First Person POV
"MY DAY HAS FINALLY COME!! I SHALL AWAKEN A POWERFUL RUNE AND BECOME A TRUE TRANSMIGRATOR!"
I roared internally, practically vibrating with excitement as I trudged along with some childhood friends through the snow-covered streets of our little medieval city.
Snowflakes drifted down lazily, dusting the ground like powdered sugar on a cake. It felt like the whole world was setting the stage for my grand rise to power. It was finally going to happen.
Now, here's a little secret: I'm actually a transmigrator from a planet called Earth. Though, funnily enough, the planet I got dropped into also happens to be called Earth.
Honestly, I'm not even sure if it's technically Earth yet—probably not until some smarter guy shows up and decides to name it. But one way or another, it will be.
The kicker? I've somehow ended up in Marvel's medieval era. No Tony Stark, no Spider-Man, nada. Just witches, clan wars, and plagues—good times.
As if that wasn't bad enough, it's right around the time the Ancient One and maybe even the Mandarin were being born, so the world's pretty much magic central.
How do I know all this? Well, let's just say I was lucky enough to get reborn as the grandson of the Rem clan in Scandinavia.
My family has some weird mystical connections, and if I remember right, we might even have ties to Kamar-Taj. Yeah, that Kamar-Taj.
I thought life was going to be a breeze! I mean, come on—born with family connections, in a time ripe with magic and untapped power! It seemed like the perfect setup for my glorious rise.
Naturally, I figured the next step would be awakening some kind of OP system or cheat ability.
Maybe I'd start gaining insane power, finding rare treasures, and obviously build a legendary harem along the way. Isn't that how it's supposed to go? All was set for my grand ascent.
That is... until I decided to talk. Yeah, I was an overachiever and started gabbing at just a month old.
ALL THOSE DAMN NOVELS TOLD ME THAT IF AN MC DOES THIS, HE'LL BE HAILED AS A PRODIGY! ADMIRED! RAISED AS THE FUTURE HEIR!
SO WHY DID THESE SAVAGES WHIP ME INSTEAD OF WORSHIPING ME?!
Even now, it makes me want to scream. I still remember the day I made my grand debut, giving my first words a shot like some mini messiah.
I thought everyone would lose their minds with pride, maybe throw a feast in my honor. Instead, they looked at me like I'd sprouted two heads.
Next thing I know, they're shouting about demons and witches, clutching their amulets like I was about to curse them on the spot.
If my grandfather hadn't been there to step in, I would've been toast—or more like, roasted—right then and there.
After that, life became a long, miserable parade of suspicion. The village called me all kinds of things—demon child, witch spawn, bad omen.
For a while, Grandpa's influence kept the torches and pitchforks at bay. But then, around the time I turned nine or ten, things went from awful to abysmal.
One day, out of nowhere, some random kid accused me of casting a spell on him. Naturally, I thought it would blow over.
I mean, Grandpa's got status; he's the local hero type with the power to keep me safe, right? But oh no. That kid and his entire family were soon found dead, clearly victims of witchcraft.
So, with one spellbound kid, my life officially took a nosedive. The entire town was convinced I'd gone full dark wizard.
My grandfather lost a huge chunk of his influence trying to protect me, and I barely managed to avoid a bonfire myself because, lucky for me, there wasn't enough evidence to nail me for it.
Still, that's how I ended up here, in this chilly place, waiting for the day when fate would finally toss me a bone...
First Person POV
But I'm pretty sure it was one of my grandfather's enemies who set up that whole witchcraft mess. No way that kid and his family ended up dead just by chance.
As my friends and I continued walking, crunching through the snow, we suddenly crossed paths with a guy who looked like he'd walked straight out of a painting.
Tall, long black hair, intense red eyes, skin pale as marble, and a face so ridiculously handsome that even the gods would be jealous.
It was Vaitas. We're third cousins—our great-grandfather was the same—and he's probably the only person I might consider trusting, given that he's a saint and all.
Complete opposite of me, though. He's got this cool name—Vaitas, like he was born to be a legend—and here I am, stuck with Fen. Fen.
Who came up with that? Sounds like someone misheard "Finn" and decided to roll with it.
Add to that, he's got the whole "natural genius" thing going for him, a face that people swoon over, and a family with enough clout to make life easy. Meanwhile, I'm just trying not to get burned at the stake.
Third Person POV
"Good morning, Lord Vaitas," Fen and his friends greeted as soon as they saw him. Vaitas nodded back, his perfect smile flashing like it was carved by a divine hand.
"Good morning, cousins," Vaitas replied, with a smile so flawless it could have been mistaken for a god's. Of course, everyone knew better—behind that angelic grin lay a devil in disguise.
Or, perhaps, a demon god.
"Vaitas, are you going for the awakening ceremony too?" Fen asked, stepping up beside him. Astrid, one of Fen's friends, shot him a deadly side-eye, practically radiating murderous intent.
First off, Astrid had always been suspicious of Fen's grandfather, thanks to none other than Vaitas's own manipulation. She couldn't stand Fen or his family. And second...
How dare a so-called cursed child like him stand so close to Vaitas?
Little did Fen know, nearly every scrap of misery he'd suffered was Vaitas's doing.
This guy had even gone so far as to blackmail a little kid into accusing Fen of witchcraft. And when the kid's whole family turned up dead?
Yep—that was Vaitas too, using techniques he'd picked up from a library book that screamed "DO NOT PRACTICE." Yeah, like that's ever stopped anyone.
And, naturally, that little stunt of his shaved off another chunk of Fen's grandfather's influence. Classic Vaitas move.
To understand Vaitas's mindset, you have to realize that he does nothing without some benefit.
He could be the most benevolent saint if it would win him favor, and he'd play the role of the devil himself if it meant even a slight advantage.
Sure, his actions might seem reckless or downright wicked, but they're all carefully calculated. When others are signing up for a marathon, he's already planning to own the stadium.
By the time they realize they're in a race, he's seated on Mount Olympus, ruling over everyone.
Oh, and by the way, while he's been the mastermind behind all of Fen's suffering, he's managed to pull it off while playing the part of Fen's savior and supposed saintly friend.
"Let's go together, then!" Fen said brightly, putting a hand on Vaitas's shoulder. His friends looked a bit stunned, and Astrid? She was practically vibrating with the urge to stab this "witchcraft bastard" on the spot.
"Sure, brother," Vaitas replied smoothly, flashing one last smile before his face settled back into its usual cool, composed expression. Together, they headed toward the Temple of Odin for the awakening ceremony.
And maybe—just maybe—a little massacre. 🥺👉👈
**{A/N: Alright, folks, I know I've been MIA for a whole week, but trust me—I had a really good reason...
I was on a quest for a 10/10, and let's just say I'm this close to succeeding.
Then, like 30 minutes ago, I remembered my loyal readers here and whipped up this chapter in about 10 minutes—while chatting with baddies, no less. Multitasking at its finest.
Bro code > everything, right?
And can someone tell me why I'm like this? I could be cranking out 10 chapters a day, easy, but somehow the moment I sit down to write... bam, lazy mode activated. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!}**