The immediate, scorching anger begins to cool, giving way to chilling, calculated analysis. He revisits the crucial turning point of the game's narrative—how Prince Mikhail had reacted to the spectacular public defeat in Eldrath: the despair, the regression, the spiraling alcoholism that served as a pathetic epilogue to his uselessness. That was the moment the character was truly destroyed in the lore, paving the way for the Hero's rise.
The realization strikes him with painful clarity. He savagely punches his own thigh beneath the expensive silk, the unfamiliar muscle reacting with a dull, throbbing ache. "Doesn't this feel similar to my own life back then?" The question is a bitter accusation hurled at the universe. Always bad fucking luck. The pattern is identical: granted a great opportunity—a new life, power, status—only to be set up for immediate, catastrophic public failure that would lead to self-destruction. You want to kill me again. His teeth grind together, the sound barely audible over the carriage's movement. I died miserably once. I'm not dying again. The terror of his past helplessness is now the iron core of his resolve.
The decision is swift, ruthless, entirely logical given his history and foreknowledge. The narrative calls for a villain, a despised figure whose downfall would make the Hero shine brighter. He'll stop resisting the role thrust upon him and instead fully, terrifyingly inhabit it. Clenching his fists until his knuckles are white, he makes a final, unbreakable promise to himself: "You want me to be the villain? I'll be better than that" If the path to survival means becoming the monster, he'll walk it without hesitation, weaponizing the immense power of the Great Empire that the original Mikhail had only ever neglected.
His mind shifts from emotional reaction to strategic calculation. He has an advantage the original Mikhail never had—complete knowledge of how this world works. The game had been thorough in its worldbuilding, and he'd absorbed every detail during those forty-eight hours.
He mentally catalogs what he knows: The continent, called the Clavaria, is massive—roughly three times the size of Asia, bounded by the mysterious Boundless Sea. Five major human kingdoms dominate the central regions, always jockeying for position and influence. His Empire sits at the center, the most technologically and militarily powerful, though the game had painted it as corrupt and antagonistic. Eldrath to the east—where he's headed—had that distinct Asian-inspired aesthetic, all refined culture and martial tradition. Then there are the three other major kingdoms occupying the North, South, and West, forming a loose, often tense alliance against the Empire's dominance.
But that's just the civilized part. East of Eldrath, he remembers, stretches the immense Forbidden Forest—thousands of kilometers of hazardous wilderness where the non-human races live: Elves, Orcs, Demi-Humans, and countless other species. The game had used it as a constant source of frontier conflicts and side quests.
And beyond even that? He shivers slightly, remembering the late-game revelation. The Ancient Demonic Kingdom of Pandemir lies past the Forbidden Forest—another human civilization, but one so powerful that even the combined might of all five orthodox kingdoms wouldn't dare provoke them. They weren't actually demonic, despite the name. It came from their focus on dark magical cultivation, practices the orthodox kingdoms feared and misunderstood. The game had made them figures of folklore and whispered warnings among common people.
This knowledge—the complete map of power, the political tensions, the looming threats—is his greatest weapon. The original Mikhail had all the resources in the world but no idea how to use them. He has the opposite problem: he knows exactly what needs to be done, and now he has the resources to do it.
But he can't wait four days to be ambushed by fate. He needs to strike first, preemptively severing the root of his destruction. The decision is clear: he has to neutralize the Hero before the Hero can even begin to shine.
The Crown Prince leans forward, his voice losing the spoiled quality of the former Mikhail and acquiring a commanding, deliberate edge.
"Vice Commander Hilowat."
The knight immediately rides closer, pulling his warhorse abreast of the carriage window. He executes a flawless, respectful bow from the saddle, his loyalty absolute. "Anything, Your Majesty."
Mikhail's eyes, fixed on a calculating distance, hold chilling intensity. He doesn't speak of grand strategy or diplomatic goals, but of a specific, critical piece of intelligence. "When we enter Eldrath, I want you to dispatch a small, discreet group of your best spies—men capable of moving without drawing attention. Their mission is to immediately locate a man known as Ren Takahito. They are to ascertain his movements and status, and when I give the order, they are to capture him and bring him to me. Ensure this operation is handled with the utmost secrecy."
Hilowat, a man accustomed to the vagaries of royal command but perhaps surprised by the sudden, intense focus of the Crown Prince, processes the order instantly. "Understood, Your Majesty. The man will be located and prepared for your command."
As the knight retreats to rejoin the formation, the new Prince Mikhail settles back, a faint, genuinely cold smile tracing his lips. Ren Takahito—the Hero's name—is now marked. The script of the game demands the Crown Prince be humiliated by the Hero in Eldrath. But armed with knowledge, the villain will arrive in four days and silence the rising star before the curtain even goes up. Let's see how you humiliate me now, Hero.