Victoria Tiger
You want to hear my story? Well… there's nothing special about it. But since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. Let's see—where should I start? Hm? The beginning? Okay.
I was born in the Tiger Royal Palace in the year 3001 of the Great Dragon Age, the eighth descendant of Her Majesty, King Flora Tiger.
As you probably know, the rules of the Tiger Royal Family state that each child born during a monarch's reign is only considered a true descendant if chosen by the King. I was the eighth to be chosen. My birth mother was loving and kind, though I never knew my father. He died in the Grudge War before I ever laid eyes on him.
Life was… normal—at least, royal-normal. I had etiquette classes, history lessons, and training in all the proper mannerisms expected of royalty.
But everything changed when I turned ten.
That was the year my [Hashi Veins] fully formed. Her Majesty Flora herself tested me in the ancient arts—[True Weapon Art] and [Hashi Arts]. It's tradition: once a royal descendant's veins are awakened, they're tested to discover their talents and affinities.
I showed extraordinary talent in archery—and even more shocking, I awakened the element of fire. A rare occurrence in the Tiger Royal Family. So rare, in fact, that I became known as the Fire Tiger—only the fourth in recorded history.
Things were good. For a while.
Then… they found out about my darker urges. The strange thrill I felt at the sight of blood. The twisted fascination I had with pain. My mother was horrified. She told me to never speak of it to anyone—that it was "disgusting." Her gaze turned cold. Her voice sharpened. The warmth I once knew vanished, replaced by disdain and discipline.
That hurt, more than I'd like to admit.
Then… I was kidnapped.
I don't remember much. One moment I was in a carriage, the next—I was strapped to a table. Surrounded by figures in white. Panic. Confusion. Screaming.
That's when everything changed.
They experimented on me. Again. And again. And again. I prayed for someone—anyone—to save me. Begged. Pleaded. But the days bled into weeks, the weeks into months. My voice broke. My tears dried. I learned to love the silence—because silence meant no experiments. Silence meant no pain.
I was haunted by the screams of others. Just like me.
Eventually, I broke. Lost all hope. Went mad. Hallucinations blurred with reality—maybe from blood loss, or the endless electrical shocks, or the poisons, or the pain. I couldn't see straight anymore. My body felt like stone—weak, fragile, cold. I'd lost so much weight I barely recognized myself. A skeleton in royal skin.
Six months. That's how long I was there. Maybe longer. I lost track. I stopped caring. I just wanted to sleep—and never wake up.
Then one day, it all changed.
One of the men dragged me from my cell. He seemed nervous—rushed. I couldn't make out his face. He hoisted me over his shoulder and ran. I could hear others shouting.
"Get the important subjects to safety! Eliminate the rest!"
"What about the base?"
"No evidence. The base will be destroyed. Scatter!"
"Use the emergency exits!" another voice bellowed.
We moved fast. I didn't know where we were going, but the panic in their voices told me it was serious.
Then, the man holding me froze.
"I-It can't be… It's the War Demon Prince!" he stammered, terror in his voice.
He trembled violently. A moment later, a blade pierced through his chest. I felt the warm spray of blood. He collapsed backward, dropping me to the ground.
I struggled to rise, my body barely cooperating. That's when I saw him.
Silver hair shimmered in the moonlight, floating like silk in the wind. Eyes like violet jewels, cold and piercing—like they could see every hidden corner of my soul. His face was breathtaking, delicate, and androgynous. Emotionless. Untouchable.
The moonlight haloed him from above, casting him in a divine glow. He looked down at me like a god staring at a pitiful mortal—indifferent. Silent.
That was the last thing I saw before my vision faded again, and darkness took me once more.