Reincarnated as The Greatest Scientist in Another World

The wet, muddy ground bit into Ain's knees. Dozens of Null huddled together, backs bent low under the harsh sun slipping toward dusk. Before them, a towering stone gate loomed—iron bars, weathered bricks, and guards clad in light steel armor and spotless white cloaks. Their wands glowed cold blue, humming with restrained menace.

Ain, still frail in his ragged clothes, stood at the back of the line. His knees wobbled in the evening breeze. Beside him, his mother gripped his arm so tight her knuckles whitened, as if terrified he might fling himself at the iron fence that sliced their world apart.

The Null knelt lower, foreheads nearly pressed into the muck when one guard stepped forward. From his belt, he tugged out a rough burlap sack stuffed with pale, rock-hard loaves. The edges bloomed green with mold.

He sneered down at them like they were vermin. His voice cracked through the still air.

"Here's your share, Null scum! Take it—if you still want to crawl another day!"

He hurled a loaf into the mud. It splashed into a puddle of stagnant water, filth spraying across a boy's sunken face. Chaos broke loose. The Null surged forward, elbowing, clawing. A frail old man collapsed beneath trampling feet. A mother screamed, dragging her child away before he vanished under the frenzy.

Ain froze, rage clawing up his throat. His chest heaved, eyes burning at the sight—humans degraded to animals, scrabbling for rotten scraps.

His fists balled tight. He stepped forward, breath sharp as he opened his mouth to shout—

But his mother's fingers dug deeper into his arm. She shook her head, tears brimming, her whisper so faint he could barely catch it.

"Don't, Ain... don't. We're Null. They'll kill you for less."

Ain held the fire in his lungs. His fists trembled, then loosened. The fury sank deeper than any blade. His teeth ground together, but he swallowed the roar.

Behind the fence, the guards chuckled. One slammed his boot into a crawling man's ribs, kicking him face-first into the muck. Their laughter bounced off the high walls—echoes that battered whatever pride the Null still clung to.

---

By sunset, the Null shuffled back through the filthy lanes, clutching scraps of moldy bread in scraps of cloth. Children whimpered in their mothers' arms. Some cursed under their breath for not fighting harder.

In his family's ramshackle hut, Ain sat cross-legged on a frayed reed mat. In front of him, a lump of green-flecked bread sat on a cracked wooden plate. He stared at it like it was poison.

Across from him, his mother wrung her hands raw, unable to meet the smoldering fury in his eyes.

"Why, Mother?" His voice came out raw and tight. "Why do we live like this? Why do they eat fresh bread and we fight for mold? Why do they sit on golden thrones while Null children starve in the dirt?"

His mother stayed silent. Her eyes shone with tears. Slowly, she reached out, her hand trembling as it rested on his shoulder—a weight heavier than any chain.

"Because we have nothing, my son. Here... magic is everything. Without it, we are nothing. Null are born to serve, to scrub their floors, to die and be forgotten."

Ain lowered his head. A vision flashed—metal walls, a reactor's core cracking open, fire brighter than any spell. He remembered who he was—Rian Rahman, the man who forged a sun in the depths of Earth. There, he'd held the power to remake the world. Here, he couldn't protect a single piece of bread.

He picked up the rotten loaf. Bit down. Mold scraped his throat raw. He forced himself to chew—forced himself to swallow every crumb of filth, every crumb of humiliation.

---

Days bled into one another. Ain drifted through the village's muddy veins, his bare feet wading through sour puddles. He drank in every hollow face behind splintered doors—children wasted to skin and bone, mothers empty-handed as the rationed well ran dry.

One evening, under a skeletal tree at the village's edge, he met Nasuha. A Null girl like him—barely grown, shoulder-length black hair tangled but her eyes wide, her smile a flicker of warmth in the gloom.

He was foraging twigs for the fire when she appeared, dragging a battered sack stuffed with wild leaves and bitter roots.

"You're Ain, right?" she called out, her voice oddly bright despite the weight in her eyes.

Ain only nodded, awkward and guarded.

"I'm Nasuha." She stuck out her hand, then laughed when he just stared at it. "Relax. All you Null boys are stubborn mules. I'm the biggest troublemaker around here, so don't look down on me."

They sat under the dead branches, sorting leaves by moonlight. She spun tiny dreams aloud—dreams so fragile they almost hurt to hear.

"If I ever get magic, Ain... I'd build a big house behind that damn wall. Every Null kid would live there. Fresh bread every morning. Warm baths every night. No guards shouting at us like dogs."

Ain listened in silence. But in the swamp of his shame, her soft words kindled a spark.

---

But that spark was crushed the same night. Screams tore through the narrow alleys. Torchlight slashed across the broken huts as royal guards crashed through door after door.

Ain tore outside, chest pounding. He found them at Nasuha's shack—two guards dragging her away while her mother clawed at their boots, sobbing.

"Let her go!" Ain yelled, lunging for Nasuha's hand.

A club smashed his cheek. Cold mud swallowed him as the world spun. He heard her sobs vanish into armored boots and torchlit darkness.

---

By dawn, Ain waited by the gate, one eye swollen shut, dried blood crusted on his face. He watched the path where the Null returned, hoping, praying—

And there she was. Nasuha. Her hair matted, her eyes hollow.

She carried a sack—fresh bread spilling from its mouth, more food than any Null had seen in months. Around her, other girls limped along, their shoulders caved inward, shame clinging to their thin frames.

Ain stepped forward, gripped her shoulders, searched her eyes. "I'm sorry... I couldn't stop them..."

Nasuha forced a brittle smile, tears blurring her lashes. "I'm dirty now. They used me up," she whispered, her voice broken to pieces.

Ain pulled her into his arms. His voice trembled as he breathed into her hair.

"Don't worry, Suha. I swear to you—one day, I'll burn every wall, repay every bruise, every tear."

Behind them, hungry hands snatched at the bread, tearing it from the girls' arms. No one cared what price had been paid—empty bellies drowned every last scrap of pride.

But in the mud, with Nasuha's warmth pressed to his chest, Ain's vow hardened like steel:

This revolution would not die in a hole.

It would blaze hot enough to swallow magic itself whole.