Reincarnated as the disaster prince

The lecture hall buzzed with the low hum of students packing their belongings, a cacophony of rustling papers and murmured chatter. Theodore stood, adjusting his tunic with a practiced grace that betrayed none of his exhaustion. As he slung his satchel over his shoulder, a hand shot out to grab his wrist. He turned sharply, his piercing gaze meeting Jin's trembling figure.

Jin's face was pale, his hands shaking as he clung to Theodore's sleeve. Despite the fear in his eyes, he managed to stammer, "W-Well… what changed you? How did you become this strong?"

Theodore's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "By training," he replied simply.

"You think I'll believe that?" Jin yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. Realizing he had raised his voice, he quickly composed himself and adjusted his glasses. "I'm sorry, my prince," he muttered. "It's just… I'm desperate. I'm weak, pathetic. I can't even stand up to the nobles who bully me."

Theodore tilted his head, his expression unyielding. "How does that affect me?" he asked, his tone cold. "Focus on yourself, Jin. You look pathetic. Weak."

Jin flinched at the words, but Theodore wasn't finished. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down Jin's spine. "No one will save you forever. You'd better start thinking of a way to save yourself."

With that, Theodore turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jin frozen in place. Yet, as Theodore's words echoed in his mind, a small smile tugged at Jin's lips. The prince's brutal honesty stung, but it sparked something deep within him—a glimmer of determination.

Theodore made his way to the dormitory, his thoughts swirling. His mind was a tangled web of frustration. First, his brother Caden was obsessed with becoming his rival. Now, Jin was spouting nonsense about self-improvement. Even the principal was constantly watching him, and students who once mocked him were now fawning over him after his victory over Caden.

Humans are so predictable, he mused. A little show of power, and their attitudes shifted like leaves in the wind. Some admired him, others hated him, but none of it mattered. Relationships were just strings waiting to be cut.

Entering his room, Theodore was greeted by Belial and Mimi, his loyal shadow servants. The two knelt as he stepped inside, their voices in unison. "Welcome back, my prince."

Theodore stretched his neck with a faint groan and dropped into a chair. "Stressful," he muttered. "My brother thinks he's my rival."

Belial chuckled, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Do you wish to make him your enemy, my lord?"

Theodore smirked. "Caden is insignificant. But I won't underestimate him. Even the smallest insect can bite when ignored."

Belial nodded, his expression approving. "You're wise as always, my lord."

Changing the subject, Belial informed Theodore about Roman, the mysterious principal. "We crossed paths today," he said. "I dislike him."

"Did he say anything?"

"No, but I've seen him before. Decades ago—no, centuries."

Theodore's eyes narrowed. "A human who's lived for hundreds of years? Interesting. Find out everything you can about him."

Belial bowed. "As you command."

Mimi, the shadow maid, spoke next, her voice soft. "My prince, I discovered something during my errand in the market. I encountered two men—my brothers."

Theodore raised an eyebrow. "Your brothers?"

"Yes," Mimi continued. "This body's memories… they were real. The owner of this vessel was the daughter of an assassin clan."

Theodore's expression shifted, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "A fascinating revelation. Prepare yourself, Mimi. This body will serve its purpose soon. I've devised a trap for the queen,I hope she loves the little gift."

As the shadows busied themselves, Theodore began his training. He summoned a shadow entity, its presence filling the room with an oppressive chill. The entity handed him rare alchemical ingredients, which Scholar Shadow— was skilled in dark magic—used to brew a potent potion.

Theodore sat cross-legged in the blood-drawn magic circle, the thick metallic scent of his own sacrifice filling the air. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the flickering black flames of the enchanted ritual. Closing his eyes, he delved into the illusion realm—a distorted battlefield that mirrored his deepest fears and desires.

When his consciousness fully immersed in the realm, he found himself standing amidst a desolate wasteland. The sky above churned with dark clouds, illuminated by crackling arcs of violet lightning. There, not far from him, stood his opponent: himself.

The doppelgänger smirked, its expression a twisted caricature of Theodore's own confidence. The reflection was perfect—same piercing gaze, same sharp jawline—but its aura was suffocating. Where Theodore's power smoldered, controlled yet potent, his opponent's surged wildly, radiating untamed fury.

Without warning, the copy launched forward, its blade a streak of light. Theodore barely had time to summon his own weapon—a sleek black sword shimmering with dark mana. Their blades collided with a deafening clang, the shockwave ripping apart the ground beneath their feet.

Theodore gritted his teeth as he held his ground. Sparks flew as their swords locked, each pouring mana into the clash. "You think you can stop me?" the copy sneered, its voice dripping with malice. "You're nothing but a shadow of what you could be."

Snarling, Theodore pushed back, forcing the copy to leap away. "I'll show you," he growled. "I'll surpass even my limits."

The two clashed again, their movements blurring with speed. Theodore aimed for the copy's chest with a diagonal slash, but his opponent twisted effortlessly, dodging the strike and countering with a quick thrust. Theodore parried, the force vibrating through his arms, and retaliated with a spin kick. The blow landed, sending the copy skidding back.

But his triumph was short-lived. The doppelgänger recovered mid-air, flipping gracefully before charging again. This time, its sword crackled with aura, a blazing trail of blue energy slicing through the air. Theodore barely managed to block the strike, but the sheer force shattered his blade into fragments.

Stumbling back, he glared at his opponent. The copy smirked, brandishing its unscathed weapon. "What's wrong? Is this all the 'Prince of Shadows' can do?"

Theodore's chest heaved with effort. Anger flared in his veins, but he forced himself to focus. Summoning his mana, he forged another sword—this one heavier, jagged, pulsing with his dark energy. "You'll regret underestimating me," he snarled.

The two charged at each other, their blades meeting with an earth-shattering impact. The ground beneath them splintered as waves of energy exploded outward, creating craters in the barren wasteland. Theodore grunted under the strain, his arms trembling as he pushed against the copy's relentless power. His mind raced. It's as strong as me in every way—but it's just an illusion. I have to outsmart it.

He feinted a retreat, letting the copy overextend its strike. As the doppelgänger's blade slashed downward, Theodore sidestepped and slammed his elbow into its ribcage, sending it staggering. Without giving it a chance to recover, he infused his sword with mana and drove it forward in a piercing strike aimed at the heart.

The copy twisted at the last second, the blade grazing its side instead of landing a fatal blow. Its expression contorted with rage. "You'll pay for that."

Theodore had no time to respond. The copy unleashed a barrage of strikes, each faster and more precise than the last. Theodore dodged and parried as best as he could, but one particularly vicious swing managed to slice across his shoulder. He hissed in pain, clutching the wound as blood seeped through his tunic.

The copy laughed, circling him like a predator. "This is where you fall."

But Theodore wasn't finished. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, feeling the mana coursing through his body. He let the pain sharpen his focus. When he opened his eyes, they burned with determination.

"Not yet," he said, his voice low and dangerous. His aura surged, darker and more potent than ever before. The wasteland trembled as cracks spiderwebbed across the ground, and the air grew heavy with the weight of his unleashed power.

The copy hesitated, its smirk faltering. That was all Theodore needed. He surged forward, his movements blindingly fast, and delivered a devastating upward slash. The copy barely blocked, but the force of the attack sent it flying. Before it could recover, Theodore was upon it again, raining down strikes with relentless precision.

"You're just a shadow," Theodore growled. "I'll surpass you and everything you represent!"

With one final, earth-shaking blow, his blade cleaved through the copy's sword, shattering it into fragments. The doppelgänger stumbled back, its eyes wide with shock. Theodore didn't hesitate. He drove his blade through its chest, and the copy let out a guttural scream before dissolving into mist.

Back in the real world, Theodore gasped as he opened his eyes. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Around him, the shadows clapped, their movements eerie and silent. Belial stepped forward, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride.

"You've done it, my prince," he said, bowing. "You've surpassed your limits."

Theodore sat up slowly, a faint smile on his lips. But as the satisfaction of victory settled in, his expression hardened. "It's not enough," he muttered. "Scholar Shadow, the potion."

The shadow handed him the alchemical brew. Without hesitation, Theodore drank it, bracing himself for what was to come. The potion coursed through his veins like molten fire, and agony tore through his body. He clenched his teeth, suppressing the scream that threatened to escape.

Electric shocks wracked his body, each one stronger than the last. His vision blurred, but he refused to succumb. Closing his eyes, he visualized his mana flow—a river of energy that ran sluggishly through his veins. He reached for it, commanding it to move faster, to form the perfect circle.

Time lost meaning as he battled his own limitations. Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes. Finally, with a surge of dark energy, the mana circles within him solidified—two of them, glowing with power.

When he opened his eyes, his shadows were kneeling before him, their voices filled with awe. "You are destined for greatness, my prince," Belial said, his tone reverent. "The world will tremble before you."

Theodore stood, his body humming with newfound power. He didn't smile this time. Instead, his gaze hardened with resolve. This is only the beginning.