Reincarnated into the strongest family

I woke in darkness, my thoughts a swirling chaos.

Where am I? Did I die?

I was still conscious, which seemed to rule out oblivion. Was this the afterlife? My memories were scattered and fragmented—I had been taking a test, but everything beyond that felt blurry, distant, like a dream slipping through my fingers.

As I strained to focus, a distant light caught my attention, piercing the black void. Compelled by its pull, I moved closer, the light growing brighter and brighter until it enveloped me entirely.

Then, suddenly, I was no longer floating in nothingness. My eyes slowly adjusted to a strange, unfamiliar room. Towering figures surrounded me, their gazes locked onto me with unnerving intensity.

A man stepped forward—tall, muscular, his presence as commanding as the storm clouds of a tempest. His black hair framed a face that seemed carved from stone, and when he spoke, his deep voice resonated in the air like thunder. "From now on, your name shall be Nox Zephyros."

Confusion struck like lightning. My mind scrambled to make sense of the situation. Everything around me seemed... enormous, distorted. Then, it clicked.

I had been reborn.

The pieces fell into place— the darkness, the towering figures, the strange new sensations. I wasn't on Earth anymore.

My gaze shifted to the woman beside me. Her long black hair cascaded like silk, and her eyes—light red, almost glowing—seemed as though they could peer straight into my soul. Red eyes? Contacts? I glanced back at the man. His eyes were a fathomless black, like staring into the depths of an abyss. There was an undeniable intensity to them that sent a shiver down my spine.

Even as I processed these revelations, a new determination settled deep within me. I had been given a second chance—a new life. This time, I vowed, I would make it count.

Days passed in a blur, and I slowly began to understand the strangeness of my new reality. One morning, my parents—these towering, intense figures who called me "Nox"—carried me to a room. The inscription on the door was in a language I could miraculously understand: Training Room.

Relief flooded me. At least I could comprehend their words. But the implications of the room's name sent a ripple of unease through me.

A young man entered, his red hair glistening like molten lava. His sharp blue eyes pierced through me with an intensity that made the room feel colder, sharper. When he approached, my body involuntarily shuddered. My parents handed me over to him without a word, and he carried me to the center of the room.

The air around us shifted. Without warning, glowing shards of ice formed in midair, swirling in an elegant, almost hypnotic dance. The cold seeped into my skin, then deeper—an energizing chill that quickly turned agonizing. It felt like my very blood had turned to ice. My infant body squirmed, desperate for relief, but it was useless.

Just as the frost became unbearable, my father's voice cut through the haze. "That's enough for today, Garret."

The young man—Garret—nodded. "Yes, Patriarch. I will return tomorrow to continue."

The ice vanished, and I gasped for air, my body trembling uncontrollably. My father's eyes lingered on me with a weight that felt like a mountain pressing down on my tiny frame. "The world is cruel," he muttered, his voice heavy. "I can only hope you grow strong enough to survive, little one."

Magic. The realization hit me with a sudden clarity. This world, this life, was not Earth. Power—magical power—was what ruled here.

Over the following days, I gleaned more about this world through my father's conversations with Garret. Mana. The very essence of magic, coursing through everything. Every human had a mana core, though it typically awakened naturally between the ages of 10 and 12. But my family had no intention of waiting. They sought to force my core's awakening by exposing me to elemental mana, hoping to speed up the process.

The process was brutal. Every element—ice, fire, wind, and beyond—tested the limits of my endurance, leaving permanent marks on my tiny body.

Another session began. This time, Garret summoned flaming orbs, their heat crackling with a searing intensity. The fire spun around us, some of it directed into me. The heat was unbearable, like molten lava coursing through my veins. It was a pain unlike anything I had felt before. My earlier trials had not prepared me for this.

Still, I endured. Minutes stretched into eternity, but I refused to cry out. I had to be strong. When my father finally called a halt, I was drenched in sweat, my breaths ragged, but I had withstood it.

Garret carried me back to my room, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.