Chapter 5: The Path of No Return
"Alistair Drakos, Twelfth Prince of the Holy Drakos Empire, shall participate in the Trials of the Drakos Bloodline. His performance shall determine his place in this empire."
A murmur rippled through the court like an approaching storm. The nobles whispered among themselves, some with amusement, others with thinly veiled disdain.
"A sickly prince in the trials? He will perish within the first test."
"Perhaps this is the King's way of disposing of him."
Among the powerful figures in the chamber, the Seven Dukes and the Four Generals exchanged knowing smiles. Their expressions ranged from intrigue to satisfaction, as if they had anticipated this decision. Their silence spoke louder than the murmurs of the lesser nobles.
Alistair's golden eyes remained steady. He did not flinch, did not falter. With a deep breath, he turned on his heel, leaving the chamber. Sofia, his ever-loyal maid, followed closely behind, her hands clenched tightly in her dress.
As the two walked down the grand hallway, the weight of the decision bore down upon him. Each step felt heavier, his vision blurred, and before he could react—
His body gave out.
Collapsing onto the marble floor, the cold seeped into his skin. Distant voices echoed, but darkness swallowed his senses before he could grasp their meaning.
A sharp pain pulsed through his skull as Alistair's eyes fluttered open. The familiar scent of herbs and the warmth of a damp cloth against his forehead greeted him. Sofia's worried face hovered above him, relief washing over her features as their eyes met.
"Y-Your Highness! You're awake!" she gasped, gripping his hand tightly.
"How long... have I been out?" he rasped, his throat dry.
"Two days, my lord." Her voice trembled. "You collapsed after leaving the throne room. I was so worried."
Two days.
The realization struck him like a blade. That meant—
Sofia hesitated before speaking again. "Your Highness... there are only five days left until your birthday. If you do not sense mana before then, you will never be able to use it." Her voice grew softer, as if the truth itself pained her.
A weight settled in Alistair's chest. The blood of Drakos flowed in his veins, and yet, if he could not awaken his mana, he would remain a cripple among his kind.
"I see." His voice was calm, but a storm raged within him.
He forced himself up, ignoring the sharp protest from his aching limbs. Clenching his fists, he steadied his breath. "Then I have no choice. I must sense mana. Now."
"But, Your Highness—!"
Ignoring Sofia's plea, he sat cross-legged on the bed and shut his eyes, focusing inward. He reached out, seeking the elusive energy that every warrior and mage could wield.
Then—
A searing pain tore through his body.
It felt as if his very blood was rejecting him, his veins burning as if liquid fire coursed through them. His muscles screamed in agony, his bones groaning under an invisible weight.
Then—
Darkness.
A nightmare consumed him.
The betrayal.
The hands of his own blood relatives, the poison coursing through his veins, the sneering faces that watched him die. The cruel laughter. The sheer helplessness as his vision faded.
And then—
ERROR.
A distorted voice rang in his mind, unlike anything he had heard before.
Revelation Failed. Reassessment in Progress.
A sudden force yanked him out of the abyss.
Alistair's eyes shot open, his breath ragged. His body ached, but he was alive.
The first thing he saw was Sofia, sitting beside him, gently dabbing his forehead with a cloth. Her eyes were red-rimmed, exhaustion evident in her posture.
"You... stayed by my side," he murmured.
Sofia jolted in surprise, then quickly composed herself. "Of course, my lord. I would not leave you."
A warmth spread through his chest. He had been alone in his past life, but in this one... perhaps not.
The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the windows, Alistair turned to Sofia.
"Tell me," he began, his tone firm, "What exactly is mana? And what separates knights, aura knights, and mages?"
Sofia blinked before nodding. "Of course, Your Highness. Mana is the essence of life, the power that fuels magic and strengthens warriors. Those without it are limited, but those who awaken it gain great strength."
Alistair leaned forward, absorbing her words.
"Knights are warriors who have trained their bodies to the peak, relying purely on skill and strength," she continued. "Aura Knights, however, channel mana into their bodies, enhancing their speed, power, and resilience beyond human limits."
"And mages?"
"Mages wield mana externally, shaping it into spells and bending the elements to their will. Higher-ranked mages, such as Archmages, can command magic on a grand scale, rewriting the very laws of nature."
A spark of understanding ignited within Alistair. "Then... my body? What happened when I tried to sense mana?"
Sofia's face darkened. "Two weeks ago, when you collapsed... your body resisted mana itself. That is not normal, Your Highness. It was as if something within you rejected it."
Her voice turned hesitant. "And now... your condition is even stranger."
Alistair frowned. "Stranger how?"
Before Sofia could answer, a faint glow flickered before his eyes.
A transparent window appeared in front of him, lines of text forming in elegant script:
STATUS WINDOW
[Name]: Alistair Drakos
[Title]: Twelfth Prince of the Holy Drakos Empire
[Blessings]: God of Creation's Blessing, God of Dragons' Blessing[Attributes]: Weak
[Condition]: Poisoned (Critical)
His breath hitched.
A blessing from the God of Creation? And the God of Dragons? What did this mean?
But his eyes locked onto one detail. The last line, glowing ominously in red:
Poisoned.
To Be Continued...