My brain struggled to process the avalanche of information.
All sorts of what people called "colors" stretched endlessly before me. I was overwhelmed by so much visual stimulation that I had to shut my eyes for a moment just to regain my composure.
I didn't truly understand what I was seeing, but one word instinctively came to mind:
"Beautiful."
These were the first girls I had seen in... 40 years.
Something felt off. I had often heard that women were associated with beauty, but the ones standing before me went far beyond anything I could have imagined. Even I—born blind—could sense it instinctively: they were far from ordinary.
Of course, I might have been mistaken. Perhaps they simply represented what people considered the standard of feminine beauty.
But another detail caught my attention.
I slowly opened my eyes again, uncertain.
"Is this... normal?" I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.
Their ears... long, slender, pointed.
I had never heard of such things. Reflexively, I reached for my own ears. Short. Normal. Just to be sure, I did it again, more slowly this time.
And then—
A strange sensation ran through me.
"It feels like my hand..."
I pulled my hand away from my ear and compared it to the other.
Hmm...
Out of habit, I had forgotten I could simply look. I had regained part of my vision, and yet, my body still acted like before.
A small laugh escaped me.
"Haha... I guess it's just habit."
I reached out my hands, holding them up before me, mesmerized.
So this is what... hands look like?
Fascinating.
A shiver of euphoria had been running through me for a while now.
But one question kept nagging at the back of my mind.
Why... why are they so small?
As I marveled at this first vision, a sudden, searing heat pierced through my eyes.
I wanted to scream — but no sound came out.
It was as if I'd been ripped from reality, as if my mouth had been sealed shut and thrown into some other space... some other world.
My head began to throb violently.
The pain was blinding. Excruciating.
And yet, from the outside, I didn't move.
Then — everything spiraled out of control.
Images flashed before me at breakneck speed. Strange, unfamiliar knowledge burned itself into my mind.
I couldn't tell if I was witnessing memories... or if my imagination was collapsing on itself.
But one thing was certain:
I was reliving someone else's life.
The life of a child.
Memories that weren't mine slammed into my consciousness like hammers.
My eyes were in agony.
But I didn't blink.
I refused to look away.
I had to see.
I needed to take it all in. Even if it came crashing down on me without warning...
I just wanted to see.
Yes.
Anything but the darkness.
And that's exactly what was happening.
Right now.
---
Hah... hah... ha...
I gasped loudly, breath ragged and shallow.
Something insane had just happened to me.
Utterly... insane.
So that's what's going on, huh...
Everything was finally clicking into place in my head.
I now understood where I was. Who I was—
or rather, who the former owner of this body had been.
And why he was here.
Damn...
There really are things out there that can't be explained.
I was in someone else's body.
And in a world completely different from Earth.
So that voice from earlier...
it wasn't joking.
Every word had been literal. No metaphors. No riddles.
A world where mana exists, huh...
It felt like the plot of one of those webnovel audiobooks I used to binge as a kid.
But this?
There was no longer any doubt.
I'd really been reincarnated.
And what I saw earlier...
Those were the memories of the boy who used to live in this body.
Lyrian Solkaris Velmire.
Not exactly the most charming name, if you ask me.
Apparently, he was the twelfth son of the King of Solkaris.
A prince, yeah—
but born with zero mana affinity.
Zilch.
And to top it off, his eyesight had been fading year by year until he went completely blind by age ten.
Even at five, the kid had been studious.
Devouring every book on mana he could get his hands on, hoping that one day he'd learn to use it.
He even looked into spells to restore his vision... but no luck.
And now that I think about it...
Of course my hands are so small.
This body is only ten years old.
Oh—
and apparently, one of his own brothers was the one who put him in this situation.
Lovely.
But hey...
None of that's really my problem now.
As Lyrian's memories kept flooding my mind, a strange thought crossed it.
Betrayal. Conspiracies. Royalty. A slave market. A fallen princess. Mana...
… and a complete absence of any true mafias.
Isn't this...
For a while now, I've been feeling something unusual coursing through my body—
a strange, overwhelming sensation of power.
The mana… it's flowing through every fiber of my being, like it had always been there, silently waiting to erupt.
A quantity of mana I can't even begin to comprehend.
And yet… all of it seems to converge toward two precise points.
A slow smile spreads across my lips.
My eyes.
So this is what that voice meant?
"A power beyond measure"…?
My senses are on fire.
Everything feels heightened.
I can sense every shift in the air, every movement, every whisper—
as if the world itself were speaking to me.
I can even hear the battle raging outside the cell...
the voices. The footsteps. The breathing.
Three elves.
One woman—probably the fallen princess they mentioned—
facing off against an elven knight and a force of thirty soldiers.
Their exchanges reach me with perfect clarity,
as though they were standing right beside me.
What…?
How can I see through the walls?
And hear things happening so far away?!
Thanks to Lyrian's memories, I now know that it's possible to channel mana into the eyes to enhance vision.
But it's a high-level spell, one that requires years of training and intense focus.
But me…
I extend my hand forward, shaping a circle with my fingers.
As if I were trying to grasp something just beyond reach.
…Except it feels like it's already there, right in my grasp.
"Ha... haha... haha... Hahahaha..."
A nervous laugh slips out. Then another.
Until full-blown laughter erupts from my chest—
the kind that forces your hands to your face, trembling.
Of course...
There's no one else left in the cell.
The three elves I now see off in the distance—
they're the same ones who were locked up with me.
Apparently, they came to rescue that so-called fallen princess.
Or something like that.
But now... none of it matters.
I laugh again.
A dark, twisted laugh.
"Mwahahahahahahahahaha!!"
I have power.
I rise to my feet, eyes wide, brimming with devouring energy.
"...YES! ISN'T THIS THE PERFECT SCENE?!"
---
"Your Majesty, go! Get far from here! We'll hold them off, even if it costs us our lives,"
declared one of the three elves, her voice calm but unwavering.
Standing beside her two comrades, she faced off against exactly thirty-one enemies.
But then—
she noticed something.
A fourth elf.
Standing slightly behind them, keeping her distance, eyes sharply scanning the battlefield.
And then—
a voice tore through the air.
Arrogant. Familiar.
"Hahaha! You bitches... You really thought we wouldn't see your little plan coming?"
It was the man who'd spoken to Arthur back in the cell.
The head of the guards at the slave market.
He stepped forward slowly, lips curled into a cruel smirk.
"Honestly, I was hoping you'd try to run. That way, I'd have the perfect excuse to skin you alive without having to explain a damn thing to my superiors. Hahaha!"
One of the elves replied.
Her voice was ice—sharp, cutting, merciless.
"Shut your filthy mouth, son of a bitch. I'll make you regret you were ever born, you disgusting human trash."
And then—
the air trembled.
A surge of pure, unrestrained killing intent erupted into the atmosphere.
The pressure was suffocating, freezing everyone in place.
Even the guard captain fell silent, his eyes widening in fear.
Everyone froze.
Everyone... except one man.
An elf abruptly turned her head toward the princess and cried out, panic in her voice:
"Princess Iris, you must leave! Quickly, I beg you!"
Her voice carried a sincere, almost desperate urgency.
Elves were renowned for their legendary affinity with mana.
Facing them were nothing but thugs and mercenaries, their aura control questionable at best.
Even their leader, despite a respectable level, stood no chance against three trained elves.
And yet... they were afraid.
Their gazes were fixed on him.
Not the leader. Not the guards.
But the client mentioned earlier.
The one supposed to buy the princess.
He stood there, motionless, looking mildly annoyed, arms crossed.
Calmly, he met the eyes of the four elves without flinching or uttering a word.
Princess Iris finally spoke.
Her voice was calm but resolute.
"I cannot run. Not when the only subjects still loyal to me are risking their lives for my sake."
She was an elf of breathtaking beauty.
Despite her dirty, worn clothes, she radiated an almost unreal elegance.
Her long, slightly tangled pink hair floated in the air like a sacred veil, illuminating the surrounding chaos.
Her pupils, the same shade, softly settled on the three elves forming a protective barrier around her.
"Princess… please, now is not the time to be stubborn... I beg you, that bastard in front of us, he is—"
Iris cut her off with a steady, almost weary voice.
"… Sir Kael? Yes. I know."
A smooth, confident male voice rose slowly, dripping with arrogance.
"So, you recognize me. As expected from a princess."
The man standing before them, known to all as the buyer, wore a mask concealing his entire face.
Slowly, he raised his hand and removed it.
Bright white hair unfolded, long and silky, falling over his shoulders.
And beneath that mask... a face of troubling beauty, almost supernatural.
As beautiful as any elf's.
No... perhaps even more so.
He was a boy, but possessed that rare grace, that cold and noble aura.
He, too, was an elf.
"To think my dear uncle sent a guardian knight across an entire continent just to come and kill me... He truly has no limits,"
Princess Iris said calmly, without a trace of tension in her voice.
He smiled faintly—a smile that was anything but reassuring.
"Don't hold it against me, dear princess."
Slowly, he drew a blade from his side, savoring every second.
A slender, elegant sword—its aura chilling the elves' blood.
The slave guards and their leader burst into laughter.
"Lost your tongue, huh? My girls, please, Mister Kael, at least leave us one elf alive."
Their eyes gleamed with a sickening light—looks filled with lust and cruelty.
The three elves narrowed their eyes.
Their bodies glowed faintly as they focused their mana.
We don't stand a chance...
A guardian knight... against the three of us?
Even together, we wouldn't last.
It's all over.
The princess will die, after all...
Was this whole plan... all this sacrifice... doomed from the start?
"Yes, princess, I'm only following—"
Kael suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Huh...?
Before anyone could make sense of what was happening, all eyes instinctively turned toward the building's entrance.
Princess Iris, Kael, the three elves... even the bandit leader.
All frozen, without exception.
Silence fell.
An overwhelming pressure filled the space.
A bead of sweat traced down Kael's cheek.
The leader's breath became ragged.
The elves trembled, collapsing to their knees without understanding why.
Iris too fell, hands on the ground, eyes wide with shock.
A voice rang out—calm, sharp, echoing like a verdict.
"When a predator meets its prey... several emotions flood that prey: fear, confusion, and that pitiful desire to survive."
One step. Then another.
"Do not be confused... The emotions overwhelming you now are perfectly natural.
What you feel... is nothing but the raw truth every prey faces when confronting its predator."
A figure slowly emerged from the shadows.
A small, clear yet charismatic voice resonated from the entrance.
"Princess Iris... tell me. How much is your life worth?"
Iris slowly lifted her eyes, still kneeling, trembling.
"Who... who are you?" she whispered, unable to see clearly the speaker.
The figure paused. Then a slight laugh escaped his lips.
"Who I am...?"
He stepped forward, letting his body be enveloped in a blood-red aura.
His gestures were grand, exaggerated—like a conductor leading his final symphony.
"Hahaha... I am Lyri—... no."
With a sudden dramatic flourish, he threw his arms wide.
"I am… AL CAPONE!"
...
Total silence.
A monumental blank.
Even the mana seemed suspended in the air, confused.
What?