Walking down the long castle corridors, Damian decided to make good use of his time. His fingers twitched slightly with anticipation.
"Status open." He chanted as the familiar transparent bluish screen blinked into view.
---
Name: Damian Blackthorne
Class: Prince of Light
HP: 100/100
MP: 100/100
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Skills: [Gluttony], [Illusion]
---
"Lemme see..." he muttered clenching while tapping his class on the screen, then another screen popped up.
---
[Class: Prince of Light]
A rare class obtainable only by children of noble blood who carry the trait of a gods—Ester—within them
The Prince of Light wields both martial strength and holy radiance. A hybrid warrior-mage class, it grants light-based abilities and enhanced physical stats. Those who bear this class are entirely immune to negative status effects.
---
'Back in my old life, this class was considered the strongest of all light-based lineages,' he mused with a proud grin. 'And now, it's mine.'
He tapped on the next item on his status.
----
[Unique Skill: Gluttony]
This ability allows the user to devour the skills of the deceased. However, it can only be used once per soul as long as their corpses still remain.
[All absorbed skills will lose 30% of their potency in exchange for becoming permanent skills.]
----
"Whoa... Uniques are not joke huh" he remarked.
Unique skills are distinct from regular skills in the sense that only one person in the world can possess a particular unique skill at a time, unlike normal skills that can be learned by anyone if enough effort is put into it.
"I'm glad I got this one," Damian muttered.
A shadowy memory flickered in his mind—an ominous figure from his past life who abused this very power sending a cold shiver through Damian.
"I wonder what skill that guy will get this time around..." He pondered. "... Well that's a problem for another day."
He added while closing the screen.
"And last but not least..."
---
[Skill: Illusion]
A normal illusion-based skill that creates a fake. Illusion that mimicks the original perfectly by bending perception—making others see what the user wants them to.
---
"This skill's been surprisingly handy..." he said, remembering how it helped him mask his true stats during his awakening. "I guess it's because I got it from my awakening."
All skills gained during a Class Awakening appear in their full form, he recalled. But most of them seem weak at first, at least until they adapt to their user's nature or vice versa.
For example, a person who awakened with [Sword Mastery] would almost always outperform someone who picked it up later in life. Awakening unlocked potential, not just power.
He looked up.
"Oh... I'm here."
Before him stood massive double doors—at least 5-6 times his height. They towered like giants, carved with ancient patterns and adorned with shimmering gold.
On arriving, the guards stationed at the sides nodded in sync and pulled the doors open without a word.
What met Damian on walking in was awe-inspiring.
The royal throne room was cavernous—at least a quarter the size of a stadium. The walls were draped in tapestries of red and gold, and the emblem of the Kingdom of Edelgard was displayed with pride: a great silver shield with a black sword driven into the earth, encircled by blooming black roses.
A long crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the end of the room, where a single extravagant throne stood, carved from obsidian and sun-forged gold.
A distant yet familiar voice echoed through the vastness.
"Father... I thought you only summoned your children here?"
Damian's eyes narrowed. He knew that voice.
'Lucien…' he thought. '...my 2nd brother and father's third child.'
Though he'd barely interacted with him before his regression, so he didn't know much, but Lucien always stood out—mysterious, quiet, unreadable.
Lucien wasn't alone. Standing beside him were his blood siblings—Kai and Kaia—as well as Aeron, silent and observant as always.
But what truly caught Damian's attention were the two figures at the front.
His breath hitched.
"That's... First brother and First sister," he whispered.
Before the regression, he'd never seen them—not even once. This was their very first meeting.
"Who is this child, Father?" the First Sister—Marcine—asked coldly, her sharp gaze scanning Damian with veiled contempt, not knowing he was their step brother.
"Silence," the King's voice boomed, instantly quieting the room. Power oozed from that single command.
Damian's eyes finally locked onto his father—the man who sat upon the throne.
"King Elric Blackthorne." he whispered.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and battle-worn, yet not a single gray streak touched his pale golden hair. His elegant attire fluttered from his sheer aura alone, despite the still air. An unlit cigar dangled from his lips, and his build was something between a mountain and a war god. His armor was rugged but regal, giving off a Yami Sukehiro meets Garp sort of vibe—raw power barely restrained by royal polish.
"As you all know," the King began, smirking under the weight of his aura, "you all are siblings."
A chorus of low grunts and eye rolls followed.
"Haha!—I was just messing with you," he chuckled, in an attempt to lift the gloomy tension in the room.
Then, his expression grew cold and hardened as he spread his aura throughout the entire throneroom, putting pressure on everyone present.
"I'll cut to the chase."
The atmosphere turned suffocating, His voice dropping by at least an octave.
"You kids want my throne?" he asked.
"...."
None of them could answer though. At least not all of them could. As only the first two siblings could withstand the pressure. But other than them, the rest fell under its influence.
"..."
"If any of you want to be king…"
He patted the armrest of his throne and glanced at his eldest son with a knowing look.
"Then give me results."
'Results?' They all thought the simultaneously.
"Get results better than no one ever has before... Prove to me you're worthy to lead Edelgard..." he advised.
The king's aura surged like a tidal wave, pressing down on all of them. The air was so thick it hurt to breathe. This time, including the elder siblings.
"...Prove to me you're destined to rule."
Then, just like that, the pressure vanished.
Most of the heirs coughed or stumbled, their lungs gasping for breath.
Well, except Damian.
He stood calmly, a neutral as if he was thinking something else entirely.
His father's eyes flicked to him with suspicion as their gazed locked for a split second.
A beat later, Damian faked a few coughs, sweat trickling down his temple.
'Phew... That was close,' he thought.
The only reason he had withstood that pressure was because of his class perk.
'Status immunity is no joke,' he smiled to himself. 'Too bad my days of researching this stuff are far behind me—'
"Damian." called his father.
King Elric's voice pierced the air like a knife, cause a shiver to course through Damian's body, making him flinch.
"Y-Yes, Father?" he responded quickly, feeling the weight of every sibling's gaze shift to him.
"I look forward to seeing what you achieve, boy," the King said, his tone unreadable.
Damian was silent for a moment. Then a small, genuine smile crept across his face.
'Wow...'
'This... is the first time Father has ever expected anything from me'
He straightened his posture and saluted with bright, eager eyes.
"Understood, sir!"