Arcane: My Father is Silco

(The MC's age the same as Jinx.)

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[Arcane system has been connected to its host: Aegis.]

"Ha… where even am I?" Aegis muttered, his voice shaking. Colors swirled around him, like the sky and sea merging into one. His body felt strange—light and heavy at the same time.

[The host is being transported to another world known as Arcane.]

"Arcane? What is this?!" His words were sharp, filled with confusion and anger. He pressed his hands to his chest, searching for his heartbeat. There was none. Cold realization washed over him as memories flooded back, one after another, like broken glass cutting into his mind.

He remembered the study, warm with the crackling of fire, but his world had been cold—cold with betrayal of his older brother, Matthew.

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Matthew stood there, blade in hand. Aegis stared up at him, his fingers pressing against the wound in his side. Warm blood ran down, staining his shirt and the floor beneath him.

"Why, brother?" His voice cracked. His brother's face, once familiar and safe, now looked like a stranger's—hard and full of hate.

"You don't get it, do you?" Matthew sneered. "This was always meant to be mine. Father's title, the lands, the respect—it should have been me. But you, you took it all without even trying!"

Aegis shook his head. His breathing was labored, and his chest ached—not just from the wound but from the words. "You're my brother… Matthew, we are family!"

"Family?" Matthew laughed bitterly. "Don't talk to me about family! Do you know what it's like living in your shadow? Watching you, the young one take everything while I get nothing?!"

Aegis struggled to stay standing. His legs buckled, but he refused to fall. "I never wanted to take anything…" His voice was soft, weak, but the words carried his pain.

Matthew didn't answer. The blade in his hand trembled for a moment, but then he tightened his grip. "It's too late now, Aegis." His voice was cold as ice. "This is the only way."

The last thing Aegis saw was the glint of the blade before it came down.

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[Host's consciousness stabilizing… Identity creation in progress.]

"Why…" Aegis whispered, his voice breaking in the void. The betrayal replayed in his mind, each moment sharper and more painful than the last.

[Identity is ready. Because of the strong soul of the host, the host will wake up at age 11.]

Then came the laugh. It started soft, almost quiet, but it grew louder, more manic. "Hahaha… It was all a lie, wasn't it? Hahaha! My dear older brother, hahahaha" Aegis's laughter echoed through the void, filled with rage and despair.

Aegis didn't respond to the message. He didn't care. His thoughts churned with betrayal and anger, cycling endlessly through his final moments. The faces, the words, the cold steel—it wouldn't stop.

Finally Aegis lost consciousness. The last thing in his mind was the burning image of Matthew's face and his cruel words.

Then there was silence as Aegis lost conscious.

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[The Host's age is 11. Beginning Host awakening...]

Aegis's eyes fluttered open. Cold stone pressed against his back, and the damp air clung to his skin. He took a deep breath, the faint scent of oil and machinery filling his nostrils. His body felt different—lighter, smaller, weaker.

Slowly, he sat up. His hands came into view—thin, childlike, trembling slightly. He stared at them, confusion flickering in his crimson eyes. His reflection in a nearby puddle caught his attention.

A new face stared back at him. Small, sharp features framed by untamed dark hair. But it was his eyes that stood out—blood-red, glinting with sharp intensity, a haunting reminder of what he had lost and what he had become.

[Welcome to Zaun, Host.]

"Zaun…" Aegis murmured, the word foreign on his tongue. "What a strange name for a place."

He frowned, his reflection rippling in the puddle as his mind raced. "Who am I now?" he whispered to himself.

Before he could dwell on the question, a voice broke the silence.

"Aegis. Get up."

The words were deep, commanding, gravelly, but with an undercurrent of something more—a hint of care, of ownership.

"AEGIS! Are you hearing me?"

Startled, Aegis turned toward the voice. A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the dim light. The man's face was a map of scars, the left side marked by heavy disfigurement. His most striking feature was his left eye: lidless, with an orange iris and black sclera that seemed to pierce straight through Aegis.

"You've been lying there long enough, my dear son," the man said, his tone firm yet oddly warm.

Aegis blinked, his mind reeling. "Son?"

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