Chapter 1: From Death to Rebirth — The Tale of Sakamoto Begins


    If you asked me what hitting rock bottom looked like, I wouldn’t even flinch.


    It’s waking up at 2 p.m. with no job, no girl, a half-empty beer bottle in your hand, and waifugami still open on your second monitor.


    It’s standing shirtless in your kitchen at 3 a.m., eating cereal with beer instead of milk because you ran out and can’t be bothered to walk to the corner store.


    It’s laughing with your boys about how “life is a joke,” then staring at your ceiling later that night wondering if it even matters anymore.


    My name was Vaknin. Nineteen. Drunk. Broken. Done.


    That night, I decided I was tired of pretending things were okay.


    I turned off the lights, grabbed my phone to put on one last melancholic anime OST — “Ichiban no Takaramono,” of course — and opened my browser.


    Not to write a goodbye letter.


    Not to message anyone.


    No.


    To delete my search history.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    “Let me go with some honor…” I whispered to no one.


    But fate had other plans.


    Before I could even click "Clear All," I heard tires screeching.


    A flash of light.


    A blast of sound.


    Truck.


    Classic.


    ---


    I expected hell. Or nothing. Or maybe that old guy with the white beard every other isekai MC talks to.


    Instead… I woke up to light.


    Warm, golden light. The smell of straw. The distant sound of birds chirping in a way I’d only heard in fantasy RPGs.


    I tried to move — and realized my arms were tiny. My legs were soft. My voice—


    > “GAHHHH—GA—GAAAH?!”


    ...I was a damn baby.


    Not just any baby, apparently. A baby chosen by fate.


    A tall, muscular man with a huge sword strapped to his back entered the straw hut and stood over me. His brown eyes softened.


    > “He’s awake… Our boy is awake!”


    Beside him stood a stunning woman — long silver hair, pointed ears, and glowing golden eyes. An elf? No. Something divine. A hybrid?


    She leaned down and brushed my forehead.


    > “He has your strength,” she whispered to the man. “And my eyes.”


    > “His name…” the man said proudly, “will be Sakamoto.”


    Sakamoto?


    ...Well damn. That actually sounds sick.


    Better than Vaknin, honestly.


    ---


    And just like that — I, a loser who couldn’t even manage to delete his browser history before dying — was reincarnated into a world of swords, elves, and destiny.


    A world where cows had six legs.


    Where children trained with blades by age six.


    Where gyats were bountiful and waifus walked with magic in their veins.


    A world called Lucala.


    And me?


    I was now Sakamoto — son of warriors, born into legend.


    A second chance.


    A new life.


    A wild, lewd, dangerous, emotional, chaotic, unforgettable journey…


    ...was just beginning.