Death, Damien had learned, was surprisingly bureaucratic.
The knife sliding between his ribs in that corporate boardroom twenty-three years ago had been swift, professional, even. A courtesy from the very executives whose corruption he'd spent months documenting. But dying? That had taken forever. Paperwork with cosmic entities, waiting rooms that stretched across dimensions, and finally, the most insulting question of all:
"Would you like to reincarnate with your memories intact? Warning: Previous personality traits and moral flexibility may carry over."
He'd almost laughed. Moral flexibility. As if morality had ever been more than a luxury he couldn't afford.
Now, standing in the crumbling tower that had once been the pride of House Corvus, Damien Aurelius Corvus, third son, family disgrace, and apparently the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, stared at the eviction notice in his hands and smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
"Young Master," wheezed Garrett, the ancient steward who'd served the Corvus family for forty years and had somehow remained loyal even as their fortunes crumbled. "Perhaps we should consider Lord Blackwood's offer. Fifty gold for the estate is... generous, given our circumstances."
Generous. Damien's silver eyes traced the elegant script of the document, noting the specific phrasing, the deliberate legal gaps, the careful way it was worded to seem like charity while being nothing more than theft. In his previous life, he'd have admired the craftsmanship of such bureaucratic manipulation.
"Garrett," he said softly, his voice carrying the cultured accent of nobility wrapped around something far darker. "Do you know what Lord Blackwood's estate is actually worth?"
The old man's rheumy eyes blinked in confusion. "I... young master, I'm not certain..."
"Twelve thousand gold. Conservative estimate." Damien set the paper down with deliberate care, each movement precise. "The mineral rights alone are worth triple what he's offering for our entire holdings. The man isn't being generous, Garrett. He's performing surgery with a rusty blade."
For twenty-three years in this world, Damien had played the role of the disappointment. The third son with no magical talent, no political acumen, no head for business. A convenient excuse for why House Corvus had fallen so far from grace. His father had believed it. His brothers had believed it.
The entire kingdom had believed it.
They'd been spectacularly wrong.
DING
The sound rang inside his skull like a cathedral bell, accompanied by words that materialized in his vision like ethereal fire:
[DOMINION PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
[ANALYZING HOST COMPATIBILITY...]
[ANALYSIS COMPLETE]
[PERFECT MATCH DETECTED: STRATEGIC MANIPULATOR CLASS]
[WELCOME TO YOUR SECOND CHANCE, DAMIEN CORVUS]
Damien's expression didn't change, but something cold and pleased stirred in his chest. Finally. He'd wondered when this world's particular brand of cosmic intervention would kick in. Every fantasy realm had its systems, its divine interventions, its ways of stacking the deck. He'd simply been patient enough to wait for his turn.
[INITIAL ASSESSMENT:
- Current Influence Level: 0.2% (Regional)
- Available Assets: Minimal
- Reputation: "Harmless Failure"
- Threat Level: Negligible
- Potential: UNLIMITED]
[FIRST QUEST AVAILABLE: RECLAIM YOUR BIRTHRIGHT]
[Objective: Prevent the sale of Corvus Estate through any means necessary]
[Reward: Basic Manipulation Skills, 100 Influence Points]
[Time Limit: 72 Hours]
[Failure Consequence: Permanent loss of family lands and 50% reduction in future Influence gain]
"Young Master?" Garrett's concerned voice broke through his system interface contemplation. "You've gone quite pale. Perhaps you should sit..."
"No need." Damien's smile returned, and this time it carried genuine warmth. Poor Garrett. Loyal, honest, completely unprepared for what was about to happen. "Actually, I've just had a rather illuminating realization."
He moved to the great windows that overlooked the Corvus lands, rolling hills dotted with tenant farms, a river that had powered mills for generations, forests that held timber rights worth a fortune. All of it about to be sold for pocket change to a man who'd been systematically destroying House Corvus for the better part of a decade.
"Garrett, send word to Lord Blackwood. Tell him I accept his invitation to dinner tomorrow evening."
The steward's face brightened with relief. "Oh, wonderful! I knew you'd see reason, young master. Lord Blackwood is a fair man, and once the papers are signed..."
"I didn't say I was accepting his offer." Damien's reflection in the window showed him a face that belonged to this world, sharp cheekbones, aristocratic features, the kind of ethereal beauty that made people underestimate the mind behind it. But the eyes were his own. Silver, calculating, and utterly without mercy. "I said I was accepting his dinner invitation. There's a rather significant difference."
He could already see it unfolding in his mind. The dinner. The conversation. The careful words that would make Blackwood reveal more than he intended. The web of connections and obligations that had allowed a minor lord to systematically acquire the assets of ancient noble houses.
In his previous life, Damien had brought down corporations with nothing more than leaked emails and strategic timing. Lord Blackwood might think himself a predator, but he was about to learn the difference between a scavenger and an apex hunter.
[ANALYZING HOST PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE...]
[CONFIRMED: STRATEGIC SOCIOPATHY DETECTED]
[WARNING: HOST SHOWS MINIMAL EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT TO OTHERS]
[RECOMMENDATION: MONITOR FOR COMPLETE MORAL DEGRADATION]
Damien nearly laughed out loud. Moral degradation. The system clearly hadn't read his file thoroughly. You couldn't degrade something that had been surgically removed twenty-three years ago in a corporate boardroom that smelled of leather and betrayal.
Though... his gaze fell on Garrett, who was practically vibrating with nervous energy, desperate to believe his young master had finally found wisdom. There were still a few people in this world he'd prefer not to see hurt. A weakness, perhaps, but one he could afford. For now.
"Garrett, there's something else I need you to do." He turned from the window, and his expression was perfectly calibrated, just enough determination to seem resolute, just enough vulnerability to seem human. "I need you to compile a list of every debt House Corvus has outstanding, every contract we've signed in the past five years, and every piece of correspondence we've had with Lord Blackwood."
"Young master, surely that's not necessary if we're selling..."
"I'm not selling anything." The words came out with quiet finality. "House Corvus has been on its knees for far too long. It's time we remembered how to stand."
The old steward stared at him, and for a moment, Damien saw something that might have been hope flicker in those ancient eyes. "You... you truly mean to fight for the estate?"
"Fight?" Damien moved to his father's old desk, running his fingers over the carved Corvus family crest, a raven with outstretched wings, clutching a crown in its talons. How wonderfully appropriate. "No, Garrett. Fighting is what desperate people do when they have no other options."
He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, then reached for the silver-inlaid quill that had signed the family's name to documents for generations. His handwriting was elegant, flowing, the script of nobility mixed with the precision of someone who understood that words were weapons.
[NEW SKILL DETECTED: CALCULATED INTIMIDATION]
[ANALYZING...]
[SKILL ACQUIRED: PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION (BASIC)]
[INFLUENCE POINTS GAINED: +5]
"What I'm going to do," Damien continued, his pen moving with deliberate strokes across the parchment, "is much more elegant than fighting. I'm going to remind Lord Blackwood that there are predators in this world far more dangerous than he ever imagined."
The letter he was writing was simple. Almost cordial. A response to Blackwood's dinner invitation, written in the tone of a young man eager to discuss business arrangements. Nothing threatening. Nothing that could be construed as hostile.
But woven into the polite phrases were subtle references. A mention of "mutual acquaintances" in the capital. A casual reference to "interesting discoveries about regional trade routes" that he looked forward to discussing. Small things that would mean nothing to most people.
To a man with secrets, they would mean everything.
Garrett peered over his shoulder, reading the letter with growing confusion. "Young master, I don't understand. This seems quite... ordinary."
"That's because you're a good man, Garrett." Damien sealed the letter with the Corvus family seal, the raven seeming to spread its wings in the melted wax. "Good men see letters. Guilty men see threats."
[QUEST UPDATE: FIRST MOVE EXECUTED]
[INFLUENCE POINTS GAINED: +10]
[NEW SKILL UNLOCK APPROACHING...]
As if summoned by the system notification, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Heavy boots, multiple sets. Damien's enhanced hearing, apparently one of the perks of his new existence, picked up the sound of chainmail and the distinctive jingle of ceremonial weapons.
"Are we expecting visitors, Garrett?"
The steward's face went pale. "No, young master. No one should..."
The doors to the study burst open without ceremony, and six men in the blue and gold livery of the Royal Guard strode in. Their leader, a captain with sergeant's stripes and the kind of face that suggested he enjoyed his work a little too much, looked around the room with obvious disdain.
"Damien Corvus, third son of House Corvus?"
"That would be me." Damien remained seated, his posture relaxed, but his mind was already racing through possibilities. The timing was too convenient. Someone had been watching, waiting for the perfect moment to add pressure. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain...?"
"Aldric. Captain Aldric." The man's hand rested on his sword hilt, not quite a threat, but close enough to be insulting. "You're to come with us immediately. By order of Lord Magistrate Blackwood."
Magistrate Blackwood. Not just Lord Blackwood. The man held a legal position, which explained a great deal about how he'd managed to acquire so many properties through supposedly legitimate means.
"On what charges?" Damien asked mildly.
"Suspected tax evasion and fraudulent representation of assets." Captain Aldric's smile was unpleasant. "Seems someone's been asking questions about the true value of Corvus holdings. Lord Magistrate Blackwood wants to have a... conversation."
[WARNING: IMMEDIATE THREAT DETECTED]
[RECOMMENDATION: SUBMIT TO AUTHORITY TO AVOID ESCALATION]
Damien almost snorted. The system clearly didn't understand how this particular game was played. Submitting to Blackwood now would be the end of everything. The man had obviously expected the dinner invitation gambit and had countered with legal authority.
Clever. But not clever enough.
"Of course," Damien said, rising from his chair with aristocratic grace. "I'm always happy to assist the magistrate with his inquiries. Though I must say, the timing is fascinating."
Captain Aldric's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing at all." Damien straightened his cuffs, taking his time. "It's just remarkable how quickly legal concerns arise when someone begins asking inconvenient questions. The efficiency of our justice system is truly... inspiring."
The words were perfectly chosen. Respectful enough to avoid charges of obstruction, but pointed enough to make everyone in the room understand exactly what was happening. This wasn't justice. This was intimidation.
[SKILL EVOLUTION: PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION (BASIC) → PSYCHOLOGICAL MANIPULATION (INTERMEDIATE)]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: READ INTENT]
[INFLUENCE POINTS GAINED: +15]
As the new ability activated, Damien could suddenly sense the emotional undercurrents in the room like a sixth sense. Captain Aldric: suspicious, but following orders without personal investment. The guards: bored, routine. Garrett: terrified, protective, utterly loyal.
And underneath it all, something else. A thread of communication that felt distinctly non-human, carrying information across vast distances.
Someone was watching this confrontation. Someone with power far beyond a rural magistrate.
Interesting.
"Garrett," Damien said, pulling on his coat with deliberate calm, "please ensure our letter reaches Lord Blackwood as planned. And if I'm not back by morning..." He paused, letting his smile turn predatory. "Send a copy to every noble house in the capital. I'm sure they'd find our correspondence quite illuminating."
Captain Aldric stepped forward, hand fully on his weapon now. "That sounds like a threat, boy."
"Does it?" Damien tilted his head, the picture of innocent confusion. "I was simply ensuring important business correspondence reaches its destination. Surely the magistrate wouldn't interfere with legitimate commercial communications?"
The captain's face darkened, but he couldn't argue with the logic. Not without admitting this was a deliberate attempt to suppress evidence.
"Move," he growled instead.
As they escorted him from the study, Damien caught one last glimpse of Garrett standing amid the ruins of the family he'd served his entire life. The old man looked lost, frightened, but there was something else in his eyes now.
Hope.
[QUEST UPDATE: COMPLICATION DETECTED]
[ADAPTIVE STRATEGY REQUIRED]
[NEW OBJECTIVE: TURN INTERROGATION INTO ADVANTAGE]
[BONUS REWARD AVAILABLE FOR CREATIVE SOLUTION]
The guards led him through the estate's crumbling halls, past portraits of Corvus ancestors who'd once commanded armies and influenced kings. Twenty-three years ago, those portraits had meant nothing to him. Today, looking at them with eyes that had lived two lifetimes, he saw something different.
They weren't just pictures of dead nobles. They were reminders of what House Corvus had been. What it could be again.
What it would be again.
Because Damien had died once already, and death had taught him something valuable: the universe didn't care about fairness, justice, or moral superiority. It cared about results.
And he had always been spectacularly good at getting results.
As they stepped out into the courtyard where horses waited, Damien allowed himself one final glance back at the tower. Somewhere in that building, Garrett was probably panicking, trying to figure out how to save a young master who'd finally shown signs of life only to be dragged away by the authorities.
The old man didn't need to worry. This wasn't Damien being captured.
This was Damien going hunting.
"Captain Aldric," he said pleasantly as they helped him onto a horse, "I do hope Lord Magistrate Blackwood has prepared something interesting for dinner. I have a feeling tonight's conversation is going to be quite... memorable."
The captain just grunted, but Damien caught the flicker of unease in his eyes.
Good. Unease was useful. Unease made people make mistakes.
And Damien was very much looking forward to Lord Blackwood's mistakes.
[STATUS UPDATE:
- Influence Level: 0.3% (Regional)
- Skills Acquired: Psychological Manipulation (Intermediate), Read Intent
- Influence Points: 30
- Reputation: "Potentially Dangerous"
- Next Objective: Survive the interrogation and establish dominance]
[SYSTEM NOTE: Host shows remarkable adaptation to moral flexibility. Monitoring protocols remain in effect.]
As they rode toward whatever Lord Blackwood had planned, Damien's smile never wavered. The game had begun, and for the first time since his reincarnation, he felt truly alive.
After all, there was nothing quite like the thrill of the hunt.
Especially when everyone else thought they were the predators.