Memory and Madness

  A sharp gasp tore through the darkness as Aldric von Eldoria—no, that wasn’t his name, was it?—jolted awake. His skull throbbed, his lungs burned, and his fingers clenched against silk sheets.

  "I died."

  The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. One moment, he had been in a b, on the verge of a breakthrough. The next—an explosion, searing pain, then nothing.

  And now… this.

  A vish bedchamber. The scent of incense. The distant ctter of armor.

  "Reincarnation? No… this feels too real for a dream."

  A knock at the door.

  "Prince Aldric?" A servant’s voice, hesitant. "Your father… the king requests your presence."

  Aldric’s lips curled into a smirk. So, I’m royalty now. Interesting.

  The Court of Snakes

  The throne room was a den of wolves.

  King Edric von Eldoria sat upon a weathered throne, his once-mighty frame now hunched with age. Around him, nobles whispered—some with pity, most with disdain—as Aldric entered.

  "Ah, my brilliant son," the king said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Finally gracing us with your presence."

  Aldric didn’t flinch. His mind was already analyzing:

  The Crown Prince, Darius – A brute with a sword but no subtlety.

  Duke Vexley – Smiling too wide, hands too clean. A schemer.

  Bishop Orn – Eyes like a hawk, no doubt already judging him.

  "So these are my enemies."

  "Father," Aldric said smoothly, "forgive my dey. I was… contempting how best to serve Eldoria."

  A few nobles scoffed. The "useless prince" had never shown ambition before.

  But Aldric wasn’t the same man.

  The First Move

  That night, in his private study, Aldric began his work.

  Magic Theory – This world’s "mana" followed rules. If energy couldn’t be created or destroyed… could it be harnessed like electricity?

  Alchemy – Basic potions existed, but what if he refined them? A healing elixir ten times stronger?

  Weapons – Swords and arrows were primitive. Could he create something… more?

  A knock interrupted him.

  "Enter."

  A girl with silver hair—Lydia, his personal maid—stepped in, holding a tray. "You haven’t eaten, my prince."

  Aldric studied her. She was the only one who hadn’t looked at him with scorn.

  "Tell me, Lydia," he said, taking the tray. "Do you believe in miracles?"

  She blinked. "Miracles?"

  He smirked. "Because I’m about to create one."