Kall's hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open. The faint creak of the hinge sounded like a thunderclap in the silence. He peeked through the gap—two men stood beside the First Prince's bed. Their presence was wrong, unnatural. The faint glint of metal in their hands sent a jolt through his chest.
Before he could even process what he was seeing, a sharp, tearing pain erupted in his back. It felt like fire had exploded inside his spine.
His breath caught.
Then the dizziness came—fast and merciless.
A hot copper taste filled his mouth, and when he coughed, thick red blood splattered onto the polished floor.
His legs buckled. The room swam in his vision, the figures blurring into smudges of darkness. The pain began to fade, not because it was gone, but because the cold numbness was spreading too quickly.
I know this feeling…
His mind flashed to his final moments on Earth—the same weakness in his limbs, the same hollow cold closing in. The inevitability of death wrapped around him like a suffocating shroud.
His eyelids grew heavier.
"…I… a… m… s… o… r… r…" His voice was a faint whisper, barely audible over the pounding in his ears.
Then blackness took him.
---
Elsewhere in the palace, King Bera and Guard Jack were sprinting through the royal corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone. The closer they got to the First Prince's chambers, the more the air seemed to thicken with an unspoken dread.
When they rounded the last corner, they saw him—one of the palace guards—standing before the door, a sword in his hand, the blade dripping fresh blood.
Then, from within the room, Kall's body tumbled limply to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. His face was pale, his eyes shut, his breathing still.
Jack's mind blanked. He couldn't understand what he was seeing. But King Bera's expression changed instantly—his jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened with both rage and clarity.
"Traitor," he muttered.
In one fluid motion, the king drew his Royal Beast Sword and hurled it like a spear. The golden blade cut through the air without a sound.
---
Kall felt as though he were drifting in an endless ocean. His body was weightless, untethered from pain. When he opened his eyes, the world around him was not the palace—it was a boundless, white space, pure and endless in all directions.
A voice spoke, calm and mechanical:
"Start Analysis… Analysis Complete."
"Am I… dead?" Kall muttered, his voice echoing faintly. "Is this… the real afterlife?"
"Kall Roy, you have not died. This is a small examination of your skill."
"My… skill? What skill?"
"Body Revolution."
A glowing panel of words appeared in front of him.
(Do you wish to continue the examination?)
Kall frowned. "…What is the exam? Will I have to stay here for long?"
"Yes. Until the examination is complete. This could take anywhere from three years… to one hundred years."
His eyes widened. "No. Then I'm not doing it now."
"Understood. Then your body will regenerate at a slow speed."
"That's fine… Good bye."
"Good luck, Kall."
His eyelids grew heavy again, and the white world faded away.
---
In the real world, the Royal Beast Sword struck the traitorous guard in the neck with the speed of lightning, severing his head in a clean, soundless cut. The body crumpled, the blood spreading dark across the marble.
King Bera didn't pause to watch it fall. He charged through the door into the First Prince's room, controlling his sword with a flick of his wrist so it hovered in the air beside him.
Inside, the First Prince lay motionless on the bed—lifeless, the sheets stained with crimson.
A figure was sprinting toward the window, cloak whipping behind him.
"Too late," Bera muttered, his teeth clenched. His sword flashed forward, slicing through the man's legs in a single strike.
The intruder collapsed with a cry of pain, his weapon clattering to the ground.
"Jack!" the king barked.
"Yes, my lord!"
"Capture him. Alive."
Jack obeyed instantly, binding the man's hands in steel shackles.
King Bera's chest tightened as his gaze shifted between the two princes—one dead, one lying in a pool of his own blood. His thoughts swirled. Why? Who would…?
"Why… who?" he whispered. "The First Prince, yes—he's a genius, a threat to many. But the Fourth Prince? Why him?"
"My king," Jack said suddenly, "the Fourth Prince is not dead yet."
Bera's eyes widened. "What…? Alert the palace guards. And send for an alchemist."
"As you command."
The king knelt briefly beside Kall's still body. "It seems," he said quietly, "you have quite a bit of luck to survive, boy."
---
Half an hour later, a middle-aged man in green robes arrived—the royal alchemist, Jos. His satchel clinked with vials and herbs as he entered Kall's chambers.
Kneeling beside the bed, Jos pressed two fingers to Kall's neck, feeling for a pulse. His brows rose slightly. "Interesting. The Fourth Prince is… trying to live. Remarkable willpower for one so young."
"Remarkable?" King Bera asked.
Jos hesitated, then looked up. "My king… it appears the prince possesses a monster's skill."
The king frowned. "Impossible. The black stone clearly stated he had no ability, no power, no stamina, no bloodline, and no skills. And yet, according to his room guard, he's already at the Fifth Beginning Stage… How could he have a monster's skill?"
"If you doubt me, examine him yourself later," Jos replied calmly. "But I have seen this before. I once studied a rainbow slime—it had the same ability as the Fourth Prince. We called it Body Regenerate. With this skill, they feel no pain. They can only be killed by destroying their core. In the prince's case, I suspect that core would be his soul."
Bera's gaze sharpened. "And if you give him medicine?"
"It will… slow things down, actually. Without it, he will recover naturally in two to three weeks."
"Give him the medicine anyway," the king ordered.
Jos paused, then bowed. "…As you wish, my lord."
---
The next morning, just as the first light touched the palace walls, a messenger arrived with urgent news. He carried a sealed letter bearing the mark of the neighboring kingdom, Naga.
When King Bera broke the wax seal and read the contents, his expression darkened.
The letter was brief and formal: a postponement of the marriage between Princess Hema of Naga… and Prince Kall of Strabila.