Chapter 2: the prince , who vanished

Chapter 2: The Prince Who Vanished

The flames raged.

The once-magnificent palace of the Althion Empire crumbled under the weight of betrayal. Fire licked at the ornate tapestries, turning history to ashes. The scent of burning wood, metal, and flesh thickened the air, suffocating all who remained.

The massacre continued outside—soldiers in black armor flooded the halls, cutting down nobles and servants alike.

But deep within the shadows of the collapsing palace, a lone figure moved unnoticed.

The boy—no, the reborn king—stepped through the destruction with quiet precision. His once-white robes were stained with blood and soot, but his golden eyes gleamed in the darkness, focused and calculating.

I need to escape.

The body he now inhabited was weak, fragile—unworthy of the soul it carried. He could feel the weight of his sealed power pressing against his core, a caged beast yearning to be released. But his body could not yet withstand it. Not in this state.

He needed time.

And time required disappearing.

The Path of Survival

The burning palace stretched endlessly before him, corridors twisting into chaos. The royal family was being slaughtered one by one—their cries of agony a fitting end to a dynasty that had once thought itself untouchable.

The boy smirked.

If only they had known.

This empire had built its foundations on his grave, believing him dead, erased from history. Their rulers had thrived in his absence, their so-called ‘greatest warriors’ had prospered in a world where he no longer existed.

How amusing.

And how pathetic.

The flames roared louder as he moved through the halls. His body ached, his breaths shallow, but he continued forward. He would not die here. Not like this.

Then—voices.

“…Secure the inner chambers. The youngest prince should be here.”

A sharp spike of killing intent filled the air.

The boy stilled, pressing himself into the shadows. His golden eyes flickered as he recognized the voice.

Commander Velka.

A loyal hound of the empire’s enemies. A man who had sworn allegiance to the rising faction that orchestrated this massacre.

A fool who thought himself powerful.

Boots echoed against the marble floor.

“The king, queen, and their heirs are dead,” another soldier reported. “Only the youngest prince remains unaccounted for.”

Velka scoffed. “He was a sickly brat. Even if he survived the fire, he won’t last the night.”

The boy smirked. Oh?

Velka’s arrogance would be his undoing. But now was not the time to entertain vengeance. Not yet.

The boy slipped past the advancing soldiers, moving silently despite the burning wreckage around him. His knowledge of the palace’s hidden pathways was his greatest advantage.

And soon, he reached it—

A secret passage beneath the throne room.

Escape into the Unknown

The hidden tunnel was cold, damp, untouched by the flames above. The scent of earth and age-old dust filled his lungs as he descended into darkness.

He had no torches, no weapons, no supplies—only himself.

But that was enough.

The tunnel stretched for miles, leading beyond the palace grounds, past the city walls, into the wilderness beyond.

As he walked, his mind sharpened. Survival was no longer his goal.

It was reclamation.

This world has forgotten me.

They believe their rule is absolute.

They have no idea what has returned to them.

A shiver of power curled within him. Though the majority of his strength remained locked, he could feel it—waiting, simmering beneath his skin.

With time, he would regain it.

With patience, he would rise again.

And then—

The world would kneel before its forgotten king.

For now, he walked into the unknown, a shadow lost to history.

But soon, the world would remember the name it had buried.

And they would fear it once more.

Somewhere Beyond the Empire…

A storm raged over the distant mountains. The winds howled, trees bending under the force of nature’s wrath.

And within the depths of an ancient forest, a group of figures gathered beneath the darkened sky.

Clad in robes of black and gold, their faces were hidden behind ornate masks, their voices hushed in reverence.

A single figure stood at the center, his presence commanding, eyes gleaming with an unnatural glow.

“…It is as I have foreseen,” the figure spoke, his voice filled with something close to anticipation. “The cycle has begun.”

The others bowed, silent.

“The king has returned,” he murmured. “And soon, the world will tremble once more.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

And far away, walking through the darkness, the boy—the reborn demon king—felt the first stirrings of fate calling to him.

End of Chapter 2.

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