A Prince Without Throne
Humans have waged wars for millennia, driven by an insatiable hunger for wealth and resources. Even as they achieved technological supremacy with weapons capable of annihilating the planet, their greed remained unquenched. Legends say that if all the Earth's treasures and every living being were given to one man, he would still gaze upon the stars and whisper, "If only these were mine."
Throughout history, cycles of destruction and reconstruction defined humanity's fate. Empires rose and crumbled as peace treaties fell beneath the weight of ambition. War and greed seemed bound to human destiny until a few among them transcended their mortal limits and stepped into realms of pure spirit.
The Spirit World, a dimension overlapping Earth since the dawn of time, remained hidden from most. Fourth-dimensional spirit species moved freely between worlds, their influence unseen but often felt.
For humans, trapped to their three-dimensional matter bodies, sensing these beings took eons of evolution.
Even brief interactions with spirit creatures could drive a human mind to madness. Thankfully, such encounters were rare.
Spirit races held little interest in humanity, seeing no value in a species that could not shed their corporeal forms.
Yet rumors spread of mysterious potions, born from spirit knowledge, capable of awakening latent human bloodlines.
Which beings had crafted these elixirs, and through what arcane experimentation, remained a mystery. It was whispered that 97% of human potential lay dormant, as if a slumbering dragon stirred deep within their very veins, waiting for the right moment to awaken and that opportunity was the spirit world gave them
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On a forgotten battlefield, where chaos had once reigned, shadows of tragedy lingered. Groups of investigators moved among the ruins, weaving spells to uncover the catastrophe that had transpired.
Among them, geomancers, experts in harnessing the power of the earth and natural terrain and necrologists commanded death's remnants, their incantations thick with power.
At a distance, a master and her pupil worked with quiet intensity.
Objects shifted in their hands as they performed spells and rituals to reconstruct the battle's final moments. Visions danced before them scenes visible only to their eyes.
The master, cloaked in robes bearing the symbol of the All-Seeing Eye encircled by radiant lines, was an oracle, a seer of unparalleled insight.
Her power reached beyond the confines of time, revealing both past and future.
Her pupil, wearing the emblem of a Tree of Memories, was a memory archivist. Each leaf on the tree represented a preserved fragment of the past, a connection to the threads of life woven into history itself.
Together, they were part of the Knowledge Keepers and Sages, guardians of wisdom and the unknown.
Not far from the duo, a man clad in black robes stood motionless.
On his arm, a skull symbol marked him as a member of the Secret Order, a faction shrouded in darkness.
His aura pulsed with malice, an existence cursed to walk the earth. His eyes, sharp as blades, gleamed with sinister intent as he watched the pair. Yet he made no move.
He craved conflict, but rules bound him. All were here on sanctioned tasks, and without just cause, he could not strike.
Though the skull emblem adorned all members of the Secret Order, each division's design was unique. Identifying his branch was impossible, but his presence radiated power, hinting at his deadly potential.
The moon hung high, its silver glow casting a ghostly light over the battlefield.
The stars seemed to whisper tales of fallen warriors, their sacrifices etched into the very soil. Yet, for those gathered here, darkness held no threat.
These were archmage sorcerers, ranging from Level 5 to Level 9, masters of forces unseen. Unlike lesser sorcerers of Levels 1 to 4, whose souls were bound to their mortal bodies, archmages possessed a profound connection to the spirit realm. They could traverse dimensions without the rare aid of a spirit being
This battlefield, once a site of ruin, now held a fragile peace. But the air thrummed with tension, for knowledge was power and power always tempted fate.
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On the outskirts of Thalorion, a young boy with eyes as black as the abyss sat engrossed in an ancient tome.
His tattered black clothes clung to his thin frame, blending him into the darkness that now enveloped the Synax Kingdom.
Midnight had fallen, and with it, silence reigned over the land.
This was no ordinary book. It was the same arcane manuscript Noah had discovered after his previous incarnation perished, an item retrieved from a sack of holding.
Its dark magic reeked of forbidden rituals tied to secret orders, mysteries that few dared to unravel. As Noah's slender fingers traced its pages, his thoughts stirred with unease.
"This ancient tome is shrouded in mystery. Its dark magic rituals and connections to secret orders make it a perilous artifact. The fact that it was in the possession of my previous host suggests a hidden purpose.
The book's presence in Noah's hands now implies that he is being manipulated, a pawn in a secret game.
Someone is using him to further their own hidden agenda.
I must act swiftly. If Noah is entangled in a web of traps, his family may also be in danger."
Nearby, a figure of ethereal beauty reclined lazily on the grass.
His sapphire-blue eyes gleamed like celestial gems, and a faint smirk played on his lips as he watched Noah.
The angelic youth spoke with an air of detached amusement.
"Boy, before you lose yourself in those shadows, perhaps you should wash. The stench rolling off you has kept the beasts away but even your hunger has limits. Find a river, clean yourself, and then we'll talk about reaching the nearest city."
Noah sniffed his clothes. His expression soured, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Ugh… revolting!"
The angel chuckled. "Exactly. Rest first. Tomorrow, if fortune smiles, we'll find a steam locomotive or at least a carriage. A wagon, at worst. Either way, we'll head for your hometown."
As they conversed, the crunch of boots on dry leaves broke the stillness.
From the shadows of ancient trees, a retinue emerged. Twenty soldiers in polished armor accompning a figure in fine royal garments.
His bearing radiated pride, and disdain twisted his features as if merely breathing the same air as Noah was beneath him.
The prince's eyes flicked over Noah's worn attire before settling into a sneer. "A beggar dares not bow in my presence? Insolence." His words dripped with venom.
Noah spared him a single, indifferent glance. His gaze swept from the soldiers to the man among them whose presence had caught his attention.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Noah's focus returned to the ancient tome.
The prince's lip curled in fury. His voice rose with the weight of his wounded ego. "I leave the capital to gain experience, and this is the respect I'm shown? Even the lowest of beggars should lick the feet of their betters when royalty deigns to appear!"
Noah did not respond. His silence was a blade, cutting deeper than any insult.
The prince's face turned crimson with rage. "You bastard! When an emperor arrives, even the dirt should tremble beneath him!"
Still, there was no answer.
The man Noah had noticed earlier, who stood calm despite the prince's fury, finally spoke. His voice was measured and commanding. "Young man, you misunderstand. In the absence of the emperor, the prince is the throne. His authority is absolute."
Noah's eyes flickered, a spark of amusement touching his features for the first time. His lips parted, and he spoke, calm as a whisper of wind through leaves. "There is no emperor without a throne." His gaze locked with the man's. "So tell me… where is yours?"
The words hung between them like the toll of a bell.
The man regarded Noah in silence before a slow smile curved his lips. Then he burst into laughter, rich and resonant. "Hahaha! So where's my throne, you ask? Ha!"
His laughter filled the night, yet the soldiers remained unmoved. Even the prince did not flinch, for the laughing man was the true power among them.
The moon watched from above as shadows danced across the earth, bearing witness to a story far from its conclusion. Darkness lingered, but within it, destiny stirred.