Prologue (Extra long)
"YOU FILTHY COMMONER BASTARD!"
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This prologue is only to emphasize how terrible and low effort Ravenns story was made in the book as a minor antagonist, this chapter is only building for his old character I promise the MC won't be like this after he gets transmigrated;-;
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A boy—no older than nine—stood with his foot grinding mercilessly into another child's face, twisting his heel as if trying to crush him into the dirt. His black hair, tousled and wild, framed a face contorted in fury.
"HOW DARE YOU—HOW DARE YOU, YOU WRETCHED PEASANT?!" he roared, his voice echoing through the dark field. He stomped down again, the sickening crack of bone piercing the night as blood splattered across the ground. "YOU, SOMEONE NOT EVEN WORTHY TO WIPE SWINE SHIT OFF MY BOOT!"
A choked sob broke through the air.
"P-please, Prince Vaedricourt, my brother meant no offense!"
A girl—pale, trembling, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks—stepped forward. Her hands clutched at the hem of her tattered cloak as she stared up at him, pleading.
No offense?
No offense?
Had she not seen it? Had she not heard it?
The laugh.
A noble girl—her name didn't matter anymore—had laughed. Briefly, but it had happened.
And all because of him.
This... thing... lying broken in the dirt. A worm who had dared to stand on the same stage as him during the daily combat trials, who had managed, through some miracle, to land a single strike on him. A single, worthless strike—one that meant nothing, that should have been forgotten the moment it happened.
And yet, she had laughed.
He hadn't even lost. He had beaten the peasant boy bloody the moment after, left him crumpled in a heap before the instructors could intervene, and still—still—that laugh rang in his ears.
And so he waited until evening, watching for the commoner, to teach him a lesson without the teacher's interference.
"You think yourself gifted, don't you?" Vaedricourt hissed, grinding his foot harder against the boy's face. "Did it feel good? Hitting a noble? Did it make you think, for even a moment, that you were more than the shit under my heel?"
The boy wheezed, unable to answer.
Vaedricourt's breath came in sharp, furious bursts.
A boy, who he had beaten with ease countless times, who he hardly paid a glance to if it wasn't for bullying in his boredom, had somehow improved overnight, showing a type of combat experience unbefitting of his age. If it wasn't for his weak body, the young Lord might- no, definitely would have lost.
And in the moment the noble girl laughed, however softly, he saw it. A small flicker in the commoner's eye. Something familiar, something he saw in his own eyes every day.
It was pride. Swelling, growing, a flicker of pride that for a moment made the noble wary. No matter the station, the young Lord knew, to not underestimate one's potential. He had been around many powerful individuals. People of humble and extravagant descent. He knew how dangerous that spark was. Even at his young age, however foolish and brash he may be, he saw how it could topple entire empires.
He wanted to erase it.
That laughter. That flicker of amusement. That spark. That moment.
But, that spark died in the next second, himself assumingly the only person who had seen it. That brief moment, where his taught intelligence overpowered his ego as a noble, died with it, returning to him his usual obnoxious demeanor.
He beat the boy, but it wasn't enough. It's what led him here, to this moment. To the moment when he as a noble, disciplining a commoner, was spoken out against, by the same commoner's sister at that.
They were in the square, which was, by no means, a private place. The throngs of commoners around them watched the beatdown with ashen expressions. And yet only she spoke out. For yet another time, the noble halted himself, an almost foreign sense of intelligence, something akin to common sense donning upon a fool, appearing in his mind.
'These two... there's something strange about them'.
For a moment, his foot still raised mid-air, the prince hesitated.
And then he sneered.
What was he talking about? These two commoners, special? He almost laughed at himself for these thoughts. After all, she had told him there was nothing special about these ants, and not just them either, commoners in their entirety. Sure there were a few odd ones out, but that meant nothing. This method of thinking defied his noble teachings, but it was a lesson, instilled into him by his most trusted friend. He would have to talk to her after this, these slight lapses, a different mode of thought were slipping through more and more often.
With a final, bone-jarring stomp, he stepped away from the broken boy beneath him, closing the distance between himself and the girl in a single stride—too fast for any normal child.
Gasps rippled through the watching crowd as his fist shot forward, aimed straight for her face. Some turned away, others squeezed their eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact.
And yet—
It never came.
His fist hovered, trembling just an inch from her tear-streaked cheek. Muscles tensed, veins bulged, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push forward. His own body refused to obey.
Silence fell over the field.
Prince Vaedricourt's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts as his arm remained locked in place. A flicker of something—confusion, frustration, rage—crossed his face.
And then, his expression twisted.
A fearful expression covered his face as he stepped back with a shaky foot, teeth grinding against each other in apparent annoyance.
"Ravenn Vaedricourt—no... boy... what do you think you are doing?" A man, imposingly stood behind the tyrannical child.
The surrounding crowd shivered, all instinctively lowering their heads in his presence. No one had seen him arrive. No one had seen how he appeared behind the noble child. But most of all, no one had expected this man himself to appear. Not when all the other times the child caused trouble it was knights or his siblings that intervened.
Ravenn's eyes widened. Almost instinctively, he dropped to a knee, head bowed before the man's powerful visage. He too understood what this man's presence meant.
"Fathe-" he started before an overwhelming force descended upon his body.
Ravenn dropped to his hands, struggling to keep himself off the floor as the man stepped closer.
"I ordered you to let the matter go, boy," the man's voice rumbled irritably. "Have you not caused enough trouble for one day? Have you not grown weary of staining our family name?"
Ravenn shivered. His father had warned him not to retaliate against the commoner, sending a telepathic message to the head teacher. He told him, that if he felt anger, it should be directed towards himself for not being strong enough to avoid the hit.
"D-duke Vaedricourt," Ravenn managed to choke out, "I-it was this peasant's fault in the fir-!"
The pressure on Ravenn exploded, far heavier than before, a warning not to test Vaedricourt's patience. The boy slammed headfirst into the floor, digging into the cobblestone path as the raging aura crushed him, only light enough not to break his bones.
The words hung in the air, but the man's gaze never softened. Instead, he moved toward Ravenn, towering over him.
"I will not tolerate this behavior any longer," Lord Vaedricourt hissed, his tone sharp as he clutched Ravenn's chin, forcing him to look up into his father's cold eyes. "Apologize. Now."
Ravenn's throat tightened. He tried to hold onto his anger, but the force in his father's words, in his presence, shattered him.
Duke Lucien Vaedricourt, a former member of the King's army. His power, that of legends, his Order magic, whispered about through men as if a myth, tales of his power never verified for a simple reason. Few had ever witnessed his might.
And lived that is.
A warrior at the peak of the Twilight rank.
The man was tall, not robust, but his frame filled with muscle nonetheless. His hair, a contrast from Ravenns black, was an almost golden blonde, his clothes, the signature Vaedricourt silver and gold, were majestic as they glowed under the sun's rays.
Vaedricourt had always seemed almost godlike, omnipotent—his anger was a storm, an unyielding force that Ravenn could never escape. The air seemed to crackle with Lord Vaedricourt's immense power, and Ravenn had no choice but to bow his head in defeat.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, yet heard through all around, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Lord Vaedricourt nodded stiffly, turning to face the surrounding townspeople. "I offer my apologies, on behalf of my son and house Vaedricourt, to those he has wronged," he declared, his voice resounding with dignity. "May this act serve to amend any insult done to your honor."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd. Some stared at Lord Vaedricourt, horrified that the proud noble had humbled himself before commoners, but others seemed to appreciate the gesture. Ravenn's fists clenched, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears.
"That's right," the Duke reached to the air, pulling a small leather pouch and piece of paper out of seemingly nowhere, before crouching in front of the crying girl and unconscious boy on the ground beside her. "Use this document and gold, pay for your brother's treatment, and use whatever remains for whatever you wish," his tone final, the words ringing with authority before he motioned for a nearby carriage to approach.
The carriage was a bright, almost mystical shade of silver, with amber and gold linings and adornments, on its side, four scales crossed together in an X shape, the Vaedricourt coat of arms. It rolled to a stop beside the Duke, the driver's eyes knowingly locked onto Ravenn, a young woman, bearing a striking resemblance to the Duke, opening the door for him.
Ravenn clenched his teeth as the girl, tall and lithe, golden hair flowing down her shoulders, paid him no mind, closing the door behind his father as fast as it was opened.
Ravenn watched as the carriage rumbled to life and began to move away. But his father's cold eyes remained locked on him through the carriage window. "You," Lord Vaedricourt said, "You will walk home. Your sister and I have business to attend to."
Ravenn swallowed hard as his father's carriage rolled away without him, leaving him to trudge through the streets, the weight of his humiliation heavier than ever before, as he was forced to bear the angry eyes of the commoners until he was out of the square. The night air seemed colder than usual, a biting wind tugging at his hair. It wasn't the first time he had walked home in disgrace—but it was the first time it had hurt so much.
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As Ravenn walked, the shadow of his father's presence loomed over him like a cloud he couldn't shake. His pride, shattered and trampled, was like a distant memory, leaving only raw frustration in its wake. But soon, he wasn't alone.
A woman, pale in complexion with deep purple eyes and striking black hair, emerged from the darkness, her soft footsteps barely audible, her face adorned with a silent smile. Aria, his maid, a silent guardian when in the confines of his home, someone to fall back on when he couldn't bear the weight of his father's expectations, had always been there for him, a silent confidante, a presence that could never be shaken. She had been his shield against the world.
"Don't let them make you feel weak, Ravenn," Aria said quietly, walking beside him. "You weren't wrong. You're above them. They are commoners, peasants—nothing more than tools for us to use."
Her words, full of venom and conviction, soothed his anger. "They deserved it," Ravenn muttered bitterly. "He humiliated me in front of everyone. And my father… he humiliated me as well."
Aria smiled at him, her eyes gleaming. "Your father doesn't understand. But you do. You know you're better than them. You don't need to apologize. Ever."
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The mansion loomed large as Ravenn was led inside. The golden gates were bright and welcoming, beautifully reflecting the sun. The family crest, those scales, embossed on the grand door. It was a symbol of justice and honor, and Ravenn felt its weight more keenly than ever.
The inside was just as cold and austere as the night air. Tall columns supported a grand staircase, and paintings of past Vaedricourt ancestors adorned the walls. The furniture was heavy, formal—everything was as it should be, a palace to a family whose power stretched far and wide.
A maid, slender with sharp features and an air of calculated servitude, met them at the door. Her name was Amalia, and she was one of the few servants who ever spoke directly to Ravenn without fear.
"Welcome back, Master Ravenn," she said, her voice tinged with mock sweetness. "Your father has been waiting," she spoke, eyes tracking Aria as the woman walked away.
Her presence always irritated Ravenn—her constant whispers of superiority, her words sweet but laced with venom. She had always been there, a constant in his life, just like Aria. But unlike Aria, always ready to flatter his ego and convince him of his superiority over the common masses, Amalia served to humble him. A constant reminder that not everyone was to submit to him. And he hated it.
He nodded curtly, barely acknowledging her. "Where is he?"
"Dining room," she replied, gesturing down the hall.
As Ravenn walked to the dining room, he passed several other servants—maids, and butlers who all cast their eyes downward, but Aria always watched him with a strange intensity. It was unsettling. But he didn't have the energy to care at that moment.
Inside the hall, Lord Vaedricourt sat at the far end of a long, polished oak table. A single candle flickered in the center, casting shadows across his face. There was no one but them here tonight—no Lady Vaedricourt, no siblings. Just the two of them.
Ravenn sat down in silence. The food was sparse—stew and bread, a simple meal meant for function, not enjoyment. The silence stretched between them like a thick fog, broken only by the clink of silverware.
Ravenn shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes downcast as he tore a piece of bread apart with his fingers. The silence was suffocating, each scrape of silverware against the plate a deafening echo in the vast dining hall.
Lord Vaedricourt finally spoke, his voice like iron, firm yet calm. "You will tell me what happened."
Ravenn didn't look up. "You were there, Father. You saw."
The Duke set his spoon down with deliberate care. "I did not ask what I saw. I asked what happened."
Ravenn hesitated, then clenched his fists. "That peasant insulted me. He—"
"Enough." The word was spoken softly, but it may as well have been a blade slicing through the air. "That peasant..." he paused. "Beat you," he finished tone even.
Ravenn gritted his teeth, knowing exactly what his father meant. He had lost his temper, shown out, shown again that he was unworthy of his status. "Why did you make me apologize?" He finally looked up, and his father's face was unreadable. "They're the ones who should beg for forgiveness, not me."
Lord Vaedricourt's expression remained cold. "Because I refuse to let you drag this family's name further into the mud over a single landed attack."
Ravenn flinched.
The Duke leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "You are a Vaedricourt. Your actions do not reflect upon you alone, but upon me, your mother, your siblings, and our lineage. I will not allow your recklessness to stain what we have built for hundreds of years."
Ravenn swallowed his anger, but it still burned inside him. "You humiliated me."
"You" Lord Vaedricourt exhaled sharply, "Humiliated yourself," he said shaking his head. "Humiliation is the least of what you should concern yourself with though."
A heavy silence settled between them once more.
Ravenn glared down at his plate. "You always tell me how our family is meant to rule, but today, you acted like a coward. Bowing to peasants."
For the first time that night, something flickered across his father's face—something dangerous.
"You are a foolish child," Lord Vaedricourt murmured, voice deceptively quiet.
Ravenn stiffened as his father rose from his seat. The Duke did not look at him as he spoke his final words for the night.
"This is your last warning. Step out of line again, and you will regret it."
With that, he strode out of the dining hall, leaving Ravenn alone in the candlelit silence.
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Outside the door, hidden in a shadowy corridor, a figure lurked. Smiling under the cover of a column, before slinking away undetected.
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Later that night, Ravenn met up with his friends—Roland, Elias, and Darius. They were all noble blood, much like him. But unlike his father, they didn't care for restraint. They were reckless, merciless—and most of all, they enjoyed watching Ravenn crumble under his humiliation.
Roland slapped him on the back with a laugh. "What was it like, Ravenn? Kneeling before those filthy peasants? Begging for forgiveness?" an exaggerated haughty look on his face.
Ravenn's jaw clenched. He tried to suppress the anger, but it boiled over. "You think I'll let them get away with this?" His voice was sharp. "I'll show them who I am. I'll show them what happens when you mess with a noble."
His friends exchanged knowing glances, each one egging him on. Darius leaned forward. "What if you burned their little orphanage down? Teach them a real lesson," he goaded, before bursting into laughter with the others over the insane thought.
Ravenn felt a dark part of him stir, the part that had always reveled in power and control. The fire that raged within him wasn't just about getting back at the commoners—it was about reasserting his dominance. He didn't care about the consequences.
"I'm going to do it," Ravenn muttered, his voice low and determined. "I'll show them what happens when they defy me."
The other looked at him in shock for a moment, the laughter pausing, before resuming again. But there was something different in the laughter. It wasn't mocking, all seemingly in agreement on what was going to happen next.
Maybe if he had known how badly things would spiral from here, Ravenn would have thought harder. Maybe he would have chosen a different past. But it was too late now.
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The plan was simple: he would visit the orphanage where the boy he had tormented lived. He wasn't going to kill anyone—no, just a scare. A small fire, a warning. But the fire... it grew.
A small fire meant to scare the boy he had tormented previously—but it quickly got out of hand. The flames spread, and soon the whole building was engulfed. Ravenn stood there, watching as the fire raged, the acrid smoke burning his eyes. Panic rose in his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen. But it was too late. The fire had spread faster than anyone could have imagined.
The cries for help, the destruction, the screams—everything blurred as the orphanage was consumed by the flames. Only when a nearby guild intervened, dousing the fire with water, was it stopped. By then, however, it was too late. Several children had perished. Many others were severely burned.
Ravenn stood in the wreckage, numb. He hadn't meant for any of this. But the consequences didn't matter anymore. He could feel his whole world shattering.
His friends, long gone, would get away scot-free. He would bear the weight of this incident. And he knew it would be soul-crushing.
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The trial was swift and brutal. The charges against him were read aloud: violent crimes, petty theft from some nameless commoners, and now, the fire at the orphanage. Charges he had forgotten about, things that were never previously brought up, all brought before him. He stood there in silence, his heart hammering in his chest, as his world came crashing down. His siblings, were away on business, his mother, at the mansion, too ashamed to even appear.
His father, the judge presiding over the case had an eerily calm look on his face. As if he had predicted this very day long ago.
But there was one more accusation—the most damning of all. Aria, the maid who had always supported him, had lied. She accused him of a crime he didn't commit: sexually assaulting her.
"I know the master is young... but he has certain urges, ones he refuses to ignore," she spun, tears welling in her eyes. "I-I didn't know what to do, if I ever turned him away he threatened to have me executed."
She sobbed, the jury eating up every last bit of her story.
"YOU LIAR" Ravenn screamed. "ARIA, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, YOU KNOW THAT ISN'T TR-" he cried out before a pressure descended upon him, forcing him into silence.
Duke Vaedricourt, held up a single finger, a clear threat.
"For these crimes brought against you Ravenn Vaedricourt..." the Duke sighed. "I bestow upon you the highest possible sentence. As head of the Vaedricourt East family branch, I strip you of your Vaedricourt name, and sentence you to execution at the earliest convenience."
Ravenn's stomach twisted in disbelief, but no one would listen. His noble name—his title, his everything—was stripped away in a moment. The Duke, his father, had no choice but to deliver the sentence: Ravenn was to be executed.
He was led from the courtroom, his heart heavy with rage, his hands shackled. The whispers of the crowd, the scorn, the pity—they all rang in his ears. It felt like his entire world had crumbled.
The days in prison were long, endless. The cold stone walls, the damp air, the silence—everything weighed on him. His world was gone, shattered. The boy who had once been a lord, the child who had ruled over everyone—was now reduced to nothing.
And then, after weeks of waiting, the day of his execution arrived.
Ravenn was marched through the streets, the people lining up to see the once-proud noble brought low. The crowd jeered, mocked, and spat at him as he walked past. His father, standing tall and cold beside him, never spoke a word.
The execution was near. The final humiliation.
At the execution site, Ravenn stood before the cliff, the wind howling around him. Lord Vaedricourt, his father, stood next to him. Ravenn looked up at him—this man who had been his world, his god, his everything. And now, he was nothing.
"I expected... so much more from you."
Ravenn lowered his head. There was no need for words. They both knew what came next.
His father raised his hand and with a single gesture—a wave of raw Vis energy—Ravenn was struck. A wave of energy slammed into his chest, sending him tumbling off the edge of the cliff.
The fall was endless. The world spun, and Ravenn's last thought... he had never been prepared for the fall.
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"What a crappy backstory."