Chapter 2: The Second Time



Aric’s eyelids fluttered open, his breath heavy as his pupils darted from one corner to another, trying to make out where he was. The dimly lit room was small, its walls cracked like spider webs, and it was filled with royal furniture that had long passed its glory days.

The space was less air than dust, made visible by the weak moonlight sneaking through the curtains, and the entire thing smelled of neglect.

Aric clenched his chest, expecting to find the fatal wound that should have killed him. Instead, all he felt was the rapid thumping of his heart.

He sat up quickly, scanning the room again. The familiar sight of the shabby chamber sent a flash of recognition through him, along with a wave of confusion.

’How is this possible?’

Aric remembered dying clearly, the sting of betrayal as he was left for dead on the battlefield still fresh in his mind.

His hand trembled slightly as he raised it, expecting to see the calloused, weathered palms of a soldier. What he saw instead was a young and frail hand—almost skeletal.

Panic settled as he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled towards a mirror hung on the far wall.

The peeling gold of the mirror and its glass reflected the same thing: it was not the hardened face of a thirty-five-year-old man who had seen more pain and suffering than most. No, what stared back at him was a pale, sickly boy, no more than sixteen, with hollow cheeks, dark circles under his eyes, and a frail body.

Aric touched his face and then his reflection, the cold glass of the mirror met his fingertips as he struggled to reconcile the image before him with the man he knew himself to be.

Then, once more, the memories of the life he lived rushed at his mind.

Just then, the atmosphere shifted—a very subtle change, almost unnoticeable.

A soft chime echoed in the room, and following it was a transparent screen that appeared before his eyes. Lines of text began to form, floating in the air, and they looked similar to what he had seen just before he was killed.

-————————

Name: [Aric Valerian]

Title: [Forgotten Prince]

Race: [Human]

Level: [Null]

Health (HP): [14/15]

Stamina: [3/4]

Ki: [Null]

\\\\Attributes:

Strength: [2]

Agility: [2]

Endurance: [3]

Intelligence: [3]

-————————

Before he could react to the screen, a small, glowing figure materialized in front of him, hovering a few feet above the ground.

It was no bigger than his hand, with small and delicate wings on its back, seemingly useless as they did not move. The figure had a vaguely humanoid shape, with a tiny, round face, large eyes that glowed with a faint light, and a halo of soft, luminescent hair that framed its head like a crown.

Aric instinctively stepped back, his heart racing. "W-what... what are you?"

But when it spoke, its voice was as robotic as ever. "User’s current objective: Survive. More detailed instructions will be provided as circumstances dictate. Please prepare accordingly."

And with that, the guide’s wings fluttered once more, and it floated backward slightly, giving Aric space. It seemed to be waiting, patiently and without emotion... for something.

As Aric stared at the screen before him in apprehension, still trying to process what exactly it was he was looking at, he began to hear shouts and the clatter of metal outside of his room.

This familiar rhythm of chaos was engraved in his mind, his heart began to race as the memories began to flood back—he knew this day, this moment.

If he had been sent back, then this was the day that his estate was ambushed.

Panic gripped him as he began to run, his sickly body protesting with each step he took as he stumbled towards the door, his frail legs struggling to move with the urgency he felt.

He knew what happened next, it was burned into his memory from his past life.

Aric managed to push open the door of his room, revealing the barely lit hallway, and immediately the metallic stench of blood flooded his nostrils.

Then his eyes fell on the gruesome sight: two of his caretakers, loyal but powerless, lay dead on the floor, their throats slit and leaking crimson as blood pooled around their lifeless bodies.

He froze, his body trembling as memory of this exact scene came back to him. The masked men who killed the caretakers turned their attention to Aric, their cold eyes narrowing as they saw him.

Perhaps that would have terrified him more, but he knew they weren’t here for him.

From a nearby room, Aric began to hear the terrified screams of his third caretaker—a kind woman who had shown him the only compassion he had ever known. Along with her screams were the perverted laughs of one of the men echoing from the room.

He watched in horror as moments later the masked man dragged her out by the hair, her clothes torn, her face twisted in fear and pain.

His breath caught in his throat as he recalled this exact moment, the powerlessness he felt in his inability to stop it then, and now...

’What now...’

The woman’s screams of pain and fear filled the hallway, mingling with the snickering of the men. Aric fell to his knees as his legs gave in, he had stood for too long and even that had taken its toll on his weak body.

"Please... don’t..." he whispered, his voice cracking as he begged the men to spare her.

The woman clenched her teeth as she screamed at Aric.

"Stop them... please... order them to stop... just this once, help me," the woman’s voice trembled with pain.

Aric opened his mouth to plead for the woman’s life again, but then the leader of the masked men smirked behind his mask, and without hesitation, slit the woman’s throat.

A spray of crimson splattered across the floor, the woman’s eyes rolling back before they let her body crumple to the ground, lifeless.

A cold numbness ran through Aric, a paralyzing dose of pain washing over him as he watched her die for the second time. The same helplessness, the same despair. He could do nothing but watch.

The hallway fell silent, so much so that it was almost deafening, a biting chill singing through it, as though to signify something.

The killers, amused and satisfied, began to turn in preparation to depart. Then Aric’s weak voice echoed in the night.

"After all of that, you want to just walk away?"

The masked men turned their attention back to Aric, and this time something inside of him snapped. His vision blurred as the screen flashed a question before him.

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[ Use Rejuvenation Boost? ]

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"Yes," Aric muttered, pulling out a dagger he had placed in his robe.