Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

"Ah, it seems my life could be nothing more than a cruel joke in the end" Aric sighed bitterly.

Blood had soaked the earth beneath his feet.

The scent of metal filled the air, and the sound of clashing steel mixed with screams of terror from a dying man and bravery from one about to.

The fertile ground became a muddy graveyard for fallen soldiers, every crimson puddle filled with the blood of a man who fought and died for a cause they barely understood.

Well, it was fitting really, as the Northrenders often say: a man’s worth can only be decided in blood and ash.

So what were these men, their lives, worth?

Death, ever the patient mistress, claimed man after man as it became painfully clear to each Valerian soldier that they would all inevitably die here.

Truthfully, maybe the outcome was to be expected; it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say not a single person believed they could be led to victory with such a commander.

"My prince, we won’t hold much longer." One of the Valerian soldiers stumbled to Aric, his grip on his sword trembling and his face made pale with fear.

The young man didn’t need to say it; even the blind could see the situation they were in. The enemy had surrounded them on all sides, pushing further into their ranks with every slaughtered man.

And at the middle of this disaster of a march, at the very center of the bloodshed, Prince Aric Valerian stood. At his side, the tattered banners of the Valerian Empire fluttered weakly in the wind, its colors dulled with the drying stains of blood.

Aric stood there, an ill fated excuse of a Royal. He had been called a disappointment all his life, and it seemed there was no better proof of their claims than today.

His men lay dead or dying around him, the soldiers who had been made to swear fealty to him, who had followed him into this cursed battle, were now nothing more than corpses littering the battlefield, while the enemy stayed relentless and merciless in their slaughter.

Most would think he had failed as a commander, as a prince… as a man.

Most, however, were ignorant of the truth.

It wasn’t the enemy that had led Aric to this fate, no, there was something far more sinister beneath the charade of an unlucky battle.

As the distant rumble of war thunder rolled across the battlefield, Aric’s thoughts were consumed by a single crushing realization: he had been betrayed.

The first hint had come in the form of the missing reinforcements. Aric had waited, desperately, for the troops he was promised would flank the enemy—an elite force that had been led by his elder brother: Crown Prince Valen Valerian.

These reinforcements never came.

Hours had passed since their planned arrival, and it was already painfully clear that they were on their own.

’How could I be so foolish?’

Aric remembered the conversation before he had gone to battle—the cold, dismissive way Valen had spoken to him, the sneer of his other brothers, and the hollow assurance from the imperial court.

Maybe it was foolishness derived from their sudden acceptance that made him unable to see it from the start, but it was clear now.

They had sent him here to die.

He was, and always had been, a disposable pawn in their game for power, and even after recovering from decades of illness and reaching the level he’s currently at, he was still nothing more than a dog who barked and bit at the slightest flash of bone.

It made sense now; he and his company were simply a decoy to draw the enemy’s full strength while Valen led an army to strike elsewhere, securing the victory that would further cement his claim to the throne.

The final and clearest proof of this betrayal came when Aric saw the flash of a banner on the horizon—the Duke’s banner, retreating without even a single arrow loosed in his defense.

Aric raised his sword to glance at it, its steel chipped and weak, and a bitter, scornful smile twisted his bloodied lips.

How delusional he had been, clinging to the hope that he could finally prove his worth, that he could be anything more than just the weak, forgotten prince.

’What useless thinking.’

They had never intended to let him rise; even after he had overcome his illness, all he was to them was a tool, and now that his usefulness had ended, they discarded him without a second thought.

As the last of his men were butchered and the enemy’s forces closed in, Aric felt a strange calm settle over him.

The rage that had burned so hotly in his chest slowly began to fade, replaced by a cold, hard acceptance.

He had faltered for the last five years, but he always knew from the start: this was his fate, a life of disdain, one that would inevitably end in a death soon to be forgotten.

"The forgotten prince... has that title ever been more fitting than now?" Aric muttered bitterly.

He then noticed, all of his soldiers were dead, a march of a thousand men, mages, and martial artists alike were now nothing more than casualties of battle.

But as he watched the dark figures of the enemy empire approach him, their weapons dripping crimson, and their mana flaring brightly, something inside the forgotten prince refused to die quietly.

He knew it was a useless sentiment, but if he were to meet his end, he would face it with eyes open and a resolve unbroken.

The first enemy soldier reached him, a towering brute with his weapon ablaze with flame magic.

He held a wicked grin, eager to claim the life of a Valerian prince. What glory it was, far less than if it were his brother’s, but significant regardless.

Aric met the brute’s gaze, unflinching, and raised his sword for one last strike. It was a hopeless act, one more symbolic than anything else—a final rebellious gesture against a world that had never wanted him.

His sword clashed with the enemy’s blade and was cleaved through with ease, soon meeting the flesh of the forgotten prince, and in that moment, Aric felt something strange.

It wasn’t the cold touch of death, no, time seemed to slow, and the world around him faded, replaced by a suffocating darkness.

A faint light then flickered before his eyes and with it came a voice—cold, emotionless, and utterly foreign.

[ Do you wish to change your fate? ]

[ For revenge? ]

[ To conquer everything? ]

For a brief moment, Aric hesitated. What was this? A trick? Mockery of some god? But as the darkness began to close in, the alternative option became clear. He could accept this miserable end, or he could grasp at this last, impossible chance.

His lips curved in a final, defiant smile.

"Yes."

And with that, everything went black.

Then a screen materialized in the darkness.

[ INITIALIZING REBIRTH SYSTEM ]