A man knelt on blood-soaked stone, his once-proud armor shattered, stained crimson from countless wounds. The night sky above loomed empty, devoid of stars, as if the heavens themselves had turned away from him. His sword, broken in two, lay beside him—a perfect metaphor for the fate that had befallen him.
Before him stood Reinhardt Valcrest, his stepbrother—the man he had fought beside, bled beside, trusted more than anyone. And now, the man who held a sword to his throat.
"You should have known," Reinhardt said, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "A knight who clings to honor is nothing but a fool waiting to be used. You fought for the kingdom, for our family, but in the end… you were always just a pawn."
His fiancée, Elara, stood beside Reinhardt, her once-gentle eyes now filled with cold satisfaction.
"You were never strong enough," she whispered, stepping closer. "Not to rule, not to protect, not even to keep me."
The soldiers of the Valcrest Kingdom—his former comrades—watched in silence, their gazes empty. His father, Duke Alden Valcrest, stood above them all, his expression unreadable.
"From this day forward," the Duke declared, "you are no son of mine."
A sharp pain tore through his chest. Reinhardt's blade had already pierced his heart.
As he fell, his vision blurred, but the betrayal burned deeper than any wound. The world darkened around him, cold and empty—until even pain was swallowed by the abyss.
Death should have been the end. But the abyss had other plans.
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Rebirth in the Shadows
The first thing he felt was power.
It surged through his body like liquid shadow, cold yet exhilarating. His senses sharpened beyond human limits, his thoughts moving with unnatural clarity.
He opened his eyes—no longer the deep blue of his past self, but a piercing, silver-gray that gleamed with eerie brilliance. He could feel it coursing through his veins. Darkness. A power unlike anything he had wielded before.
Memories flooded his mind. He was no longer the discarded son of Valcrest. He was now Riven Vade, second prince of the Vade Empire—the kingdom that his past self had been sworn to destroy.
The irony of it was almost laughable.
He sat up in a grand, obsidian-walled chamber, his body that of a boy no older than twelve. But even in this young form, the power of the Vade bloodline was undeniable.
A knock echoed through the chamber door.
"Your Highness," a voice called. "The Emperor requests your presence in the throne room."
Riven exhaled, the coldness within him settling. His past self had died—a knight bound by chivalry, loyalty, and honor. That foolish man was gone.
Now, he was Riven Vade, prince of the empire that wielded the abyss itself.
And he would have his vengeance.