Aedan sat on the bed, his eyes fixed on his hands. Restless energy danced in his fingers as the weight of how many memories coursed through them. This had stopped being about survival; this was a world he had loved and then cursed for over ten years of playing it.
"Ten years," he muttered, more amused than concerned. "Ten years of playing this damned game. and now I'm living it."
For all the frustration it had caused—death flags, difficult decisions, and intricate plots—there was a perverse joy in being here, aware of what lay ahead. He had mastered this world like no other, dedicating countless hours to exploring every nook of its labyrinthine dungeons and the intrigues of its palaces.
But now, the stakes were different. No save points. No retries.
He'd already foreseen what was going to happen: the poisoning, the siege, the civil war. And amidst all that, Aedan-no, Haruto-would find his demise. Of all the timelines, of all the routes taken in any playthrough, there had never been one that allowed him to survive.
"But this time." He leaned forward, his hands clasped tighter, his eyes narrowing with determination. "This time, I'll break the story."
Every option ran through his mind. Warn the king? He'd be assassinated by the first prince's faction. Rally political allies? They would turn on him once the siege began. Escape? His carriage would crash, and he'd die. Every path ended the same.
Aedan snarled, irate. "Damn it, this world's stacked against me," he muttered. Yet beneath the frustration, an undeniable thrum of excitement simmered. It was real now.
And then, the talisman appeared.
One thing united every player who ever attempted to play as Aedan in this game: a single, firm belief-if only they could get their hands on that one item, survival would be possible. The Talisman of the Stone Heart was an artifact that allowed even the most tender form to become resilient against physical damage while providing almost endless stamina. With such an artifact, the inherent frailty of Aedan would cease to matter.
However, in-game, the only way to obtain the talisman was by defeating Marquis Raven, an ordeal that nobody had ever survived long enough to do playing Aedan.
Aedan fisted his hands. "But it isn't a game anymore. I don't need to follow the timeline."
Marquis Raven, the king's most trusted chancellor, had always been more than he seemed. In fact, he was the right-hand man of the first prince, sent by the Duke to organize the siege that had laid the palace low. It was he who, from behind the scenes, had subtly orchestrated events to ensure that the civil war would erupt and that the palace would fall.
In the story of the game, after the siege finally failed, Raven was obliged to retreat. Stumbling in this dungeon while fleeing, he found the talisman there by accident and claimed it as his own. It wasn't until after he got the talisman that Raven became a truly unstoppable foe.
Aedan's eyes moved beyond the palace walls, to the dungeon that housed what he sought. If only he could get there in time, before the siege began.
"Why follow the rules when I can write new ones?" he whispered, a dangerous smirk teasing the corners of his lips.
Mana Reflux-the rare and dangerous condition wherein the flow of mana would reverse naturally within the body. It was extremely painful and often lethal if left unattended; few had ever overcome its clutches.
Aedan understood that if anyone thought he suffered from this condition, it would provide the ideal justification for venturing into the Black Hollow Dungeon, the sole place where the only known cure could be found. Imitating its symptoms would be excruciating, yet it was the essential means to gain entry to the dungeon—and to obtain the talisman.
"This'll hurt," Aedan muttered to himself as he looked at his hands again. "But I'll survive. I have to."
Hours later, Aedan found himself kneeling on the cold stone floor of his room, his breathing steady as he focused inward. His body was already weak, yet he felt the necessity to push it further. Reversing his mana flow posed significant danger, but it would replicate the very symptoms of Mana Reflux.
He breathed deeply and started the action, forcing the mana to begin flowing backwards.
The pain hit him like a knife-eager, relentless. His veins seemed to burn with fire, and blood began oozing from his nose, his ears, and his eyes. His vision swam before him, yet he clenched his teeth, fighting to stay conscious. His body convulsed wildly as he collapsed on the floor, shaking as if with ague.
Stay awake. Just a little longer.
The door opened wide, and Siegfried hastened inside. His eyes immediately widened in shock as Aedan's bloodied figure came into view.
"Your Highness!" Siegfried's voice held a note of shock, while his stare was unblinking and hard. Behind his icy mask of duty and disappointment, something rather darker churned around.
Aedan stayed still, keeping the illusion there, as Siegfried called out for aid.
Soon enough, the door swung open once more, and the court physician staggered into the room. Darius Melverton was a man whose hands quivered and whose eyes were brimming with panic. Aedan dared to crack his eyes open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of Darius's stats panel hovering in the air.
[Name: Darius Melverton]
[Age: 51]
[Level: 17]
[Strength: F]
[Healing Magic: C]
[Diplomacy: F]
[Leadership: F]
Ambition: B [Likeability: -15]
Aedan mentally sighed. Strength F. Healing Magic C. This man was barely competent. Ambition B? That made sense-Darius had probably schemed his way into this position.
While the doctor performed his examination, the thoughts racing through the prince's mind were panicked, disjointed, and confused, trying to grasp the extent of his disease.
"Damn it. Why of all people, him? What in the world is this Mana Reflux? I've only read of Mana Reflux in books. If I am to fail to cure him, the king will have my head." The physician's hands shook while he worked. "Frail little prince. If he is to die, why drag me down with him?"
A notification appeared: [Likability with Darius Melverton has dropped by -20. Current Likability: -35.]
Aedan's eyes narrowed slightly. So, likeability was in play as well, much like the game itself. It served as a mechanism to manipulate characters into either becoming allies or enemies; however, in the game, it wouldn't be activated until later—after the siege. Now, it seemed, everything was unfolding sooner than expected.
His gaze shifted to Siegfried, who stood nearby, his arms crossed while he watched the physician work. Aedan could only just see his status window, there but faint. [Name: Siegfried Laertes] [Age: 36] [Level: 45] [Strength: S] [Magic: A] [Diplomacy: C] [Leadership: S] [Loyalty: S] [Likability: 0] "Strength S, Magic A, Leadership S? What a monster!" He had met his end in the original timeline defending the king's chamber during the siege, cutting down wave after wave of enemies until his body could no longer withstand the onslaught. "Not this time," Aedan thought resolutely. "This time, I will save him." He refused to allow a man as strong as this to perish for nothing. "I will make him mine."
Aedan sat on the bed, his eyes fixed on his hands. Restless energy danced in his fingers as the weight of how many memories coursed through them. This had stopped being about survival; this was a world he had loved and then cursed for over ten years of playing it.
"Ten years," he muttered, more amused than concerned. "Ten years of playing this damned game. and now I'm living it."
For all the frustration it had caused—death flags, difficult decisions, and intricate plots—there was a perverse joy in being here, aware of what lay ahead. He had mastered this world like no other, dedicating countless hours to exploring every nook of its labyrinthine dungeons and the intrigues of its palaces.
But now, the stakes were different. No save points. No retries.
He'd already foreseen what was going to happen: the poisoning, the siege, the civil war. And amidst all that, Aedan-no, Haruto-would find his demise. Of all the timelines, of all the routes taken in any playthrough, there had never been one that allowed him to survive.
"But this time." He leaned forward, his hands clasped tighter, his eyes narrowing with determination. "This time, I'll break the story."
Every option ran through his mind. Warn the king? He'd be assassinated by the first prince's faction. Rally political allies? They would turn on him once the siege began. Escape? His carriage would crash, and he'd die. Every path ended the same.
Aedan snarled, irate. "Damn it, this world's stacked against me," he muttered. Yet beneath the frustration, an undeniable thrum of excitement simmered. It was real now.
And then, the talisman appeared.
One thing united every player who ever attempted to play as Aedan in this game: a single, firm belief-if only they could get their hands on that one item, survival would be possible. The Talisman of the Stone Heart was an artifact that allowed even the most tender form to become resilient against physical damage while providing almost endless stamina. With such an artifact, the inherent frailty of Aedan would cease to matter.
However, in-game, the only way to obtain the talisman was by defeating Marquis Raven, an ordeal that nobody had ever survived long enough to do playing Aedan.
Aedan fisted his hands. "But it isn't a game anymore. I don't need to follow the timeline."
Marquis Raven, the king's most trusted chancellor, had always been more than he seemed. In fact, he was the right-hand man of the first prince, sent by the Duke to organize the siege that had laid the palace low. It was he who, from behind the scenes, had subtly orchestrated events to ensure that the civil war would erupt and that the palace would fall.
In the story of the game, after the siege finally failed, Raven was obliged to retreat. Stumbling in this dungeon while fleeing, he found the talisman there by accident and claimed it as his own. It wasn't until after he got the talisman that Raven became a truly unstoppable foe.
Aedan's eyes moved beyond the palace walls, to the dungeon that housed what he sought. If only he could get there in time, before the siege began.
"Why follow the rules when I can write new ones?" he whispered, a dangerous smirk teasing the corners of his lips.
Mana Reflux-the rare and dangerous condition wherein the flow of mana would reverse naturally within the body. It was extremely painful and often lethal if left unattended; few had ever overcome its clutches.
Aedan understood that if anyone thought he suffered from this condition, it would provide the ideal justification for venturing into the Black Hollow Dungeon, the sole place where the only known cure could be found. Imitating its symptoms would be excruciating, yet it was the essential means to gain entry to the dungeon—and to obtain the talisman.
"This'll hurt," Aedan muttered to himself as he looked at his hands again. "But I'll survive. I have to."
Hours later, Aedan found himself kneeling on the cold stone floor of his room, his breathing steady as he focused inward. His body was already weak, yet he felt the necessity to push it further. Reversing his mana flow posed significant danger, but it would replicate the very symptoms of Mana Reflux.
He breathed deeply and started the action, forcing the mana to begin flowing backwards.
The pain hit him like a knife-eager, relentless. His veins seemed to burn with fire, and blood began oozing from his nose, his ears, and his eyes. His vision swam before him, yet he clenched his teeth, fighting to stay conscious. His body convulsed wildly as he collapsed on the floor, shaking as if with ague.
Stay awake. Just a little longer.
The door opened wide, and Siegfried hastened inside. His eyes immediately widened in shock as Aedan's bloodied figure came into view.
"Your Highness!" Siegfried's voice held a note of shock, while his stare was unblinking and hard. Behind his icy mask of duty and disappointment, something rather darker churned around.
Aedan stayed still, keeping the illusion there, as Siegfried called out for aid.
Soon enough, the door swung open once more, and the court physician staggered into the room. Darius Melverton was a man whose hands quivered and whose eyes were brimming with panic. Aedan dared to crack his eyes open just wide enough to catch a glimpse of Darius's stats panel hovering in the air.
[Name: Darius Melverton]
[Age: 51]
[Level: 17]
[Strength: F]
[Healing Magic: C]
[Diplomacy: F]
[Leadership: F]
Ambition: B [Likeability: -15]
Aedan mentally sighed. Strength F. Healing Magic C. This man was barely competent. Ambition B? That made sense-Darius had probably schemed his way into this position.
While the doctor performed his examination, the thoughts racing through the prince's mind were panicked, disjointed, and confused, trying to grasp the extent of his disease.
"Damn it. Why of all people, him? What in the world is this Mana Reflux? I've only read of Mana Reflux in books. If I am to fail to cure him, the king will have my head." The physician's hands shook while he worked. "Frail little prince. If he is to die, why drag me down with him?"
A notification appeared: [Likability with Darius Melverton has dropped by -20. Current Likability: -35.]
Aedan's eyes narrowed slightly. So, likeability was in play as well, much like the game itself. It served as a mechanism to manipulate characters into either becoming allies or enemies; however, in the game, it wouldn't be activated until later—after the siege. Now, it seemed, everything was unfolding sooner than expected.
His gaze shifted to Siegfried, who stood nearby, his arms crossed while he watched the physician work. Aedan could only just see his status window, there but faint.
[Name: Siegfried Laertes]
[Age: 26]
[Level: 45]
[Strength: S]
[Magic: A]
[Diplomacy: C]
[Leadership: S]
[Loyalty: S]
[Likability: 0]
"Strength S, Magic A, Leadership S? What a monster!" He had met his end in the original timeline defending the king's chamber during the siege, cutting down wave after wave of enemies until his body could no longer withstand the onslaught.
"Not this time," Aedan thought resolutely. "This time, I will save him." He refused to allow a man as strong as this to perish for nothing. "I will make him mine."