Chapter 1: Awakening in a Prince's body
Lytham gasped for breath, his chest heaving as he bolted upright. The last thing he remembered was the sharp, deafening crack of gunfire. A thousand echoes of the firing squad's rifles still rang in his ears, and the bitter taste of iron lingered on his tongue. His heart raced as he instinctively touched his chest, searching for the bullet wounds he knew should be there.
Nothing.
His fingers brushed smooth skin beneath an unfamiliar silk robe. He blinked, his surroundings swimming into focus. The room was grand, far too luxurious for someone like him—golden tapestries adorned the walls, an intricately carved wooden wardrobe stood in one corner, and sunlight streamed in through tall, arched windows.
"What the hell...?" he muttered, his voice raspier than he remembered.
Then the memories hit him like a tidal wave. He was supposed to be dead. He had been dead. Executed for his crimes. His life as a killer, a harbinger of misery, was over. Or so he thought.
A sudden chime echoed in the room. He froze as a translucent screen materialized before his eyes, floating in midair.
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[QUARTET SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
<
**Identity: Third son of King Chaden
**Magic Affinity: Rank D
**Current Location: Ziad Royal Palace
---
The words on the screen burned into his mind, each one feeling heavier than the last. Prince Vin? King Chaden? Ziad? None of it made sense.
Another notification appeared:
---
<
"Transmigrated?" Lytham whispered. His hands trembled as he reached out, trying to touch the floating text. His fingers passed through the glowing letters.
The screen shifted, displaying more information:
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***Prince Vin, your current tasks are as follows:
1. Familiarize yourself with the Ziad Kingdom.***
2. Develop your magical abilities.***
3. Ensure the survival of Ziad Village.***
---
Survival. Lytham—or Vin, as the system called him—felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He glanced around the room again, this time noticing a tall mirror standing near the wardrobe. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his body feeling lighter and more agile than he remembered.
When he looked into the mirror, a stranger stared back.
The man was younger—barely in his twenties—with sharp features, piercing green eyes, and a mane of dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He was taller, leaner, and his reflection exuded a quiet power he didn't yet understand.
"This can't be real," he murmured, but the reflection's lips moved with his own.
The door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, the king requests your presence in the throne room."
Vin's breath caught. The King? His father? The words felt alien, yet his pulse quickened with anticipation. Without another word, he nodded and followed the servant out of the room.
---
The hallways of the palace were as grand as his chambers, lined with red carpets and walls adorned with paintings of kings long past. Vin's mind raced with questions. What kind of world is this? Who is King Chaden? And why me?
When they reached the throne room, the massive double doors swung open, revealing a grand hall filled with nobles. At the far end sat King Chaden, a man who radiated authority. His silver crown gleamed atop dark hair streaked with gray, and his piercing gaze locked onto Vin as he approached.
"Vin," the king said, his deep voice echoing through the hall. "You've finally decided to leave your chambers." Pronce Vin had been locked in his room for seven years after he failed to protect his mother, so when he died no one noticed that or even noticed Lytham.
Vin bowed instinctively, though he felt out of place. "Your Majesty," he replied, the words foreign on his tongue.
The king studied him, his expression unreadable. "You have much to learn, my son. But first, we must address the issues in Ziad Village. The villagers grow restless, and as a mage of the royal bloodline, it is your duty to protect them."
Vin's chest tightened. Protect them? He had spent his previous life destroying families, not saving them. Yet, as the nobles murmured and the king's gaze bore into him, he realized he had no choice.
---
Vin followed the servant through the winding corridors of the palace, his thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and determination. Meeting King Chaden had solidified one thing in his mind: this wasn't a dream. He was no longer Lytham, the ruthless killer whose life ended in a blaze of gunfire. He was Prince Vin, the third son of a king, in a world filled with magic.
But what did that mean? A prince with no knowledge of this world. A mage ranked so low that even the system's words stung. He clenched his fists. This life had potential—potential to be better than the last.
"Your Highness," the servant's voice broke through his thoughts. "We've arrived. Prince Syia awaits you in the west courtyard."
Vin nodded and stepped forward, the weight of his unfamiliar royal robes tugging at him with each step.
---
The courtyard was a marvel. The midday sun bathed the area in golden light, reflecting off the cascading fountains. Flowers of every imaginable color framed the walkways, their sweet aroma mixing with the scent of freshly cut grass. Noble children, dressed in fine silks, laughed and played near the fountains, their carefree lives a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within Vin.
In the center of the courtyard stood a man who could only be Prince Syia. His bearing was regal, his posture exuding confidence and power. The embroidery on his robes shimmered with hues of blue, and as Vin approached, Syia turned, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to evaluate him in a single glance.
"So," Syia began, his voice smooth but laced with arrogance, "the infamous younger brother finally steps out into the light."
Vin felt a spark of irritation at the condescension in his tone. "You must be Syia," he replied, keeping his voice neutral.
Syia chuckled. "And you must be Vin. The reclusive prince, hidden away like a forgotten relic. I was beginning to think Father had fabricated your existence to keep us entertained."
Vin's jaw tightened. "I've been... adjusting."
"Adjusting," Syia repeated, his smirk widening. "That's one way to put it."
The tension between them was palpable, though Vin felt no fear. Instead, a strange sense of competitiveness stirred within him, a need to prove that he wasn't the weakling Syia clearly believed him to be.
---
"Tell me, Vin," Syia said, taking a few steps closer. "Do you know what it means to be a mage of the royal family?"
Vin hesitated. "I'm... learning."
Syia laughed, the sound echoing through the courtyard. "Learning, he says. Well, let me give you a demonstration."
He extended his hand toward the fountain beside them. The water rippled unnaturally before rising into the air in a swirling vortex. The liquid shimmered in the sunlight, forming intricate shapes as it obeyed Syia's will.
"I am a water creator," Syia said, his tone dripping with pride. "The element bends to my command."
With a flick of his wrist, the water froze, transforming into a spear of glistening ice. Syia hurled the spear with practiced precision, and it struck a nearby tree, the impact splintering the wood.
Vin's eyes widened, both in awe and unease.
"And you?" Syia asked, turning to face him. "What do you command? Or have you yet to discover your affinity?"
Vin's silence was all the confirmation Syia needed. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Typical. You can't even feel it, can you? The power lying dormant within you. How embarrassing."
Vin's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. "I'll find it," he said, his voice low but firm.
Syia raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the determination in Vin's tone. "We'll see," he said simply. "Though I wouldn't expect much. D-rank mages rarely achieve greatness."
With that, Syia turned and strode away, his confidence radiating with every step.
---
Alone in the courtyard, Vin's anger simmered beneath the surface. Syia's words echoed in his mind, each one stinging more than the last.
"D-rank mages rarely achieve greatness."
He wouldn't let that define him. He couldn't.
Determined to uncover his potential, Vin found a quiet corner of the courtyard. The laughter of the noble children faded into the background as he closed his eyes and focused inward. He didn't know what he was searching for, but he knew it was there.
At first, there was nothing—just silence and the faint rustle of the wind. Then, gradually, he felt it: a faint hum, like the distant vibration of a drum. It resonated deep within him, steady and unyielding.
That must be it, he thought. The magic.
He concentrated harder, willing the energy to rise to the surface. His breathing quickened as the hum grew louder, more insistent.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him began to tremble. His eyes snapped open, and he stumbled back as small cracks appeared in the stone tiles at his feet.
"What...?" he whispered, staring at the shifting earth.
The vibrations intensified, and with a sharp burst of energy, a pillar of stone erupted from the ground. Vin staggered, his heart pounding as he took in the sight.
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[QUARTET SYSTEM ALERT]
Congratulations, Prince Vin. You have unlocked your magic affinity: Earth Creation.
---
Vin's chest swelled with a mix of pride and relief. Earth creation. He wasn't powerless.
Testing his newfound ability, he placed a hand on the ground, willing the earth to move. The pillar shifted, crumbling into smaller rocks that hovered in the air before falling back to the ground.
He smiled for the first time since arriving in this world. He might be D-rank, but he had potential. And that was enough for now.