Cruel World

In the wide courtyard of the royal palace, the air was thick with tension.

The sun, usually warm and gentle, now felt cruel—its light piercing down upon the body of a young man tied to a rough wooden pillar.

Akira’s body trembled. The ropes that bound him were too tight, cutting into his skin and leaving burning marks. His breath came in shallow gasps, cold sweat tracing down his temples. He tried to move his hands, but it was useless.

Heavy footsteps echoed closer. The King—the man he once respected more than anyone—walked forward with an air of absolute authority. His grand robe fluttered with dignity, but behind that majesty, his eyes held nothing but piercing hatred.

“Akira…” The King’s voice was flat and cold—void of emotion.

The young man slowly raised his head. His weary eyes met the King’s, hollow and filled with invisible wounds.

“Your Majesty… what is it that you’re doing to me?” His voice cracked, rough and broken.

A thin smile formed on the King’s lips. It wasn’t a kind smile—it was one of mockery.

“I only desire one thing… I want you dead.”

His voice rang out sharply, like a blade stabbing straight into Akira’s heart.

“I don’t want to see someone without magic living in my kingdom! You’re nothing but a stain that taints this nation’s pride.”

His words echoed through the courtyard, forcing the knights and servants who witnessed it to bow their heads in fear. None dared to speak.

The King’s glare sharpened.

“Akira, you’re nothing but a burden. You never should have been born.”

Akira’s face turned pale. Those words struck like lightning tearing through his heart. His lips quivered, barely able to form words.

“A burden…?” he whispered faintly.

His eyes glistened, but he forced the tears back. His shoulders trembled; his heart screamed in silence.

I never asked to be born… he thought bitterly. I only wanted to live… that’s all…

But the world stayed silent. Only the emptiness answered.

The King turned away, his robe sweeping dramatically behind him. He raised his right hand high—an undeniable signal.

“Execute him at once! I don’t want to see such a useless being in my presence ever again!”

The knights stood straight, their swords gleaming under the merciless sun.

Akira glared at the King’s back, fury burning deep inside him.

“Damn it…!!” he screamed, his voice hoarse. “If I had magic… I WOULD KILL YOU!! DAMN YOU!!”

His voice echoed through the courtyard, startling the servants. But the King merely paused, glancing back with eyes full of scorn.

“Don’t dream, Akira. Even if you were to be reborn, you would still never have magic. The gods have despised you from the very beginning.”

Those words cut deeper than any sword. Akira froze, his chest hollow.

“The gods… hate me?” he thought. So even the gods have abandoned me…?

The knights’ footsteps drew closer. Two of them stepped forward, swords unsheathed. The sound of steel meeting air was the sound of death itself.

One of them hesitated. His lips trembled as he whispered softly, “Don’t hold a grudge against me, Akira.”

Akira turned his head, eyes widening as he recognized the voice.

“…Jack…?” he murmured.

Jack—his close friend, the one he once called a brother—now stood as his executioner.

Akira’s heart shattered even more than his bound body. His empty gaze turned bitter.

Even you… Jack…?

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, his grip tightening. “I’m sorry…” he whispered.

The blade flashed.

In an instant, everything ended.

Akira’s world dimmed, swallowed by a blinding white light. It was warm, yet strange. That light enveloped him, consuming his rage, pain, and despair.

So… my life ends here… huh? he whispered in his heart.

But within the light, a glowing silhouette appeared. There was no face—only a divine figure, radiant and terrifying all at once.

“W-where am I!?” Akira shouted, trying to resist the brightness.

No answer came. Only a massive door of light slowly opened before him. Its glow pulsed softly, as if calling him forward.

His heart wavered, yet something—fate itself—seemed to push him ahead.

“Could this… be a new beginning?” he muttered.

He stepped forward, reaching out to touch the light. Its warmth spread through his body, soothing his broken soul. Akira closed his eyes—and passed through the door.

Suddenly, the sound of a baby crying filled the air.

Akira opened his eyes. A different sight awaited him—a beautiful ceiling adorned with gold patterns, soft white curtains, and the gentle warmth of someone’s arms.

Am I… a baby? he thought, shocked.

A dignified man in royal attire approached, his kind smile shining like the morning sun. He gently lifted the baby into his arms.

“Kairu…” he said softly.

The baby—Akira’s soul in a new body—stared blankly, unable to believe it.

My… new father?

Soon after, a graceful woman in a golden-white gown approached, her tone filled with affection and playful jealousy.

“Oh dear~ don’t hog him all to yourself. I want to hold him too.”

The man chuckled. “Elenora… jealous again, are we?”

The woman, Queen Elenora Nijima, pouted softly as she took the baby from him. King Alden Nijima could only laugh at her reaction.

“This child… will one day become a great prince,” Alden said, his eyes gleaming with pride.

The baby’s soft cry echoed through the room, filling it with warmth.

And in that moment, Akira realized—his old name had died along with his body in the world before.

Now, he was Kairu Nijima, the Third Prince of the Kingdom in the world of Xyroo.

Yet deep within his heart burned a fiery resolve.

“This time… I’ll live with strength. With the magic I’ve always dreamed of.”