"He is awake! My boy is finally awake!"

The moment the words left the healer's lips, the room filled with a mix of gasps and whispers, as if everyone was afraid that their joy would be too loud, too fragile to last. The large chamber, filled with servants, guards, and family members, seemed to hold its breath.

All eyes turned to the silk-covered bed where a young boy, barely fourteen, lay still under the fine linens. His eyes, cold and calculating, flickered open. A sharp glint of awareness darted behind them, but no one noticed. To them, he was just a child—awoken after weeks of lying unconscious.

'What a pitiful situation. Born to wealth, power, and status... but this body is frail, weak, and entirely unworthy of me,' the boy thought, his lips curling slightly. 'But no matter. This world of swords and magic will soon know what true power is.'

*Clink.*

A glass of potion was handed to the healer by a servant, who quickly brought it to the bed. "Drink, young master. This will help you regain your strength," the healer said, his voice trembling with what he hoped was encouragement. But the boy could smell it—fear. Delicious fear.

'Strength? I'll need more than that pathetic tonic if I'm to survive this world.' He glanced at the room's occupants. A large, bearded man, who was both stern and imposing, stood by the bed—the father, obviously. His clothes screamed nobility, but his expression was a mix of relief and caution. *Interesting,* the boy mused. He looked around further and noticed a few servants exchanging worried looks.

'Ah, yes. The boy's father, the patriarch of this "great family." And what's this? A sister, maybe? A brother? Does it matter?'

His thoughts were interrupted by a surge of memories from the previous life flooding his mind.

'Of course! How could I forget? I'm no longer the same person. I'm... what was his name? Valen. Right, Valen. Pathetic brat, caught up in a petty family feud, poisoned by one of his own siblings.' Valen's lips twisted into a subtle smirk.

No one noticed it, but *he* did. The real Valen was long gone. And now, in his place, was someone far more dangerous.

The family members gathered closer, unaware of the storm they had just welcomed into their midst.

"My dear boy," the father said, leaning over with what seemed like genuine concern. "You've been through a lot. Rest for now. You needn't worry about a thing. We will make sure those responsible for your condition are brought to justice."

Valen's gaze flickered, analyzing his father's face. He could see the cracks behind the words—the man's fear of losing the only heir who could solidify his power in the family. The promise of revenge was hollow. This man would do nothing, as long as his position remained safe.

'How boring. How predictable,' Valen thought, suppressing the urge to laugh. 'What if I decide to take everything myself?'

Another figure moved into the room, a tall, elegant woman with a cold demeanor. The air shifted when she entered, and Valen's smirk widened. His mother. Her beauty was matched only by her ruthlessness.

"Valen," she said softly, her tone affectionate but distant. "You are stronger than you think. I knew you would wake up." Her fingers grazed his forehead gently, but Valen could sense the weight behind her words—*survive or perish*. A mother's love, conditional on strength.

Valen looked deep into her eyes, recognizing a kindred spirit. *This woman,* he thought, *might prove useful. But only for now.*

His smile deepened, but no one paid much attention to it. "I'm stronger than you can imagine, Mother," he whispered. His voice, though weak, carried a dangerous edge that sent shivers down her spine.

"Good," she replied, ignoring the instinctual fear that crawled up her throat.

Suddenly, his body seized up as raw magical energy coursed through him. He had never felt such power before. It was like nothing in his previous life. Valen's senses exploded. He could feel it—a pulse of energy, raw and untamed, flowing in this new world. Swords? Magic? He would master it all.

'Magic? Hah! This is going to be... fun.'

But as the magical energy swirled around him, Valen's smirk returned, and his thoughts darkened.

*First, I'll destroy my enemies.* The memory of the poison slipping into his previous body's drink resurfaced. He remembered his siblings. Oh, how their eyes gleamed with greed, fighting for the patriarch's attention. Weaklings, the lot of them.

*Then, I'll break this pathetic family apart, piece by piece. Why share power when I can own it all?*

His gaze flickered to his mother again. She smiled, unaware of the viper she had just kissed on the forehead. 'Perhaps I'll leave her for last. After all, it wouldn't be fun to kill her too soon.'

Finally, the boy's eyes gleamed with mirth as he thought of the world beyond the mansion's walls.

'Magic, swords, and war... What a delightful playground.'

---

Valen chuckled softly to himself, his new family still oblivious to the fact that the young master who had awoken wasn't the same child they knew.

This was no helpless boy.

This was a demon, wearing the face of a prince.

---