Chapter 6:

Chapter 7: Truth Behind the Poison and Moving Forward

Rebirth of the Forsaken Prince

As Alistair made his way to the king’s private chamber, his vision blurred momentarily. The strange mist-like screen that had hovered in front of him before now reappeared. Gritting his teeth, he focused, forcing the words to come into clarity.

---
Status Window

---

Name: Alistair Drakos
Age: 11 (Turning 12 in 5 Days)
Race: Human (Draconic Bloodline)
Title: Twelfth Prince of the Holy Drakos Empire
Class: None
Mana Core: None

Blessings:
- Blessing of the God of Creation (??? - Sealed)
- Blessing of the God of Dragons (??? - Sealed)

Attributes:
- Strength: 3
- Agility: 4
- Endurance: 2
- Mana Sensitivity: 0
- Vitality: 1

Status Effects:
- Severe Poisoning (??? - Unknown Origin)
- Weakened Constitution
- Mana Blocked (Must Awaken Before Age 12)

Abilities:
- Appraisal (Basic - Limited Information Available)
- Survivor’s Will (Passive) – Unyielding determination to live against all odds. Slight resistance to mental debuffs.
- See Mana (Blessing of God of Creation) - Rank E
- Status Window (Unique) (Blessing of God of Creation) - Rank E
- Language (Blessing of God of Creation) - Rank E
- Dragon Language (Unique) (Blessing of Dragon God) - Rank E
- Instant Recovery (Unique) (Blessing of Dragon God) - Rank E

---

His fists clenched as his eyes locked onto the words. The numbers screamed weakness. Strength, speed, defense—all abysmally low. The poison was still preventing him from even sensing mana. If not for his intelligence and the blessings he had received, he might have been no better than a cripple.

A wave of fury burned through him.

*Poison. I was deliberately weakened. And they all knew.*

He forced himself to take a steady breath. Rage would not help him now.

Testing his newfound ability, he activated Appraisal , hoping for more information. The moment he did, a sharp pain lanced through his skull. His vision blurred, and he staggered.

“Your Highness!” Sofia’s voice was filled with concern as she caught his arm.

The pain subsided slightly, and a new screen formed before his eyes—

---
Name : Sofia Elin
Race : Half-Elf
Age : 10
State : Sad, Cares for the 12th Prince
Blessing : Nature (Unique)
Potential for Growth : Very High

---
Skills
- Spirit Magic (Unique to Elves) Rank D
- Housekeeping Rank A
- Short Swordsmanship Rank D
- Spearmanship Rank D

---

Alistair’s eyes widened.

*Sofia has a unique blessing? And her potential for growth is ‘very high’?*

Even at her young age, she had talent in swordsmanship and magic. If trained properly, she could become someone formidable in the future. Yet, here she was—his personal maid.

Was it by choice, or had she been forced into this position?

His throat tightened at the thought.

“Sofia,” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “Are you truly okay with serving me? If you leave now, you could become someone great.”

She stiffened, her hands balling into fists. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. But then—

Her expression changed.

A heavy sadness filled her eyes, and his Status Window updated instantly.

State : Extremely Sad

He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he also wasn’t blind. She was shackled to him—whether by duty, loyalty, or something else.

Seeing her expression, he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a small nod. “Forget I said anything.”

She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Your Highness.”

At last, they arrived before the grand doors of the king’s private chamber.

Alistair took a steady breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon his shoulders. The towering doors loomed before him, gilded with intricate carvings of dragons and battlefields—a testament to the power of the Drakos bloodline. This was not merely a room. It was a lion’s den, and he was walking in alone.

He turned to Sofia, whose hands were clenched at her sides. “Wait here.”

She flinched but nodded, suppressing the emotions in her eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He stepped forward. The guards pulled the massive doors open, and a wave of heavy, suffocating presence washed over him as he entered.

Inside, seated upon an ornate throne, was King Aldric Drakos . His golden eyes, identical to Alistair’s, burned with unwavering authority. Beside him sat Queen Eleanor , her expression unreadable, but Alistair could see the tension in her posture. Surrounding them were the Seven Dukes, two Knight Generals, two Mage Masters, and his uncles from Aurelius—powerful figures, each carrying an overwhelming aura.

Alistair took another step, and suddenly—

[ ERROR: Level Not High Enough ]

A sharp pain lanced through his skull. His vision flickered. He had attempted to read their status windows, but aside from their names, ages, races, and positions, everything else was blocked.

He clenched his teeth, refusing to falter, and continued forward.

---

The Seven Dukes (King Aldric’s Brothers):

The Two Knight Generals:

- General Darius Valeheart – Age 50 | Race: Human
- General Roland Stormcrest – Age 47 | Race: Human

The Two Mage Masters:

- Archmage Eldrin Faelora – Age 180 | Race: High Elf
- Grand Sorceress Selene Nightshade – Age 39 | Race: Human

The Two Dukes from Aurelius (Queen Eleanor’s Homeland):

- Duke Lucian Aurelius – Age 45 | Race: Human
- Duke Cedric Aurelius – Age 42 | Race: Human

---

The sheer pressure from these individuals was suffocating. Alistair clenched his fists. He had no choice but to grow stronger.

Alistair faced the king, his golden eyes intense. "You don't want a son that creates a political war," he said darkly.

The queen's voice cut through the tension. "Watch your mouth when you speak to your father!"

Alistair turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Mom, you too didn’t care about me. Instead, you chose the kingdom."

The room fell silent.

The king’s gaze remained unwavering. "Enough with political matters. Are you here to say that you can't participate in The Trials of the Drakos Bloodline because you can’t use mana and blame the poison?"

Alistair straightened. He met the king’s gaze—not with defiance, but with calm determination. The frailty in his limbs, the remnants of poison in his blood—they were mere obstacles. The fire in his soul remained.

"And yet, I stand before you, Your Majesty." His tone was even, respectful, yet firm. "Weak or not, forgotten or not, I am still a Drakos. That alone should be enough."

A flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps irritation—passed through the king’s expression...

Alistair faced the king, his golden eyes intense. "You don't want a son that creates a political war," he said darkly.

The queen's voice cut through the tension. "Watch your mouth when you speak to your father!"

Alistair turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Mom, you too didn’t care about me. Instead, you chose the kingdom."

The room fell silent.

"And yet, I stand before you, Your Majesty." His tone was even, respectful, yet firm. "Weak or not, forgotten or not, I am still a Drakos. That alone should be enough."

A flicker of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps irritation—passed through the king’s expression. He leaned forward slightly, fingers tapping against the wood of his chair.

"Enough?" He let the word linger. "You dare claim that name so easily, after years of disgrace?"

The room grew colder. The weight of the king’s presence pressed down like an iron grip. Even the knights outside the door tensed at the sheer force of his aura.

Most would have bowed their heads. Trembled.

But Alistair stood his ground.

His golden eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now burned with silent defiance.

"If my name is a disgrace, I will cleanse it. If I am unworthy, I will prove otherwise." He took a step forward. "You may command me to kneel, but I will not crawl."

The air crackled with unspoken tension. The candlelight flickered, casting deep shadows on the king’s face as he studied his son with unreadable eyes.

Then—

A chuckle.

Low. Almost imperceptible.

King Aldric smirked, though it did not reach his eyes.

"Hmph. You sound like your mother."

The queen’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of emotions flickering through her expression—pride, sadness, and something unspoken. But she remained silent.

The king’s voice softened for only a fraction of a second before hardening again. "But words are meaningless without strength. And strength, Alistair, is something you lack."

The king stood, his imposing figure towering over the boy.

"The Trials of the Drakos Bloodline will determine whether you are worthy of my name. You have five days. Survive, or die forgotten."

A final, piercing look. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he dismissed him.

Alistair bowed once more. But as he turned to leave, he caught something—

A shadow of something unspoken in the king’s gaze.

Regret? Expectation? Or merely calculation?

Alistair did not know.

Before leaving, he requested his uncles from his mother’s side to invite the royal family of the queen’s kingdom to attend The Trials of the Drakos Bloodline.

His uncles accepted his request, ensuring that the royal family would be present.

After excusing himself from the king’s presence, Alistair left the chamber.

As the doors closed behind him, the king’s face darkened with sadness. "He didn't call me Father or Dad. Instead, he called me King."

The queen, sensing his emotions, spoke in a soothing tone. "He still respects you."

The king shook his head. "But he called you Mom, not Queen."

She smiled softly. "Exactly. Because you have your crown. He respects that crown, so he calls you King. I don’t wear mine, so he calls me Mom."

A small, bittersweet smile formed on the king’s lips. Proud, yet burdened with sorrow.

Everyone in the chamber felt it. Pride in Alistair’s resolve. But also the weight of what was to come.

As Alistair stepped outside the chamber, he whispered to himself with unwavering determination.

Five days.

Five days to awaken his mana.

Failure was not an option.

To be continued...

Rebirth of the Forsaken Prince

Author:

ELDDRAGO

Chapter 7: Truth Behind the Poison and Moving Forward

Rebirth of the Forsaken Prince

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