That evening, inside Ezra's chambers, the fireplace crackled softly. Warm light painted dancing shadows across the floor, casting the room in calm serenity. A stark contrast to the tension coiled beneath the surface.
Valerius sat on a velvet couch, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"Well?" he asked. "Why did you call me here?"
Ezra sat across from him, leaning forward. "Brother… let me ask you something."
Valerius raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you think Duke Natra came here for help?" Ezra continued. "He commands one of the strongest regions in the south. He could've rallied nearby lords, mobilized his own troops. He's no fool. His intelligence network is known for being precise and brutal."
Valerius didn't blink. "I know it's suspicious. But if the Order really is targeting Natra and we do nothing, it sends the wrong message. The royal family can't appear weak. Even if this is some trap… I'll handle it."
Ezra's voice dropped, his tone serious. "But what if they're not trying to kill you?"
Valerius tilted his head. "Then what?"
Ezra's eyes gleamed. "What if they want to talk? Persuade. Manipulate you. Slowly. Carefully. No bloodshed. No alarms. Just… quiet influence. Wouldn't that be the smarter move?"
Valerius leaned back. "If they try, they'll regret it. You know Father. If anything happens to us, he'll wipe their entire duchy off the map."
"Exactly. Which is why they'd never do anything obvious. But a potion? Something subtle? Alchemical? Magical? That could bypass everything."
Valerius scoffed. "A love potion? They'd need an alchemy grandmaster or a Rank 8 mage to brew something strong enough to affect me. There are only five alchemy grandmasters alive—and they're all under royal watch."
"I know," Ezra said. "But this isn't just about alchemists. The Phoenix Order is involved. With them, the rules don't apply."
Valerius's expression darkened. "You think they've gotten their hands on Rank 9-level tools? That's insane. There are only nine known Rank 9s, and they don't bother with politics."
"I'm not saying they'll act personally," Ezra said. "But the Order has deep roots. They could've provided artifacts. Potions. Cursed relics. We can't afford to be careless."
Ezra stood, walked to a carved cabinet, and pulled out a small velvet-wrapped box. He returned and offered it to Valerius.
"This is Mother's necklace," he said. "A divine-class artifact. It resists all forms of mental manipulation, enchantments, and poisons. Don't wear it—just carry it with you. Quietly."
Valerius stared at the box for a long moment. Then he took it.
"You're being cautious," he said.
Ezra gave a tired smile. "I'm being realistic."
Valerius stood. "Fine. I'll take it. But don't worry—I'm not that easy to control."
As he turned to leave, Ezra called softly:
"Brother."
Valerius paused.
Ezra's gaze held something rare—both fear and conviction.
"I know you're strong. But just in case… be careful."
Valerius gave a short nod and stepped out, leaving Ezra alone with the fire.
Ezra stared into the flames.
In the novel, Valerius had fallen for her. The potion worked.
He broke free only at the end—long enough to strike her down.
But by then, it was too late.
A Phoenix Order assassin took his life moments later.
The king fell.
The family collapsed.
Valerius died with regret… knowing he had doomed them all.
Ezra's hands curled into fists.
Not this time.
He would strike first.
He would kill her before she ever laid eyes on his brother.
And if it came to it… he would see the Duke buried.
He looked toward the door Valerius had walked through.
"I won't let you die this time… brother."
After Valerius left and Ezra's task was complete, the young prince knelt on the polished marble floor of his chamber. He sat cross-legged in a lotus position, the room now silent except for the soft hum of energy slowly building in the air.
Closing his eyes, Ezra began his mana training.
While most nobles used common or mid-tier techniques passed down from minor clans or learned through books, Ezra possessed something entirely different—the Celestial Family's unique mana technique, developed by the first king during the Age of Origins. A technique passed down through blood, accessible only to direct descendants.
The air around him shimmered faintly as surrounding mana responded. Invisible strands of energy began flowing toward him, drawn into his body like rivers converging toward a sea. The mana coursed through his veins, guided by the ancient technique, finally gathering at his dantian, the core of energy within him.
A faint pulse resonated from his center—his core, glowing deep violet.
A Purple Core.
Ezra smirked to himself.
Something no one has seen in centuries…
A core of S-Rank.
In the records stored within the royal archives, only one case of a purple core had ever been noted, and even that was considered legend. The strength, durability, and energy capacity of an S-Rank core were said to be unmatched. Its potential wasn't just rare—it was unparalleled.
Even the two so-called protagonists of the novel—Arthur and Marcus—only had A-Rank cores.
Back when I read this story, Ezra thought, I was shocked. A character like this—top scores in the entrance exam, rarest core in the world, exceptional talent—killed off before even attending his first class.
He didn't die because he was weak. He died because the author needed him out of the way.
But now… now things were different.
Ezra's fingers curled slightly as mana surged into his dantian. The pressure inside his body rose rapidly, heat spreading through his limbs as he forced the energy to compress tighter, denser—tempering it like steel.
His goal was clear.
Reach Rank 3 before the Academy begins.
While S-Rank cores did not grow faster than A-Rank ones in terms of speed, the quality and power that came with each level were worlds apart. An S-Rank Rank 2 could fight evenly with an A-Rank Rank 3—sometimes even win.
In the original timeline, Ezra had reached the peak of Rank 2 before the academy entrance arc began. This time, he would go further. He would break that limit.
If I reach Rank 3 before Arthur arrives in this world… I'll have more than just a head start.
He exhaled slowly, drawing more mana into himself, deeper into his core.
I'll be unstoppable.
—————-
Night passed.
Ezra didn't train through it.
Even with an S-Rank core, he was still only at Rank 1, and his body required rest. Pushing beyond his limits could do more harm than good—especially with the upcoming battle ahead. If anything, he needed to be at full strength, alert and prepared.
He woke early, around 5 a.m., and made his way to the estate's open training field.
Drawing a wooden sword, he began training against movable practice dummies, relying on the inherited memories of the body's original owner. Though he was new to this world, those memories guided his movements. With each swing and dodge, he grew more comfortable—more natural.
After five hours of intense training, sweat soaked through his shirt, and his stance had improved dramatically. The basic sword technique used by the Celestrian royal family was beginning to feel like his own.
At 10 a.m., he headed to the bath, letting warm water ease his muscles. The maids dressed him afterward in his formal travel attire—dark navy robes lined with silver, the emblem of the royal family etched on the chest.
Then he made his way to the central plaza, where the royal convoy was waiting.
Several luxurious carriages stood in formation, designed in a medieval style, but built with the finest materials. Each bore the Celestrian emblem—a sword piercing through a ring of stars. Only five such carriages existed in the entire kingdom.
Most of the knights had already left for the warp gate just outside the city.
As Ezra arrived, he spotted Valerius, already dressed in his regal attire—sleek black armor trimmed in red. He looked every bit the crown prince, handsome, composed, and radiating command.
Valerius looked over. "Let's go."
They boarded the main carriage together, while Duke William Natra sat in a separate one behind them.
Inside his carriage, William leaned back with a faint smirk.
The time has come… to replace the crown.
He laughed quietly to himself, staring out the window at the passing city.
William Natra didn't hate Marcus Celestrian for being king.
He hated him for marrying the woman William once loved. A woman he had pursued, proposed to, dreamed of—only to lose her to the very man now sitting on the throne.
She was long dead now, the queen taken by illness… but William's hatred never faded.
Marcus took her from me. Now I'll take everything from him. His son, his throne… his legacy.
He had allied with the Phoenix Order, a secret cult working from the shadows. With their help—and with the genius of his daughter Seraphina Natra, a prodigy in alchemy and tactics—they had brewed a Legendary-grade love potion. A concoction powerful enough to sway even a Rank 6 warrior like Valerius.
Seraphina would seduce him.
He would fall.
And once he was under their control, the royal family would begin to rot from within.
Seraphina had even gone so far as to incite the local orc colony into launching a full-scale attack on the southern regions—just to make this "military request" seem believable.
Everything was going according to plan.
⸻
After nearly an hour, the carriages reached a colossal arena-like structure at the edge of the capital.
Ezra stepped out and stared in awe. The warp gate coliseum was enormous. Thick stone walls, magical barriers, and guards in full plate armor lined the perimeter. It was built to hold over 100,000 soldiers—a monument to the kingdom's strength and a relic of its magical past.
As they entered the center platform, Ezra saw thousands of elite knights already gathered in formation. At their head stood a towering figure—Drake Sagnius, captain of the First Knight Division, and a peak Rank 7 powerhouse.
When the royal party approached, every knight stamped their weapons into the ground.
"We greet the Crown Prince—future of the Celestial Kingdom!"
Valerius stepped forward, his voice enhanced by mana.
"Today, we remind the orcs why no one dares raise a blade against the Celestial Kingdom. I won't promise survival. But I promise this: if you give me everything in battle, I'll give you everything in return—honor, wealth, and eternal glory."
A roar of approval echoed from the troops.
Valerius turned to Ezra. "Come. It's time."
Together, they stepped onto the warp platform.
Four ancient mana reactors lit up, controlled by mages who began chanting in synchronization. Glowing blue runes ignited along the ground, forming a complex magical circle beneath their feet.
Ezra's eyes widened.
He'd read about warp gates before, in novels and lore—but now he was standing on one. A blue magical circle formed not just on the platform, but in the air above them, humming with raw energy.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
In moments, light burst around them, engulfing the entire division.
Ezra gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, eyes focused ahead.