{Valekar Empire, Valekar Imperial Palace, Imperial Crown Palace}
Alex slowly pried his eyelids open, his head splitting with an unbearable ache.
Sunlight that slipped through the gaps of the thick velvet curtains, was far too bright for his newly opened eyes so he snapped it shut before slowly opening his eyes again.
The golden rays from the sun illuminated the lavish canopy above him as well as the dragons carved into the golden frames and the silken sheets beneath his hands.
'Wait a minute… where is this? Why am I in this unfamiliar place? Who brought me here?' Alex panicked for less than a second before soon he quickly calmed down.
He closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep to give himself sometime to think… 'Is this another kidnapping for ransom?'
'Hmm… or maybe a rival… better still one of those unqualified bastards trying to force me to work for them... they better come in here and get this over with and stop wasting my precious time.'
The young man's real name was Alex Hamilton the Great, founder of 'The Greatest's Industries'… yes, you read that right.
But when you are the youngest genuinely self-made trillionaire… blessed with the face of Eros, a body sculpted by the Greek gods and a playboy's mindset… and yet a philanthropist who has successfully privatized on entire nation, with statues of yourself in every country you've graced with your presence and entire museums and labs dedicated to you alone… yes you get the right to trademark the name 'The Greatest's'.
Just a moment ago he was lounging on his private beach before getting ready for another meeting with his children. And yet in a blink of an eye, he had somehow awoken here.
He opened his eyes but before he could examine the room more closely… an immense amount of memories surged into his mind like a tidal wave.
Alex's hands flew to his head as a stabbing pain greater than the previous headache tore through his skull.
Memories that were not his own… strange yet terrifyingly vivid to be a dream or virtual reality… forced themselves into place merging with his memories.
He slowly sorted through them and the truth dawned on him.
He had transmigrated.
And not just to a random identity but to an emperor… The Emperor of Valekar Empire… Alexander Maximus Valekar.
While at first glance this might be cool and all… that is until you hear the backstory.
The title of emperor in this empire was truly a lost cause… The issue didn't even start with this emperor or even the previous generation.
Nope… It started several generations ago. His great grandfather… Emperor Rhevan V, decided to enter a magical ruin along with some of the most loyal masters that served under him in an effort to pursue the Rank of Grandmaster.
'Yep, you guessed right, they were all wiped out drastically reducing the number of direct masters of the imperial family and destroying the imperial family's foundation and leaving his grandfather, Emperor Rhevan VI to a very weak throne.'
Somehow, Emperor Rhevan VI was able to stabilize the throne with the help of his wives' families and the Imperial Guard but his focus on stabilizing the throne prevented him from focusing on his training causing him to pass the twilight of his years and never able to breakthrough to master.
Oh, it takes a downturn from there… realizing he could never step into the rank of Master, Emperor Rhevan VI decided to focus on his sons and eventually sent some of them along with a contingent of Imperial guards to secure resources required for their training but they never returned.
Broken-hearted, his training went wrong and he died… Emperor Rhevan VII took the throne.
He soon realized that he would also face the same issue as his father before him did for one simple reason.
'One must have the power of a master to command other masters.'
He forced himself into training and was also eventually killed by a backlash.
His son, Alexander's elder brother… Rhevan VIII became the emperor… ruled for a few years and abdicated before fleeing to his mother's family after realizing just how hopeless it was.
Self-proclaimed Rhevan the IX was next, another of Alexander's brother who took the throne, lost some of the imperial guards realized how hopeless it was and also fled.
His predecessor Alexander not willing to let the family line end took power a few months ago…
Well he finally died… not because of an attack or poison but because of stress.
Alex's… no… actually, yes, Alexander's mouth twitched as the memory of this pathetic history flashed through his mind.
To make it worse this was not a world where nuclear weapons or political speeches alone decided the fate of billions either.
Power here was far more personal.
It was a world ruled by mana, by martial strength, and by those rare individuals capable of wielding abilities that bent common sense. Influence was not inherited by title alone.
To truly have a voice, one had to rise above the masses and step into the ranks of power.
Initiate.
Adept.
Intermediate.
Expert.
And finally… Master.
Those who failed to reach at least the lower ranks lived at the mercy of those who did.
Strength could be cultivated in two ways.
The first was the martial path. It was the most common, relying on relentless physical training and brutal conditioning. Martial cultivators infused mana directly into their bodies, strengthening muscles, bones, and organs.
The techniques they practiced determined what they excelled at. Speed, endurance, raw strength, or resilience.
The price was pain. Real pain. Enough to cripple the careless or kill the unlucky.
The second was the mana path.
Far rarer and far more dangerous.
Mana cultivators focused on controlling energy rather than their bodies, drawing in ambient mana, refining it, and shaping it into spells.
Their abilities depended not only on their techniques, but also on their natural attributes. Fire, wind, earth, water, and countless variations beyond that. With enough mastery, a single spell could devastate entire battlefields.
That was why mana users were treasured, feared, and tightly controlled.
And at the very top stood the Masters, beings so overwhelming that ordinary fighters could not even resist their presence. Against them, numbers meant little. Power alone dictated authority.
This was the world Alexander Maximus Valekar had awakened into.
On the Sun continent… strength was the only law.
Even the founder of Valekar… used his powerful Master rank might to carve out the foundation of the Valekar Empire.
Unfortunately, now the title of emperor was hollow.
Across the continent, powerful kingdoms and empires thrived. Among them one of the Supreme powers was The Sun God Theocracy.
They were the oldest and the most widespread given the form it took… so old that the entire continent was named after it.
They had dozens of Master ranked powerhouses under their banner with three being in the Valekar empire itself. Not to mention their Pope who was rumoured to have stepped into the fabled rank of above master.
Under his rule, they had expanded endlessly, planting puppet rulers across the continent… Valekar Empire was most definitely one of them.
On the surface, the empire seemed wealthy with fertile lands and numerous people and hefty taxes, but they were in fact poor.
With ninety percent of the empire's resources and taxes been siphoned away pathetically disguised as offerings, tithes and special collections.
'Yep, special collections, now to think about it… I am very sure they are the culprit behind the missing imperial members from the previous generations not to mention the assassination of two of his talented elder brothers.'
Of the pitiful remainder, corrupt officials stole almost all of it and by the time it reached the imperial treasury barely five percent remained and that was just from the capital as for the other 95 provinces nothing.
Alexander sighed and rolled around in his bed, 'I can see why the other siblings ran. Anyone would also run given their situation but not me… Fortunately, you have been graced with the presence of Alex Hamilton the Great.'
'But still, it will take a long while.' Yes, he was arrogant but not stupid.
And then it came.
[DING]