The prince's memories flickered again: feasts that never ended, servants cowering from tantrums, a life of wasted privilege. Those eyes held a fire that the old me had never kindled. Maybe I could, but it would have to wait until I lose this weight and become healthier. Now I wanted to check this meditation White mentioned.
I dragged myself to the nearest chair, a sturdy oak thing, and lowered my bulk onto it. The wood groaned in protest, legs creaking beneath me. I sighed, the frustration burning hotter than the stab wound still throbbing in my chest, and closed my eyes. Focus. Breathe in, breathe out, find the centre.
At first, there was nothing but the distant crackle of the fireplace and my own laboured breathing. Then something tugged, gentle at first, then insistent, pulling my awareness inward, deeper, until the world fell away. My eyes snapped open, only to be shocked. I wasn't in the inn anymore.
A vast, ruined landscape stretched endlessly in every direction: cracked earth choked with dead vines, crumbling buildings half-buried in dust. Fog clung low to the ground, thick and cold, swallowing distant shapes into hazy oblivion. The sky above was a dull grey, no sun, no stars, just dim, lifeless light.
The air felt heavy, stagnant, like the whole place had been forgotten. It mirrored the body I now inhabited perfectly: neglected, decaying, full of wasted potential. I recoiled instinctively, a chill crawling up my spine. This was my Innerworld? Then, through the haze, I spotted it, a lone stone door standing impossibly upright amid the ruins.
Tall and ornate, half-covered in moss and cracks, it looked ancient yet unbroken, the only thing here that still held any dignity. Something about it called to me. I pushed myself up, my astral form feeling strangely light compared to the real world, and approached slowly. As I drew nearer, a certainty gripped me: opening this door would unleash a wave of pain.
In that moment, I knew the door belonged to a life I no longer lived. With a single wave of my hand, I dismissed it. The door vanished, dissolving into thin air as though it had never been there at all. I turned, and my breath caught. In front of me stretched an enormous pool, vast as an Olympic swimming pool yet impossibly deep.
No matter how hard I stared, it swallowed every trace of light; all I could see below was pure, endless black. ''Is this the Mana Well?'' I murmured, staring at the shimmering pool.
I was fairly sure it was. The strange pulling sensation made it feel as though the pool were gently urging me to give something back, as if it were alive in its own quiet way. Standing there, I let my thoughts drift and began sorting through the lazy prince's scattered memories, trying to piece together how magic worked in this world.
Magic was born of cultivation, a slow refinement of the body, the soul, and the Mana Core itself. Progress was measured in stages known as Circles. Before even touching the First Circle, a mage had to Mana Forge, tempering their body so it could withstand the mana that would soon surge through it.
If I recall correctly, they could safely begin walking the path. Each Circle was further divided into Low and High tiers, a system designed to strengthen one's foundation rather than rush growth and risk collapse. As a mage advanced, the pathways within their body widened and hardened.
I'm glad for these memories; I'd be doomed without them.
Mana flowed more freely, spells became sharper and faster, and the strain of casting diminished. Most importantly, the core itself expanded. A First Circle mage might burn themselves out after a few dozen spells, while someone at the Third Circle could sustain complex workings for hours on end.
On Aldoria, most people never rose beyond the First or Second Circle. Their magic was little more than a spark, useful for minor conveniences and nothing more. Only a rare few, blessed with talent, resources, and discipline, climbed higher, where magic began to resemble something almost godlike.
There was more to it, I was sure, layers I hadn't uncovered yet. For now, this understanding was enough. I'd learn the rest in time. As the thought settled, I became aware of the darkness pressing in around the edges of my inner world. It felt vast. Watching. A chill ran down my spine as I swallowed hard.
''What the hell is out there?'' I muttered.
After that, I ignored the strange feeling and decided to try meditating to absorb some more mana, but the history of this body drew my attention. I had been a member of the Verona Family, rulers of the largest kingdom on the Aldoria Continent. My new father wielded power with an iron fist, a Tenth Circle Mage adept in Fire, Water, and Earth magic.
I learned that the old Arthur had once idolised his father, but the older man despised me, blaming me for humiliating the family through my behaviour. I couldn't deny they were right. Then my mind revealed my new mother, Seraphina Verona, the second queen, who appeared to be in her late forties, yet possessed the same striking blue eyes as mine.
Despite being the same age as King Ragnar, she looked barely in her late twenties, a revelation that shook me to my core, thanks to magic that made people from this world appear younger despite being mature women. Then there was my other mother, Bella, the kingdom's first queen.
As for my new siblings: Crown Prince Rodric Verona, Draven, the Second Prince. Marcus, the Fourth Prince, and, lastly, Rio, the Fifth Prince, had only two sisters: the First Princess, Sarah, and the Second Princess, Sasha. Marcus and Sasha were my blood siblings; the others were Bella's children.
None of them seemed to like me. Honestly, I couldn't blame anyone because it made me want to better myself. I had to accept that this was my new life, but at least there is magic. Afterwards, I ignored everything for a moment, then settled next to my Mana Well and began to meditate.
I could feel the mana flowing into me, then cascading into the enormous void that was devouring the energy. Almost immediately, a jolt surged through my body, wrenching me back to the waking world. Yet even as I returned, the sensations lingered; I could still feel myself as if in the inner world.
Mana streamed into my well, tugging at my body, urging me toward the First Circle. I let myself go, surrendering to the flow. Mana poured into me in torrents, hotter and heavier than I had ever felt. Each surge carried flashes of memory, fragments of lessons long forgotten, of fights won and lost, of power felt and misused.
The void beneath my Mana Well seemed insatiable, swallowing everything I channelled. I could feel the well expanding, my body straining, trembling under the weight of what I was drawing in. The memories guided me, a map leading my spirit to drink more, to push further, to awaken circles of power I had only glimpsed in dreams.
It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. Hours passed in a haze of flowing mana. I could feel every strand of energy weaving into my being, every fragment of memory guiding me as I fed the well. Slowly, inexorably, I reached the threshold, the First Circle. But nothing happened.
No grand surge of power, no awakening of hidden abilities, no recognition from the currents I had longed to feel. Only the quiet hum of my Mana Core, growing heavier and stronger with each pulse, vibrating deep inside me. It was alive, yes, but hollow. Something essential was missing, a spark I couldn't grasp, a resonance I couldn't summon.
I opened my eyes and stared at the Mana Well. The void beneath it had consumed everything I had poured in, yet it offered no guidance, no reward. My body had changed; my core had grown, and I already felt stronger. A sudden surge of mana ripped through me, an explosion of energy from deep within my core.
My vision flared white, my body convulsed as if every nerve had caught fire. The world tilted violently, and I was thrown into darkness, unable to hold onto anything. When I awoke, the pressure was gone, leaving only a deep, lingering hum in my veins. I blinked, disoriented, and then I saw her.
A petite woman stood over me, her short brown hair styled into a soft bob that framed dark blue eyes filled with annoyance and worry in equal measure. She was gorgeous, with a sharp jawline and big eyes. Her plump red lips were parted, as if she had been about to speak, or was about to insult me.
So beautiful, how could this fool treat her badly?
I was caught in the intensity of her gaze, as though she already knew more about me than I did myself. ''You… You're awake,'' she said, confused, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and annoyance. ''I wasn't sure you would be.''
The room felt unreal, alive with a quiet energy. I could feel it in the air, radiating from my body, a subtle pull that resonated with the lingering hum of my Mana Core. I pushed myself up, and she instinctively stepped back, her eyes widening with worry. A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I knew exactly who she was.
Lily Ashcroft, the forty-one-year-old, third daughter of a fallen Count who had once earned my father's displeasure.
My eyes widened in shock. She doesn't look forty-one, but that doesn't bother me.
I shook my head, remembering that she had been forced to work as a palace maid, and that when the king assigned her to me, it was meant as a punishment. A cruel joke, really. And I had made that even worse for the older woman. Every day, I had vented my anger on her, hurling insults and throwing her into my wrath whenever my temper flared.
Now, seeing her expression, I felt that guilt sharpen like a blade. I had treated her terribly. And in this quiet, charged moment, her silence made me feel even smaller. I sighed. ''Is everything okay? Are we still at that Riverrun tavern?''
Lily looked shocked but quickly nodded. ''Yes, My Prince. Lord Garrick believes you should spend time here to rest.''
''Where is he now?''
''Checking on the guards and Legionnaires,'' she replied, calming down as there wasn't an outburst like she was used to, but I noticed there was something guarded about her. ''Loads of people have entered town since the attack; they're getting paranoid with this many travellers.''
''Usually, the Duchy of Ravenscourt is peaceful and quiet, but seems to be getting more popular of late, and monsters are appearing from the Bleakmarch,'' I said, looking at the nearby window after sitting up.
''It's the Festival of Lights in a year, people love to see it,'' Lily revealed, looking nervous, but I noticed something hidden below that, a flicker of hate she quickly buried. ''Would you like to see them?''
I understand her hatred of me. I'll have to prove that I'm not like that spoilt prick, I mused. Festival of Lights? Sounds intriguing. It would be good to see the world. I know I'm in the Duchy of Ravenscourt, and it's beautiful according to the rumours.
I looked into her deep blue eyes and nodded. ''Yes, that would be nice.''
Her expression shifted rapidly, shock and bewilderment giving way to a nod. For a moment, something stirred inside me, a strange tug I quickly shoved aside. I had work to do, and indulging in unfamiliar feelings would only slow me down. I turned to her, keeping my voice steady. ''Can you get me some tea, please? And tell Garrick to see me.''
Before she could answer, her eyes suddenly widened, and she frowned. I was puzzled until her voice rang out, bothered by my progress. ''You… you finally reached the First Circle! Congratulations, Prince!''
I knew her excitement wasn't genuine, yet something beneath it felt… off. Not false, exactly, just layered. Her voice carried an edge that tugged at my chest, a quiet ache I couldn't quite name. I forced my attention back to the present, shoving the unfamiliar feeling aside. I gave her a small, careful smile.
''Yeah. Finally broke through. Now I need to train to get rid of all this weight,'' I said.
When Lily heard my words, her expression twisted into a sneer before it turned into something else, as if she was looking at a stranger, but didn't say anything. Seconds later, she walked out of the room without saying anything. After she left, I was finally alone. I sank onto my bed, mind already racing, planning a training regimen to shed this weight and harness whatever power I now had.
My fingers traced the edge of the blanket as I stared out the window, watching the world move beyond my chamber. Soldiers marched past, their grey armour gleaming with blue trim, catching the sunlight with every step. At first, I assumed they were Legionnaires or Royal Guards, but a closer look told me otherwise.
These were the town guard of the Western Duke, charged with defending Riverrun from the chaos that brewed beyond its walls. Their movements were disciplined and vigilant, each step a silent testament to their duty and training.
Verona maintains thirty-four of its own legions, not unlike Rome's, I mused, the thought idly circling my mind.