Chapter 1: A Cruel Betrayal and a New BeginningEthan Fang had everything a man could desire—wealth, influence, and a life of comfort. He was a young entrepreneur who had built his empire from the ground up, a rare feat for someone in his early twenties. With jet-black hair, deep blue eyes, and an air of quiet confidence, he commanded respect wherever he went. Despite his fortune, he was a kind-hearted man, generous to those around him. His employees adored him, and his friends admired him.

But not everyone celebrated his success.

His relatives—his uncle Vincent and his cousins—looked upon him with eyes filled with jealousy and greed. They despised the fact that an orphan like him could rise so high while they remained in his shadow. And so, they devised a plan to take everything from him.

One evening, Vincent invited Ethan to a private family gathering at a secluded mansion.

"It's rare for you all to invite me," Ethan said, smiling as he stepped inside. "What's the occasion?"

Derek, his eldest cousin, grinned. "We just wanted to celebrate your success, cousin. After all, you've done so well for yourself."

Ethan nodded, unaware of the malice in their eyes. As they dined, the atmosphere felt off. A strange tension hung in the air. And then—

Pain.

A sharp, searing pain in his stomach. Ethan looked down in shock to see a dagger buried deep into his flesh. Blood pooled beneath him as his vision blurred.

"W-Why…?" he gasped, barely able to comprehend what was happening.

Vincent's cold gaze met his. "Because you have everything, while we have nothing. Now, it all belongs to us."

More blades followed. Each stab sent waves of agony through him. His vision darkened, his strength drained, and the laughter of his betrayers was the last thing he heard as the world turned black.

A dull ache filled Ethan's body as consciousness returned. His senses felt strange—his limbs lighter, his surroundings unfamiliar. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

"Your Highness! You must not move so suddenly!" a woman's voice called out urgently.

Ethan blinked, his sight adjusting to a dimly lit chamber. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, and the soft glow of candles illuminated a large, ornate bed. He raised a hand, only to pause in shock.

His hands were smaller, more delicate than before.

A mirror beside the bed caught his attention. As he turned his gaze toward it, his breath hitched. The reflection staring back at him was not his own.

Long silver hair cascaded past his shoulders. Piercing golden eyes stared at him with confusion. His face—young, unfamiliar, yet undeniably regal.

Memories flooded his mind. This body belonged to Alistair Drakos, the twelfth prince of the Holy Drakos Empire. A weak, overlooked royal in a world where magic and swordsmanship reigned supreme.

"Prince Alistair," the woman beside him spoke again. She was elderly, dressed in a modest maid's uniform, her expression filled with worry. "You collapsed after training too hard. Please, do not push yourself."

Ethan—or Alistair—processed her words. Magic? Sword training? This was not the world he had known.

His fingers curled into fists. I was betrayed. I was murdered. And now… I have been given another life?

His golden eyes burned with determination. If fate had granted him another chance, he would not waste it. He would rise, stronger than ever.

This time, he would take everything.