"I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!"

Deep beneath the castle of Austerra, hidden away from the golden spires and the bustling markets above, stretched a vast labyrinth of cold and endless prison cells.

The air was damp, heavy with mold and iron, and the only sounds that echoed through the winding passages were the rattling of chains, the shuffle of weary footsteps, and the occasional scream that died too quickly.

This was no ordinary prison. It was a grave for the living, a place where hope rotted faster than flesh.

Hundreds were thrown into these dungeons- criminals, innocents, rebels, and even children. To the tyrant King, guilt mattered little.

All who opposed his will found themselves here.

Among them was Robert.

On the far eastern wing of the labyrinth, in a cell so deep that sunlight had long forgotten, there he remained chained.

His body was a husk of what it once was- skin stretched tight over bones, scars layered upon scars, his frame trembling from years of torment.

Yet in his eyes, there still burned a stubborn light, a fire that refused to die.

Three years ago, Robert had stood as a beacon of truth on Austerra.

After years of secret investigation and collecting proffs and witnesses, he emerged from the mystical woods of Runewood carrying evidence that shook Austerra to its core.

He revealed the King's dealings with a shadowy group known as the Dark Fate- an organization that wormed into kingdoms, bribed nobles, and bled nations from within.

Robert exposed their atrocities: abductions of men, women, and children; forbidden experiments; blood-soaked bargains with corrupt rulers.

Worst of all, he proved that King Auborn himself had not only allowed the Dark Fate to nest inside Austerra but had personally benefited from their rise.

Part of it is the annihilation of the Katana household, the same household where Princess Austaire came from.

The people hailed him as a hero, their voices rising in defiance against the throne. But that was only for a brief moment, the kingdom dared to dream of freedom.

But the Dark Fate's reach was long, and their vengeance swift. Together with the authority and power of the King, the hope for revolution quickly died down.

Within a single night, the uprising was crushed.

Those who dared to speak were silenced- executed in public squares or dragged to these dungeons.

Robert was spared, though not out of mercy.

A certain figure within the Dark Fate demanded he be kept alive, believing his knowledge of Runewood, and its elusive elves too valuable to waste.

Not to mention he knows the whereabouts of the third prince, whom they had been seeking until now.

So began the torment.

Day after day, the torturers worked their craft, tearing at his flesh and mind to pry secrets from him.

Yet Robert endured.

He endured when they broke his bones. He endured when they carved his skin. He endured when they starved him, when they mocked him, when they promised him release in death if only he spoke.

And for three years, he said nothing. It was a brutal and painful 'nothing' for the sake of protecting Auren— his last family.

Robert looked worse than any beggar on the streets above. His rags hung loose over his skeletal frame. His hair, long and matted, stuck to his filthy skin.

His stench filled the air like rot. Yet when he whispered the names of those he loved

"Marissa… Auren…".

His voice carried more strength than the hammer of any guard.

Clang-

The screech of iron chains broke the silence.

The heavy cell door groaned open, and a towering figure stepped inside.

A familiar prison guard, broad-shouldered and reeking of stale ale, clutched a massive spiked hammer that dripped with fresh blood. His eyes gleamed with cruelty as he sneered at Robert.

"Alright, dog. Today's your last chance. Spit your hidden shits if you want to see the sun one more time. Stay quiet, and I'll crush what's left of your pathetic life against this wall."

He lifted the hammer, letting its spikes scrape across Robert's cheek until they dug into his skin.

WHAM

Blood trickled down his jaw.

Robert winced but made no sound. It's just another Tuesday for him in the prison.

His wrists and ankles were bound in heavy chains, his body too weak to resist.

Still, he raised his gaze and stared at the ceiling as though the guard were nothing but an insect buzzing in his ear.

"I'll only ask you one more time," the guard snarled, pressing the spikes of his hammer harder into Robert's cheek until thin trails of blood trickled down.

"How did you sneak into Runewood, and where is the third prince hiding?"

Robert tilted his head slightly, his breathing ragged, yet the corners of his lips pulled into the faintest smirk.

He didn't waste a word. His silence cut deeper than any weapon, as if mocking the man's fury.

"You stupid piece of dog shit!"

WHAM!

Once again, the hammer slammed into his side with a sickening crack, launching him against the damp stone wall. The impact rattled through his bones, and blood sprayed from his mouth, staining the dirt at his feet.

Again, it's no big deal. Death for him is nothing but a reward.

Pain seared across his ribs like fire, but he gritted his teeth and refused to give the guard the satisfaction of a scream.

Robert endured. He always endured.

"You think this is a game, huh?" the guard roared, veins bulging on his neck.

"That witch Marissa cussed us to spare your miserable life. She claimed you had answers about the third prince! But for three years, three f*cking cursed years, and you've said nothing! I doubt that brat's even alive anymore!"

WHAM!

The next blow hammered into his back, forcing the air from his lungs.

Ugh~

His vision blurred, black dots swarming at the edges. His body trembled violently, every muscle screaming in protest. Yet when he lifted his face, battered and bloodied, his eyes still burned.

Though red with exhaustion and streaked with tears of blood, they glared back at the guard with the same unyielding defiance that had carried them through years of torment.

"It's because of you I'm stuck rotting in this cesspool," the guard spat, swinging again. "But this time will be different. Once I end you, I'll finally be free! No one will question me when I say your body gave out."

This time, he aimed for Robert's chest, his grip tightening on the hammer. The swing was heavy enough to crush bone.

Yet Robert didn't flinch. In fact he was waiting for this!

"Die, you cockroach!" the guard hissed.

The hammer began to descend-

And froze.

"Shit- "

The guard's entire body locked up, trembling as a suffocating wave of killing intent coming from behind.

His throat closed, his breath caught, and cold sweat poured down his back. Slowly, he turned.

A mysterious looking figure stood in the shadows just beyond the doorway. Covered in dark clothes but with a symbol of the Dark Fate on his left cheek.

"Do you not value your life?" the voice asked, calm yet dripping with malice.

The guard dropped to his knees instantly, stammering. "N-no! You misunderstand- I was only… only scaring him! You know, just doing my job!"

The figure raised a hand and flicked his finger.

SLAM!

The guard's body flew like a ragdoll, smashing headfirst into the wall. Blood and teeth splattered across the floor. He groaned, tears welling in his eyes, before scrambling to bow.

"M-my apologies, sir!" he whimpered, choking on his own blood.

"Get out of my sight," the figure ordered, his voice low and venomous. "Before I bury you here and now."

The guard clutched his broken jaw, cursing silently as he stumbled out of the cell, leaving Robert alone with the stranger.

Robert's weak eyes lifted, shifting from defiance to burning hatred. His lips trembled as he whispered, "You should have let him kill me."

The figure chuckled. "No. We've kept you alive for a reason. And now… the harvest is near."

Robert's heart sank.

His gaunt face, hardened by years of torture, flickered with genuine fear.

'Don't tell me… have they caught him?'

The man's smirk widened, as though reading his thoughts.

"We've found traces," he said. "The third prince… the freak with no Divine Frame. We know he is still alive. Our men are hunting him even now. Soon, he will join you in this cell."

"You think I will fall for this stupid lie?" Robert spat, though his voice cracked.

"Believe what you will," the man sneered. "But when we drag him here, I'll personally take your heads. Both of you. And I'll deliver them to Marissa together with a bouquet of flowers. Only then will she sever her foolish ties and embrace the Dark Fate as she should."

His eyes glimmered with twisted satisfaction. "And when she does, she will stand by my side. Together, she and I will rule as the the pillars of Dark Fate… then we shall live happily ever after."

He laughed as he swung the door shut, the metallic clang echoing like a death knell. There's no need to lock it; after all, there's no escaping the guards on the exit doors. Not to mention, Robert barely has the strength to stand up now.

Robert slumped against the wall, blood dripping down his chin. His breath came ragged, his thoughts racing.

'No… Auren...'Sweat mingled with the dirt on his face.

'Please, don't come to Austerra!'

Meanwhile, the mysterious man stepped out of the prison cell, his expression twisted with frustration. Waiting at the top of the stairs was none other than their leader, Magnus, the Frozen Monarch. His gaze was as glacial as ever, his very presence carrying that same heavy, unreadable power that always made the air feel colder.

"I assume he didn't fall for your lie," Magnus remarked calmly, catching the man's expression before adding with a flat tone, "I warned you, Jembook. That one will only waste your time. Focus on your mission. We leave for the capital soon."

"The capital?" Jembook asked, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "Isn't it too dangerous for us?" He had just returned from interrogating Robert, though his resentment came not from loyalty to Magnus's cause, but from something far more personal- his quiet infatuation with Marissa, the woman Robert had stolen all his thoughts of.

Magnus's eyes narrowed faintly. "There is someone with a unique class there…" he said, before turning away without another word.

Jembook followed silently, no longer daring to press further. He knew Magnus too well- when the Frozen Monarch's patience thinned, questions became liabilities.

***

Far above, the streets of Austerra bustled with life. Merchants shouted from their stalls, children darted between alleys, and guards patrolled with iron gazes.

Few spared a thought for the dungeons below their feet.

Through the crowd, two figures walked with purpose, their Divine Frames glowing faintly above their heads.

One was Nathan, a tall young knight whose confident stride parted the crowd before him. At his side walked Angela, her armor gleaming faintly beneath her cloak.

Nathan's whispered. "Let's start."

"Leave it to me."

And they both separated towards their individual destinations.