Re Extra' Legendary Proclamation Of Tyberius The Bastard

'Of course the trash game would turn out to be a fucking one-way ticket to isekai.' He lamented, exasperated beyond belief.

How long had it been now? Two days? Three? Since his abrupt arrival into what he thought would be a game only to awaken as an infant.

'Next time, note to self: if a game is called Reincarnated Online, don't fucking play it.'

At first, he believed it was some elaborate prank. Maybe a bugged launch sequence or an over-immersive VR tutorial. But no matter how hard he tried, the status screen wouldn't appear. The logout button? Nonexistent. Eventually, after several silent screams and fruitless efforts, the grim reality settled in.

He was stuck here. Actually transmigrated. Reborn. As a baby.

'Alright, fine. If I'm going to be in this world, at least let it be a good home.'

Imagine being hurled into another world only to end up in some war-torn hellhole, with starvation and death waiting at the doorstep. Thankfully, that didn't seem to be the case.

From what he could gather, his environment was... comfortable. The walls were solid, possibly stone with polished wood trimmings. The furniture looked hand-carved and well-maintained, an obvious sign that money had gone into the place.

And based on the setting, the medieval vibe was unmistakable. This was definitely some kind of nobleman's manor, probably European-inspired.

As for his role in this strange world? He was still piecing that together.

Just then, the door clicked open without warning.

'She's here.' He thought, quickly shutting his eyes and feigning sleep.

"Young Lord, I am back," a voice said softly, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps approaching.

"Sleeping again, as always," she murmured with a gentle laugh, lifting him from the crib.

'Don't you know you're not supposed to wake a sleeping baby?' he grumbled internally. 'No, of course you don't. Because you're a walking ball of idiocy, Greta.'

"Come now, Young Lord, you need to wake up and eat. We wouldn't want you getting scrawny, now would we?"

The girl, Greta, wore a plain maid's uniform in shades of blue and white. With practised care, she carried the infant Ty over to the bed and placed him down gently.

And then, to his horror, she began her daily ritual.

'No. Not again. Please, Greta, just this once, show some restraint.' He knew what was coming, and no matter how many times it happened, it didn't get easier.

Greta sat on the bed, cradling him on her lap. Then, with absolutely no hesitation, she unfastened the upper part of her uniform, exposing one of her ample breasts and with terrifying swiftness, shoved a nipple into his mouth.

'My decency... my poor decency... how far you've fallen.' He wanted to cry, but even tears wouldn't come.

Who would have thought he'd be drinking breast milk not for enjoyment, but out of sheer necessity? The infant's body was a curse.

---

This new world had been... surprisingly dull. Or restful, depending on how one looked at it. He did nothing but sleep, wake, eat, and think.

'I really need to start figuring this world out.'

But what was the rush?

Right now, he was a helpless infant, no tools, no autonomy, and no means of gathering information. His only source of knowledge came through the chatter of Greta, especially when she got angry. For some reason, she liked to ramble when she was pissed... even while feeding him.

Thanks to one of her more passionate rants, he'd finally learned who he was.

His name: Tyberius Arkwell or Ty, for short. The fourth son of Lord Gaius Arkwell, current head of the Arkwell Household.

The twist? He was a bastard. The product of a fleeting affair between Lord Gaius and a nameless servant. His mother had likely been cast aside, and Ty had been hidden away in a far-off wing of the estate, forgotten and unwanted.

And Greta? She'd been assigned to care for the unwanted bastard child. A punishment, it seemed, considering the ridicule she endured from the other maids.

'Despite the mockery, she's not taking it out on me...' Ty mused.

In fact, she went above and beyond. She cleaned him regularly, fed him on time, played with him even when he didn't want her to and told him bedtime stories.

It never felt like an obligation. If anything, it was the only warmth he'd known so far.

'I should probably treat her better.' he decided. 'Maybe stop crying like a banshee every time bath time rolls around...'

Still, the reality of being a bastard stung.

'A bastard, huh?'

That revelation made him reflect on the life he'd left behind.

Back then, he was... nobody special. No one worth remembering. An average gamer with average grades. His parents had died early, leaving behind enough insurance money to keep him afloat. He dropped out of school, tired of the constant bullying that came with being an orphan. Eventually, he shut himself away and dove headfirst into the world of online games.

And now? That very hobby had apparently sent him to his doom.

'One thing I know about bastards is... they always come last. Ignored unless they turn out better than the legitimate kids.'

With what little he knew about medieval societies, Ty started to ponder his fate.

Two paths seemed possible.

One: He fades into the background, a forgotten side character, much like his previous life. Honestly, that sounded fine as long as he stayed alive and well.

The other path? Well... that required something close to a miracle. For him to rise above his status, he'd need to be exceptional. A genius. A prodigy.

But what talent could he possibly have?

Gaming.

That was it. His one and only claim to competence.

'Unless this world has mechanics like a game... I don't see myself doing anything noteworthy anytime soon.'

And right now? He had no clue if this was a magical fantasy world, a game-based system, or something else entirely. No HUD, no quests, no indicators of anything remotely "game-like."

All he could do... was wait.

And survive.