The Amaranthine Kingdom is located in the Western Domains of the Ouroboros Continent. It is one of the few remaining human kingdoms that still stand today. In the current era, the Amaranthine Kingdom is filled with mages and warriors alike, making it a force to be reckoned with.
Legend has it that the founding ancestor of the Amaranthine Kingdom was one of the mages who participated in the Great Demon War 500 years ago against the world's greatest threat: the Demon God, Astaroth. With such a legacy, it is naturally a truly strong human kingdom.
The royal family of the Amaranthine Kingdom, the Amaranth Family, resides in the Royal Estate Palace, a structure of unparalleled and marvelous construction, with huge, towering walls surrounding it.
In one of the offices located in the right wing of the Royal Estate Palace, two men were having a discussion. One of them wore a luxuriously expensive royal uniform with an insignia attached to his left chest, while the other was dressed in simple clothes.
"What's the update regarding my brother's state?" the royally uniformed man asked. This was none other than Caladros' older brother, the first prince of Amaranthine, Prince Liverté Fenwynn Daelithor Amaranth.
"The Prince's condition is finally stabilizing after His Majesty the King poured a lot of healing and regeneration resources into him," the other man replied respectfully.
"Hmm," Liverté nodded, sinking into his thoughts. Someone had dared to murder the Duchess and attempted to assassinate royalty. It was truly a bold move. His blood boiled at the thought that someone had actually targeted his little brother.
After a brief silence, the first prince finally spoke again.
"Who do you think is the mastermind behind the assassination?"
The man looked surprised by the question. After a moment of contemplation, he replied, "To be honest, I have no idea right now, Your Highness. But the biggest possibility would be those conservative old fools from the noble families."
"Oh?" Prince Liverté's eyes lit up with interest. "Why do you think that?"
"Well," the man hesitated briefly, "His Majesty the King has been trying to remove and replace old laws with new ones to keep up with other kingdoms that have adopted modern strategies. So—"
"So you think that's why they would assassinate the Duchess and attempt to kill my little brother?" Liverté interrupted.
"Well, I… I don't really know," the man admitted, shaking his head bitterly. "But whoever is behind this is plotting something. It could deal a damning blow to the royal family if left unchecked."
"You are right," Liverté agreed. "So, what do you think we should do now?"
"Do nothing," the man replied without hesitation. "At times like this, observation is the best course of action, in my opinion, Your Highness."
"Indeed," Liverté replied, though his thoughts lingered. He suddenly remembered a certain someone. "Though I doubt he'll just sit quietly and observe after all that's happened."
"You mean, His Majesty?"
"That's right," Liverté replied, touching his chin thoughtfully. There was no way that old man would let bygones be bygones. After a day or so, he would surely act. His son had nearly died in an assassination attempt, so it was inevitable that he would lose his temper over this.
Liverté just hoped he wouldn't do anything reckless that might lead the royal family to ruin.
"Anyway," Liverté continued, "I want you to gather information regarding those old fools from the noble families."
"As you wish, Your Highness," the man said, bowing to the prince before leaving.
Liverté watched him go, then turned his gaze toward the window, where he could see the Amaranthine Kingdom in its entirety—or at least the royal capital.
"Old king, what are you going to do?"
---
Caladros' eyes snapped open, and the white chandelier hanging from the ceiling came into view. He looked momentarily confused before sitting up in bed, glancing around like a madman.
Then it hit him.
"This is… my room," Caladros mumbled, pulling the blanket off himself. As he stood, he squinted against the sunlight pouring into the room.
"How long has it been?"
A faint smile crossed Caladros' face as he stared out at the blue sky and the bright sun illuminating the kingdom. This was the world he knew—the world of humans. Or, more precisely, the world of magic.
"Ah!"
Caladros' ears twitched at the sudden noise. He turned to see a maid standing by the door, her expression one of shock. Her mouth hung open in a small "O," her hands covering it partially.
What was this girl's name again?
Caladros vaguely remembered that she was his personal maid, but he couldn't recall her name. Perhaps because 50 years had passed in that red world, some of his less important memories had faded.
"Y-Your Highness, you're awake already?" the young maid stammered, her voice full of concern. "Y-You should rest; you are still wounded."
"What?" Caladros asked, confused. He checked his body but found no wounds or scars. "What are you talking about? I'm not injured."
"B-But..." the maid faltered, looking equally puzzled. "You were stabbed three hours ago."
Three hours ago?
Caladros furrowed his brows. Only three hours had passed in reality? Did that mean the 50 years of suffering in that damnable realm of Astaroth had occurred in just three hours here?
His thoughts turned to Astaroth. Legend said the six Supreme Sorcerers and the Divine Hero had killed the Demon Titan, and Astaroth had been sealed. Did that mean the realm he'd spent 50 years in was the legendary sealing realm? And why was the Demon Titan still alive? Their first meeting had left him bewildered.
Caladros sighed, pushing these thoughts aside. Now was not the time to dwell on matters beyond his control.
"I guess I just have a really good regeneration ability," Caladros finally said.
Of course, it was a lie. There was no way a magicless person like him could recover from a near-fatal stab wound in just three hours. Clearly, the Demon God had accelerated his healing process.
"I-Is that so?" the maid stammered, still visibly shaken. "I-I will report this to His Majesty immediately."
With that, she scrambled out of the room, leaving Caladros shaking his head. He turned to the window again, taking in the impressive view of the royal capital.
Sitting back on his bed, Caladros thought about Astaroth's parting gift: a magical core.
Magical cores were innate objects granted by the heavens, enabling the practice of magic. Every mage in history, even the Divine Hero, possessed one. Without it, a person was just an ordinary individual incapable of performing even the simplest spells.
The magical core stored mana, with each core's capacity varying by individual. Those of immense talent had vast reservoirs, allowing them to cast powerful spells with ease, while average mages needed time to recover after using even a single spell.
Magical cores also evolved as mages grew stronger, improving their mana capacity and quality.
Closing his eyes, Caladros focused inward, searching for something within his body—a non-physical object situated in his abdomen.
After a minute of concentration, he found it: a spherical red object floating in the darkness. It was motionless, unaffected by the outside world. Its size was comparable to a wall clock. This was his mana core.
Caladros opened his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. His previously defective mana core was now functional. He could finally use magic.
Yet something still nagged at him. A voice in his mind urged him to examine his mana core more closely.
Sighing, Caladros refocused on the dark void within himself. As he observed carefully, he noticed something he had missed before: a dark sphere floating some distance from his mana core. It had blended perfectly with the darkness, making it nearly invisible.
"What the hell?" Caladros muttered, pulling his senses back. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It seems Astaroth didn't just fix my mana core. He added something as well."
As he pondered this, the door burst open, and a loud voice interrupted his thoughts.
"My Cal! Your father is here!"
Caladros froze at the sound. He didn't need to look to know who it was. The tone was unmistakable.
"Ah, shit."