[Location: The Imperial Palace - The Chamber of Reflections]
It's Cold.
That was the first sensation. Not the cold of winter, but the cold of a dying body on the brink of death.
"Ugh..."
A groan escaped his lips. It sounded weak. Pathetic.
The man who had been Rex—the Apex Gamer among gamers, the strategist among strategists who had conquered a thousand virtual worlds—opened his eyes.
His eyes blurred.
His vision floated. He wasn't in his ergonomic gaming chair, which he used to sit. He wasn't looking at his triple-monitor setup, which he used to play his games.
He was lying on a cold, polished stone floor, so smooth it looked like black glass. Above him, an arched ceiling stretched high, painted with murals of dragons and knights.
Rex blinked his eyes. Once. Twice.
His brain, trained to process information at 144 frames per second, instantly analysed the situation he was in.
'Breathing: Shallow. Heart rate: Slow. Body temperature: Low. Poison?'
He tried to sit up. His body felt heavy, like he was wearing a suit of heavy armour. He looked down at his hands.
They were pale like a vampire. Almost translucent. The fingers were long, slender, and elegant—the hands of someone who had never worked a day in his entire life.
'These aren't my hands,' Rex thought. His internal voice was calm, detached. 'Transmigration? Reincarnation? A dive-simulation glitch in the game I played?'
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his skull.
"Argh...!"
Memories flooded in, not his own memories but someone else's.
Primoriel Valtherion.
Third Prince of the Valtherion Empire.
Age: 19.
Status: Trash among Trash.
Talent: None.
The memories played like a fast-forwarded movie. He saw faces mocking him. He saw his father, the Emperor, looking at him with cold disappointment. He saw his brothers, the First and Second Princes, cursing him in the training yard.
"You are a stain on our bloodline, Primoriel."
"Go back to your room, trash."
"Why don't you just die?"
And finally, the last memory. A glass of wine. A smiling servant. The bitter taste of almonds.
'Poison,' Rex realised. 'Primoriel didn't just die. He was intentionally murdered.'
Rex sat there on the cold floor, absorbing the life and memories of the dead prince. Most people would panic. They would scream, cry, or question, even curse the god.
But Rex didn't.
He slowly pushed himself up. He stood to his full height—seven feet of lean, wasted potential. He walked over to a tall mirror hanging on the wall.
The reflection stared back.
Jet black hair that fell over his forehead. Pale, sickly skin. But the bone structure was perfect. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline. It was the face of a fallen angel banished from the heavens.
But the eyes, his eyes...
The eyes were different now.
Because the old Primoriel had dull, fearful brown eyes.
Rex's eyes were Crimson. Deep, blood-red pools that seemed to glow in the dim light.
He tilted his head, studying the new avatar.
"Hmmm...Well...Efficient body build, Long reach. Good centre of gravity. Muscle degeneration is severe, but fixable."
He wasn't looking at a body. He was looking at a Character Sheet.
And then, it happened.
ZZZZT!
A sound like static electricity buzzed in his ears. A blue light broke the air in front of him, assembling itself into a translucent holographic screen.
[ System Booting... ]
[ Identity Confirmed: Rex (User 001). ]
[Synchronising with Host Body: Primoriel Valtherion. ]
Rex didn't flinch. He didn't jump back. He just watched, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
[Synchronisation Complete. ]
[ Welcome, Sir. ]
The voice wasn't robotic. It was smooth, crisp, and slightly British. It sounded like a loyal butler.
"Report," Rex said simply.
[ Absolutely, Sir. You have successfully transmigrated into the world of 'Aethelgard'. Currently, you are in the Chamber of Reflections. You have been unconscious for three hours. The poison has been neutralised by the System, though your HP is critically low. ]
Rex nodded. "And what's the situation outside?"
[ Terrible, Sir. In approximately ten minutes, the Royal Guards will enter this room. They expect to find your dead body. When they find you alive, they are instructed to drag you to the Throne Room for the 'Trial of Worth'. ]
"The Trial of Worth," Rex murmured, accessing the memory.
Ah, yes. The Trial.
It was a public ceremony where the Emperor would judge his sons. Today was the day Primoriel was supposed to be officially disowned. Stripped of his princely title. Exiled to the Wastelands to die or survive on his own.
It was a setup. A public execution of his social status.
[ Correct, Sir. The probability of you retaining your title is 0.0001%. The probability of an assassination attempt on you #2 occurring within the next hour is 98% confirmed. ]
Rex walked back to the mirror. He adjusted the collar of his black shirt. He smoothed down his hair.
"Zero per cent?" Rex asked.
[ Yes, Sir. You have no allies to support you. No mana core to defend yourself. No military support backing you. You are, statistically speaking, 'A Complete Trash'. ]
Rex looked at his reflection. For the first time, the corners of his lips curled up.
It wasn't a happy smile. It was cold. Sharp.
It was the smile of a player who had just found a glitch in a Boss Fight.
"Jarvis—I mean, System."
[ I am the Primordial System, Sir. But you may call me what you wish. ]
"System," Rex said softly. "Show me my Stats that you say I'm complete trash."
[ Displaying Status Window... ]
Name: Primoriel Valtherion (Rex)
Race: Human (?)
Class: None
Level: 1
Strength: 3 (Average: 10)
Agility: 4 (Average: 10)
Mana: 0
Charm: 20 (MAX)
Unique Trait: [Gamer's Mind] (Passive) - Immune to psychological status effects.
"Pathetic, but the Charm is useful," he noted.
[ Sir, I detect some movement outside the door. The Guards are here. ]
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy boots marched down the hallway. Metal armour clanking.
Rex turned away from the mirror. He didn't look scared because he looked... bored.
"System," Rex said, his voice dropping a tone. "What is the penalty for killing a Royal Guard?"
[ Death, Sir. ]
"Good."
He picked up a heavy silver candlestick from the table. He weighed it in his hand.
"Then let's start the game."
BAM!
The heavy oak doors flew open.
Two guards in golden armour marched in. They had arrogant smirks on their faces. They expected to see a dead boy foaming at the mouth.
Instead, they saw a seven-foot shadow standing in the centre of the room.
Crimson eyes glowing in the dark.
"You..." The lead guard stuttered, his hand going to his sword. "You're alive?"
Primoriel (Rex) tilted his head.
"Am I?"
He took one step forward. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The air felt heavy, suffocating.
"You are late," Primoriel said. His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made the guards freeze. "My father is waiting to see me, right?"
The guard swallowed hard. He didn't know why, but his instincts were screaming at him to run. This wasn't the trash prince they knew. This was something else completely different.
"Y-Yes, Your Highness," the guard stammered, stepping aside.
Primoriel walked past them. He didn't look at them. He didn't acknowledge their existence. He walked with the easy, terrifying grace of a predator that knew it had no natural enemies.
[ Intimidation Successful. ]
[ First Move Complete. ]
As he walked down the long corridor toward the Throne Room, Rex's mind was already three steps ahead.
'The Emperor wants a show, right? I'll give him a show.'
[ New Quest Generated: The Throne Room Entrance ]
[ Objective: Survive the Trial. ]
[ Bonus Objective: Humiliate an Enemy. ]
[ Reward: Starter Pack. ]
Rex's crimson eyes narrowed.
"Accept."