I stared at the name Zotherg on the prompt, my curiosity tempered by hesitation. The question marks beside its level were an undeniable warning—it was far beyond my current ability to comprehend. I could only assume this indicated Zotherg’s power was off the charts, so high that my system couldn’t quantify it without significant leveling on my part.


    Still, my chosen trait promised that elementals would only help me, not harm me. That assurance was the only thing bolstering my courage as I steadied my resolve and activated [Soul Speak].


    The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced before. It felt as though my very being flickered in and out, like an LED flashlight blinking rapidly. My soul vibrated, pulsing in waves that acted like a signal reaching out to Zotherg.


    At first, the communication was abstract—emotions flickered back and forth between us, faint but unmistakable. Zotherg’s joy at being contacted was warm and overwhelming, almost paternal. I hadn’t realized until that moment how excruciatingly isolated I’d felt since my rebirth.


    I was trapped, not just in a newborn’s body but in its many limitations. The humiliation of being utterly helpless, unable to care for myself, had gnawed at me. Perfect memory didn’t help, either—it preserved every indignity. I still winced at the thought of pooping myself multiple times a day, cleaned like an inanimate doll by hands not my own.


    And then there was the breastfeeding.


    I had resisted at first, my pride rebelling against the thought, but hunger was an unrelenting enemy. Eventually, I gave in. Even then, I closed my eyes during those moments, trying not to dwell on the awkwardness of it all.


    Yet, as mortifying as those moments were, not everything about this life was bad.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    In my past life, I had never known my mother. She had died in a car accident shortly after I was born, a tragedy I had pieced together from police reports and scraps of family stories. Driving home after a snowstorm, her car had hit black ice, skidding out of control and crashing into a tree. The engine had burst into the cab, and she died instantly.


    But in this life, I did have a mother.


    Sienna Knollen was her name, and her love for me was like nothing I had ever known. She was fiercely protective, doting on me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. It was a feeling I hadn’t realized I missed until I experienced it.


    Her overprotectiveness, however, sometimes bordered on the absurd. She refused to let my father, Ileor Knollen, parade me around the village, much to his dismay. It was sweet in its own way, though occasionally annoying.


    As time passed, my [Soul Speak] skill leveled up. By the time it reached Level 3, the emotional exchanges evolved into actual thoughts and words. We could even share images, painting vivid pictures in each other’s minds.


    When Zotherg’s voice finally came through, it startled me. It was deep and rich, full of warmth and mirth, like what I imagined Santa Claus would sound like if he were real.


    “HA HA! Congratulations, young lord!” Zotherg bellowed, his laughter like the rumble of distant thunder.


    I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Um, thanks, Zotherg. It’s nice to finally speak with you.” My response came out more familiar than I had expected, as though we had known each other for years. Perhaps the emotional exchanges before had created a sense of camaraderie.


    “Well, I wondered how long it would take you to discover me,” Zotherg said, his tone still jovial. “But I never imagined it would be so soon!”


    “What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.


    “It’s understandable that you wouldn’t know this yet,” Zotherg replied, his voice growing lighter with amusement. “But I’m an earth elemental, and you’re standing—well, lying—on top of me.”


    His words caught me off guard. I glanced around, half-expecting to see a tiny figure made of dirt or stone peeking out from the floor.


    Zotherg’s laughter boomed again, and I could feel his amusement ripple through our connection. “To be more precise,” he continued, “you’re camping in a forest on a mountain. That mountain is called Mt. Zotherg, and that’s me. Nice to meet ya!”