CHAPTER 49: PRINCE CHARMING(NOT REALLY).
"Death is a very real possibility."
The Supreme One's smile didn't waver. "Now, since that's out of the way," he said, "let's get into it."
And just like before, he waved his hand—and the world changed.
John's feet were no longer on solid ground. He was free-falling, plummeting toward a spiraling green vortex that stretched endlessly below him. It was vast. Unfathomable. And yet, for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt no fear.
Around him, the others were falling too, tumbling through an endless expanse of nothing.
[This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,] Echo's voice cut through the wind. [These kinds of wells are rare. Don't waste it.]
John forced his eyes to open against the rushing air. The vortex loomed closer now, its edges churning with greenish bright light.
You don't have to tell me that.
His expression hardened.
Because I won't stop until I have enough power to be free of this nonsense.
With that thought, he plunged into the swirling green depths.
***
Light and shadow twisted around him, pulling him through layers and layers of space. Countless stars blurred past him. Worlds of different sizes flickered in and out of view like dying embers. Time lost meaning to him.
Then, suddenly, it stopped, and John's eyes snapped open.
He was lying on something impossibly soft and warm. The ceiling above him was carved from pale stone, streaks of gold passing through it. Intricate paintings stretched across its surface: gods and heroes locked in eternal struggle, their painted eyes watching from above.
Gilded sconces lined the walls, each holding a flame that burned without smoke. Rich tapestries hung between them, crimson and deep blue, catching the warm candlelight.
Sunlight filtered through tall, arched windows. Dust motes drifted slowly in the golden light, suspended in the stillness.
Different Faces crowded around him. John didn't recognize any of them. Their expressions were a mixture of disappointment, anger, and shock.
Then a woman rushed forward, parting the people surrounding him, her face streaked with tears.
"Oh, my baby," she cried, her hands cupping his cheeks. "You're awake. You're finally awake."
John's mind was currently empty, blank. He didn't have the slightest clue what was happening.
And then—
A flood of memories crashed into him like a tidal wave. They were foreign and strange. But in that moment, they felt like his own—as if he had lived through all of them.
His head pounded. A splitting headache tore through his skull. His vision went blurry.
And John lost consciousness again.
****
When he opened his eyes, the room was quiet.
All the faces that had surrounded him earlier were gone.
All except for one woman.
She sat beside his bed, her head resting on the edge of the bed; her breathing was slow and even. From the looks of it, she had fallen asleep. Her hand was still loosely wrapped around his, as if she had refused to let go even in slumber.
John stared at her, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.
He let out a long, quiet sigh.
"This is fucked up."
He pulled his hand free gently, pressing his palm against his forehead. The memories he'd been bombarded with were settling now, making things a little clearer.
[This is quite a shocker,] Echo said, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement. [You know, you're one lucky bastard, minion.]
John blinked. Then his eyes widened in surprise.
"Echo?" He said. "Oh, thank god. You're here."
[Of course I'm here,] Echo said, his tone dripping with mock grandeur. [How could I ever abandon my only minion?]
"Oh, just shut up, will you?"
[So, what do you think, minion?]
John fell silent.
What do I think?
"Honestly?" he muttered. "I might be screwed. Or I might be blessed. I haven't decided yet."
He went through the memories.
His name was Ethan Stormblessed, Crown Prince of the Crimson Tempest Kingdom. The empire had stood for centuries. It was one of the largest and strongest.
He was the only son of Emperor Emir and Empress Aelswith. His mother adored him to death. She shielded him from every consequence.
And he was a fucking monster.
He treated servants like dirt. He looked down on everyone. He had no friends—only sycophants and enablers. He'd hurt people. Humiliated them. Broken them. And no one could touch him because his mother had made sure of it.
John closed his eyes.
Great. I'm a crown prince. And everyone hates me.
[Cheer up,] Echo said. [At least you are a prince.]
John opened his eyes. "Yeah. Lucky me."
A question formed in John's mind: why was he in bed when he came here, and the answer was just ridiculous.
He'd tripped while training and hit his head.
Ethan had always been clumsy, pampered, useless. This was just embarrassing.
John groaned.
"Of all the bodies I could have ended up in..."
[Are you seriously complaining about being a prince,] Echo said.
"A pathetic prince."
He pushed himself upright, ignoring the dull ache in his skull. The woman beside him moved a little but didn't wake up.
Ethan was eighteen. In this world, that was already late for marriage, but no one wanted to marry him. He was spoiled, cruel, and utterly useless as a ruler.
But now his position was in danger. His half-brothers were already circling him like vultures, waiting for a chance to put him down. And with the empire teetering on the edge of instability, they needed an alliance.
So, his mother saw this opportunity as a way to further cement his position as the crown prince.
That's why he was getting betrothed. In three days, no less.
She was younger than him by a year or so. A princess from the Darkmire Kingdom—a land of witches and warlocks. A kingdom of equal standing to his own.
Ethan had agreed because his mother practically forced him.
John pressed his palms against his face.
"I need to figure out how to finish this 'trial,'" he muttered.
[Or you could just enjoy being a prince,] Echo said.
John was silent for a moment, then a small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Maybe you're right."
John let the smirk linger for just a moment before it faded. Yeah. This is fine.
He was lost deep in thought when the woman beside him— his mother, Aelswith woke up.
"Ethan?"
Her voice was soft and warm. She immediately reached for his face, cupping his cheeks like he was made of glass. Her eyes glistened.
"Ethan, you're awake. Oh, my baby, you're awake."
John's eye twitched.
Right. I am Ethan.
He forced himself to relax.
From now on, I'm Ethan. Until I finish this trial.
"Mother," he said, his voice filled with care. "I'm okay."
But she wasn't listening to him. Her hands were inspecting his head for any injury. Then she turned her attention towards him.
"Are you sure? You were unconscious for days. I was so worried—let me call the priests. I need to make sure—"
"Mother." John caught her wrist gently. Firmly. "I'm alright. Leave it."
She shook her head, her grip tightening on his arm. "No. I have to be certain. If anything happens to you—"
John met her gaze. Steady. Calm.
"Mother, I feel uncomfortable if they come. Truly. I'm okay. Please believe me."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then slowly, hesitantly, she let go.
"...Alright," she whispered. "If you're sure."
John nodded. But then his stomach let out a low growl.
His mother let out a small, bright laugh.
"Oh, my poor boy. You must be starving." She rose quickly, brushing down her robes. "I'll have the kitchen bring something at once. Stay here. Rest."
She hurried toward the door, pausing only to glance back at him with a soft smile.
"I'm so glad you're awake, Ethan."
Then she was gone.
John slumped back against the pillows.
growl
"At least I hope the food's good."
[I'm sure anything's better than the crap they fed you back there.]
"Hey, it wasn't that bad. You should've seen what they gave us in the beginning."
[Huh. Sounds like those guys are worse than I thought.]