"Good morning, Father," I said, my voice coming out a little too stiff.
The King's expression didn't change. "Good morning, Rian. You are late."
My mind raced. Late for what? The morning meal? I glanced at the sun streaming through the windows. It was well past dawn. I had slept in. A prince's life, it seemed, was not one of sleeping in.
"Forgive me, Father. I... had a late night," I said, hoping my vague excuse would be enough. I mentally cringed at the lie. My "late night" had been a traumatic death and a cosmic transfer of my soul.
The King's eyes narrowed, but the Queen smiled warmly. "He was with his friends, my love. It is good for a young man to enjoy his youth."
I shot her a grateful look, a silent thank you. She was my lifeline. The Queen was my ally. I took my seat beside her, and the maids began to serve the food. I had no idea what any of it was, and I had to play it cool. I watched the others, discreetly, and followed their lead. I tore off a piece of bread, dipping it into a bowl of what looked like stew.
"Rian," the King said, his voice a low rumble. "I trust you have been keeping up with your sword practice."
My hand froze, a piece of bread halfway to my mouth. Sword practice? I didn't even know how to hold a sword. My only experience with a sword was from video games. This was it. The moment of truth.
"Of course, Father," I lied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I was just... feeling a bit sore this morning."
The King grunted. "Good. The tournament approaches, and I expect you to perform with honor. The honor of the kingdom rests on your shoulders."
The tournament. A tournament where I would have to fight with a sword. My heart sank. This was so much worse than I could have ever imagined. I was not just a prince; I was a warrior prince, expected to uphold the honor of a kingdom in a sword-fighting tournament. I was screwed.
I looked down at my plate, my appetite gone. This was not a dream. This was my new reality, a nightmare of mistaken identity and expectations I could never live up to. I had to learn how to be a prince, a warrior, and a man I was not. My old life was gone, and I had to survive this new one. And my first lesson was going to be learning how to swing a sword without accidentally beheading myself. The future of the kingdom, it seemed, rested on my very clumsy shoulders.
The rest of the meal passed in a blur of clinking silverware and forced smiles. I nodded along to conversations about grain harvests and trade routes, topics that were utterly foreign to me. All I could think about was the tournament and the very real possibility of me making a fool of myself, or worse, getting seriously hurt. The King's sharp blue eyes seemed to follow my every move, and I felt a constant pressure to behave as Rian would have. I was an actor on a stage, and the audience was my new family.
Finally, the meal concluded, and the King rose from the table. "Rian, I'll see you in the training yard in an hour. We will test your reflexes."
My stomach clenched. "Yes, Father," I said, trying to sound confident. He gave me a final, hard look before walking out of the hall, the Queen and my supposed sister following him. I was left alone at the massive table, the silence in the room now deafening.
Freckles and Blonde, whose names I still didn't know, materialized instantly to clear the table. I stood up, my legs feeling a little wobbly. I had an hour. An hour to figure out how to hold a sword. This was impossible. I needed to do something, anything, to prepare.
"Is there a library here?" I asked Freckles, trying to keep my voice casual.
She curtsied. "Yes, Your Highness. Down the east corridor, second door on the left."
I nodded, grateful for the information. A library. A place with books. Books could tell me things. They could tell me about this world, about this kingdom, about this Rian I was supposed to be. I started walking, but a strange sensation made me stop. A low hum, a vibration that seemed to be coming from inside my own body. It wasn't pain, exactly. It was more like an energy, a kind of static electricity building up just beneath my skin.
As I walked down the long corridor, the hum grew stronger. It felt like something was waking up inside of me. When I reached the library door, I placed my hand on the cool metal handle, and the energy surged. A faint, almost imperceptible silver light shimmered around my hand for a split second, then vanished. The humming stopped, replaced by a profound silence inside me.
I pulled open the heavy door and stepped inside. The library was magnificent. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with leather-bound books, and the air smelled of parchment and aged wood. I ran my hand over the spine of a book, a title I couldn't read in a script I didn't recognize. The language was different. All of the books were. I felt a wave of despair wash over me. I couldn't even read.
I sank into a chair, the full weight of my situation crashing down on me. I couldn't read the books, I couldn't wield a sword, and I had a strange, unexplainable energy humming beneath my skin.
As I sat there, defeated, I noticed a book lying on a small side table, open to a page with a series of intricate symbols. I reached out and touched one of the symbols, a spiral with three dots. As my finger made contact, the symbol pulsed with a soft, blue light. The humming returned, stronger than before, and the symbol seemed to shimmer, as if it were alive. A series of images, concepts, and a language I hadn't known before flooded into my mind. It wasn't just words; it was the meaning behind the words. It was an understanding of a concept, a principle.
This was not a book of words. It was a grimoire, a book of magic. The symbol was for something called **"Aetheric Projection"**. The thought, the concept, of shooting a bolt of pure energy from my hand. I could feel the energy building up in my palm, a warm, tingling sensation. It felt real. It felt… possible.
My heart pounded with a mix of terror and exhilaration. I was in an isekai novel, and I had just discovered a magic system. This wasn't some fantasy I was reading; this was my new reality. The energy wasn't a fluke; it was a part of me, a latent power that had been awakened. And this book, this grimoire, was the key to unlocking it.
I quickly looked around the empty library, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow. No one was here. I was alone. This was a secret, a profound one. This power was a gift, a tool, but it was also a burden. This world, this kingdom, the expectations of the King… they were all about the sword. About physical prowess. About being a warrior prince. Magic seemed to be a hidden art, something not spoken of, especially in the context of the training yard.
I closed the grimoire, the blue light fading as I did. The humming inside me died down to a faint whisper, a background noise that I was starting to get used to. I hid the book under my tunic, the heavy leather cover pressing against my chest like a secret.
I had to be careful. I had to learn how to use this power without anyone knowing. It was my secret weapon, my ace in the hole, the only thing that could possibly save me from this mess. I had an hour. An hour to figure out how to hold a sword and to figure out the basics of a magic system that had just become my new reality. The tournament was a challenge, but with this, with this gift of magic, maybe… maybe I could survive. Maybe I could even thrive. My mind, once a world of code and algorithms, was now a world of magic, secrets, and the very real possibility of a glowing hand. I had to be a warrior prince, but I was also something else entirely. I was a mage. And no one, not even the King, could ever know.