—HUUUUM—
The Grand Hall of the Valerian Palace breathed power.
Pillars of star-iron rose like petrified world-trees, their surfaces carved with ancient runes that pulsed softly, restrained only by imperial will. Chandeliers forged from the bones of slain primordial beasts hung overhead, each socket cradling a fist-sized spirit stone that flooded the hall with ethereal gold.
Hundreds stood in perfect formation.
Nobles in flowing silk.
Generals in ceremonial armor.
Sect elders with disciples aligned behind them like shadows.
All of them waiting.
Waiting for something that had never happened before.
The Crown Prince had declined morning court.
—WHISPER—WHISPER—
"Where is His Highness?"
"Surely he is merely delayed…"
"This is unprecedented. The Northern envoys—"
At the far end of the hall, atop the elevated dais, the imperial throne loomed—empty.
Before it sat the Emperor.
His expression was calm, carved from stone by centuries of rule. Yet those perceptive enough noticed the faint tension around his eyes.
And below the dais—
Lucien Valerian stood.
Not beside the throne.
Not above the court.
But at the base of the steps.
He wore no imperial black-and-gold. Only simple dark robes, the kind any high-ranking cultivator might wear. His hair fell loose over his shoulders, unbound, unadorned.
Relaxed.
Almost casual.
Only Elara, standing three paces behind him, noticed the truth.
The way his fingers occasionally brushed the air.
As though tracing invisible threads.
—BOOOOM—
The great doors slammed open.
A cold wind swept through the hall.
The Northern Tribe envoys entered.
They were raw contrast to imperial refinement—fur-lined cloaks over hardened leather, weapons worn openly where palace law demanded disarmament.
And at their head—
A young man who seized every gaze.
Broad shoulders.
Sun-darkened skin.
Black hair bound in a warrior's tail.
Eyes like chipped obsidian—unyielding, unafraid.
Kael Frostborn.
The Protagonist.
Lucien remembered this moment vividly.
In his first life, he had risen in contempt, voice dripping with cultivated cruelty as he mocked the "barbarian" before ordering him to kneel.
Kael had refused.
The spark that ignited the inferno.
In his second life, Lucien had tried restraint—polite words, veiled barbs.
The script had adapted.
The outcome had not.
But this—
This was the third life.
And the script was already bleeding.
Kael's gaze swept the hall, pausing on the empty throne before settling on Lucien.
No recognition.
Why would there be?
Yet—
—DING—
A fractured system screen flickered at the edge of Lucien's vision.
[Plot Event Detected: First Encounter with Protagonist]
Expected Action: Public Humiliation
Current Deviation: 100%
Beneath it—
handwritten text, frantic and jagged.
wait what is he doing down there?? this isn't how it's supposed to go!!
The crack widened.
maybe have the prince still be arrogant but in a different way?
no no the readers need to hate him early
but he's not doing anything??
Lucien smiled.
Not the cold smile of a tyrant.
But something warmer.
Almost… welcoming.
He stepped forward.
—THUD—
The entire hall fell silent.
"Cousins from the North," Lucien said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the vast chamber.
"The Valerian Empire welcomes you."
—GASP—
This was wrong.
Crown Princes did not speak to tribal envoys like this.
They spoke down.
Kael studied him for a long heartbeat—then inclined his head.
"Crown Prince Lucien. The Frostborn Clan brings tribute and greetings from the Eternal Ice Fields."
Behind him, the envoys shifted uneasily.
This was too polite.
Lucien gestured to the center of the hall, where a low table awaited.
"Please. Present your offerings. The court is eager to witness the wonders of the North."
Crates were opened.
Pelts from legendary beasts.
Ingots of refined frost-steel.
Vials of spirit liquid harvested from thousand-year glaciers.
Each announced with ceremony.
And Lucien watched.
Not with disdain—
but genuine interest.
When Kael himself presented the final item—a crystal pulsing with pure glacial essence—Lucien stepped closer.
"Exquisite," he murmured.
"The purity is remarkable. Your clan's refinement techniques have improved."
Kael blinked.
This was not the monster he had been warned about.
This was not the tyrant of imperial rumor.
—ALERT—
[System Notice: Protagonist Favorability Confusion Detected]
Plot Armor Engaging...
Attempting Course Correction
THIS ISN'T RIGHT. He's supposed to insult the crystal! Call it worthless! Something!!!
A thick, insistent thread appeared—reaching toward Kael's will.
Lucien pinched it between unseen fingers.
—SNAP—
Kael froze.
For a heartbeat, his eyes glazed—then cleared.
"…Your Highness is knowledgeable," he said slowly, the words emerging as if forced into a new path.
The hall was reeling.
Nobles stared.
Elders frowned.
Elara's hand rested lightly on her sword.
She recognized that expression on Lucien's face.
He had practiced it once—years ago.
He had never mastered it.
Until now.
Protocol demanded withdrawal.
Instead, Lucien spoke again.
"Kael Frostborn."
The name echoed.
"Your spear skills are renowned even here. Would you honor me with a friendly exchange?"
Not prince to envoy.
But cultivator to cultivator.
—UPROAR—
This was madness.
The Crown Prince—Heavenly Sovereign realm—challenging a warrior barely Earth Saint?
Kael's eyes sharpened despite himself.
"I would be honored."
[Critical Plot Deviation Detected]
Emergency Correction Attempted...
Error: Correction Thread Severed
WHAT IS HAPPENING I DIDN'T WRITE ANY OF THIS
Lucien turned to the Emperor.
"Father. Might we use the eastern training grounds?"
Silence.
Then—
"Granted."
The word struck like a gavel.
As they departed, Lucien passed Elara.
"Prepare tea afterward," he murmured. "The good kind."
"The… Dragon Heart blend?"
He nodded.
The one he had never shared.
Sunlight bathed the eastern training grounds—stone scarred by generations of battle.
Lucien walked beside Kael.
"You carry an interesting aura," he said lightly.
"Touched by great fortune."
Kael chuckled. "Some call it luck. Others destiny."
"Destiny," Lucien echoed. "Do you believe your path is written?"
Kael considered.
"I believe a man forges his own."
Lucien smiled.
"Good."
He turned fully, rolling his shoulders once.
"Then let's see what path you forge today."
—CRACK—
The system shattered further.
[WARNING: Complete Plot Collapse Imminent]
Author Panic Level: CRITICAL
Somewhere beyond reality, frantic hands scrambled to regain control.
But here—
On sun-warmed stone—
Two men faced each other.
One destined to kill the other.
The other determined to break destiny itself.
And for the first time in three lifetimes—
Lucien Valerian felt truly alive.