Leny awoke with a start, his body shivering uncontrollably in the icy chill. He lay on a patch of frozen ground, surrounded by a barren landscape that seemed to stretch into nothingness. The sky was a dreary gray, and snowflakes swirled around him, biting into his skin like tiny daggers. He tried to sit up, but his body felt weak and frail, as if he hadn't eaten in days.
"What the hell…?" Leny muttered, his voice a thin rasp. He blinked against the cold, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. He could see his breath in the air, a misty puff that quickly dissipated. He felt a strange sensation as he lifted his hand to his face—his fingers brushed against soft, golden hair. Startled, he looked down and saw the reflection in a nearby patch of ice: a young boy, no older than sixteen, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes stared back at him.
"Oh, for crying out loud," he groaned. "Who the fuck's body is this now?" A sharp pain stabbed through his head as a flood of unfamiliar memories began to assault him. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to make sense of the chaotic torrent. He remembered his last moments—the Demon Lord's blade plunging into his chest, the sharp agony, the darkness swallowing him whole. "Wasn't I just killed by that bastard?" he thought, his mind reeling. "Don't tell me I've transmigrated again..."
The name came to him suddenly—Martin. That was the name of the boy whose body he now inhabited. And with that name came a rush of details: this was a medieval world, far removed from the lands of his past life. A backwater country, isolated and impoverished. And Martin—a prince, but not of anything significant. A prince of nothing, in a kingdom that was equally worthless. "Just my luck," Leny muttered under his breath, a crooked smile forming on his lips. "A prince without a throne. How quaint."
But then, as he sifted through Martin's memories, something caught his attention. A spark of curiosity ignited in his mind. This world had no magic users, not like the ones he had known. Yet the mana was everywhere, thick and heavy in the air, more abundant than in any realm he had ever visited. Leny mused, his grin widening. "A world overflowing with mana but no one to wield it?"
He dove deeper into the boy's memories, uncovering tales of ancient wizards, long since faded into legend. Stories told to children before bed, dismissed as mere fantasies. But Leny knew better. He could sense the remnants of true power hidden beneath the layers of myth. "Wizards, huh?" he murmured, his eyes glinting with excitement. "So there were magic users here once."
The current rulers of this world, the knights, relied on something different—an internal force that granted them enhanced strength and abilities. Leny smirked as he learned of their three ranks: Novices, bumbling around with their newfound senses; Adepts, who could barely channel the force into a decent punch; and Masters, who strutted around with their self-importance, unaware of how limited their power truly was. "Pathetic," Leny thought, chuckling. "They have no idea what real power looks like."
Realizing he needed to bolster his strength, Leny dropped to his knees in the snow and began to meditate. He focused on his breathing, slowing it down, trying to block out the numbing cold. He reached deep within himself, seeking out the faint remnants of mana in the air around him. Slowly, he began to draw the mana into his body, feeling it spread through his limbs like a trickle of warmth. Gradually, the warmth intensified, pushing back the freezing chill and revitalizing his body.
As the mana flowed into his heart, Leny felt it coalesce into a small, stable circle, pulsing with energy. A surge of warmth coursed through him, driving the cold from his bones and filling him with a newfound strength. He stood, feeling the faint but steady rhythm of mana within him.
With a renewed sense of purpose, he set off to find food. The barren landscape offered little, but he was determined. As he moved through the snow-covered woods, he heard a low growl that stopped him in his tracks. Three wolves emerged from the underbrush, their eyes locked onto him with a predatory hunger. They were lean and feral, their fur bristling as they approached.
Leny chuckled softly, he reached out with his senses, feeling the mana in the air around him and channeling it into his limbs. The wolves lunged, and Leny sprang into action.
With a swift motion, he unleashed a burst of energy into the ground beneath them. The earth erupted, sending a spray of dirt and debris into the air, blinding the wolves momentarily. Wasting no time, he drew the mana into his hands and thrust it into the ground. A sharp spike of earth shot up beneath the nearest wolf, impaling it through the chest. It yelped in pain and collapsed, lifeless.
The remaining wolves snarled and hesitated, but Leny was already moving. He directed his energy again, conjuring a sharp rock like an arrow that speared upward, striking a second wolf in the throat. It collapsed with a gurgling whine, blood pooling in the snow.
The last wolf, sensing danger, tried to back away, but Leny wasn't about to let it escape. With a final surge of his mana, he sent a barrage of sharp stones flying at the creature, tearing into its flesh and bringing it down with a final, pitiful cry.
Leny stood there, breathing heavily, his heart racing with exhilaration. The warmth of the mana circle in his heart pulsed with every beat, filling him with a sense of triumph. He said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Not bad for a prince of nothing"
He glanced down at the dead wolves, his grin widening. "Guess I found dinner after all," he chuckled. With a flick of his wrist, he used a bit more mana to drag the bodies closer. "Now, let's see what else this world has to offer."
Lenny continued on his way, ready to turn this world into his playground.