the reluctant prince of rebirth

The grand meeting hall buzzed with the tension of the gathered leaders. Prince Marcus stood at the head of the table, his composed face masking the pressure that threatened to weigh him down. Seraphina stood beside him, calm and regal, her presence silently reassuring her brother.

Marcus cleared his throat, his voice steady as he addressed the room. "First, I want to thank you all for coming. The matters we discuss today concern the survival of all our nations."

Before Marcus could continue, Drakos V, King of the Draknir Empire, spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"I don't know why you called this meeting," Drakos said coldly, leaning back in his chair, his crimson eyes narrowing. "You are the weakest of all the nations here. Why should we take orders from you?"

The room fell silent.

A faint tremor of anger flickered across Marcus's face, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. His father's words echoed in his mind: A king must rule his emotions, not let them rule him.

Marcus replied evenly, "We have bigger issues at hand than pride, King Drakos. The demon threat isn't something we can ignore.

Didn't you see the projection of what happened to that city in the Holy Kingdom?"

Drakos's expression didn't change, though a flicker of something—concern, perhaps—passed through his gaze.

"So?" he said nonchalantly. "I still can't believe that old pope let something like that happen in his kingdom."

Before Marcus could respond, a heavy boom of holy energy erupted from Saint Elara Celestine.

Her aura flared like a beacon of light, pressing against the room.

"Do not disrespect the Pope," Elara said, her voice sharp and dangerous, her piercing gaze locked on Drakos. "Or I will come over there and rip that tongue from your mouth."

Drakos, for the first time, seemed genuinely entertained. A low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

"You? A little girl still wet behind the ears? If you've got the confidence to threaten me, come over here and show me."

His own oppressive aura burst forth in response, a wave of suffocating pressure that settled over the room. Elara's eyes narrowed, her hand twitching toward the hilt of her sword.

And then, without warning, Drakos's aura vanished, and he reclined back into his seat with a smirk. "My apologies. I was outspoken."

Marcus blinked, stunned.

For Drakos V to apologize was unheard of. A man so prideful would rather die than lower his head. What just happened?

The only person who could make him back down is... Marcus's thoughts trailed off. 

The Great Dragon, Saryndralia. But she isn't here.

Before anyone could question further, a booming voice broke the tension. Kael Ironfist, Thane of the Ironhide Tribe, leaned forward with a growl.

"I agree with the dragon warrior," Kael said gruffly.

"Why is the weakest nation hosting this meeting? Everyone in this room is weak except for him—" He pointed toward Drakos. "—and the ugly woman over there."

Elara's aura flared again as she bristled at the insult. "Ugly?"

Kael shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Yeah. You don't have enough meat on your bones. Do you even eat?"

Marcus's fists clenched at his sides, his anger bubbling again. Before he could snap, Seraphina stepped forward, her voice firm but composed.

"We are not here to squabble like children, Thane Kael," she said. "If we do not unite against the demon threat, we will all fall, one by one."

Kael snorted, scratching his scarred jaw.

"Fine. I only came because that damned frost witch Ysella beat me in rock-paper-scissors." He crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath.

"Cheating magic users." Marcus glanced toward Seraphina, who nodded at him to continue. Steeling himself, Marcus addressed the room. "We must form an alliance to stand against the Demon King. Alone, we cannot win.

Together, we might stand a chance."

The gathered leaders exchanged glances. One by one, they began to speak.

Drakos V was the first. "I don't care for weaklings. But this demon is a problem. I will allow it."

Saint Elara Celestine nodded as well. "The Holy Kingdom will aid this alliance. We cannot let such darkness continue unchecked."

Aerion Sylvaen, the Verdant Vale's prince, tilted his head, his expression neutral. "I would like to say yes, but it may be difficult. Our race has... complicated feelings toward humans." He paused, letting his words linger.

"But I will send a letter to my mother. If she agrees, the Verdant Vale will join this alliance.", he sigh clearly ready for the meeting to end. "Until then, consider it pending."

Sahira al-Ziraf, Sultan of the Khaeran Confederacy replied saying I'm on board count me in ,then she yawned waiting for the meeting to be over so she can rest it was long journey for her.

Kael Ironfist cracked his knuckles, shrugging. "Fine. I'll do it. But the other tribes will need to agree first."

Finally, Thorin Emberforge, the son of the Dwarven King, stood up and grinned. "We've already agreed to help.

You'll have the dwarves by your side." Marcus released a quiet breath of relief. "Thank you all. Before we part ways, let us hold a feast in your honor."

As the leaders began to leave the hall, laughter and chatter filling the air, Rein quietly approached Sahira al-Ziraf, Sultan of the Khaeran Confederacy. The woman's golden robes swayed as she turned to face him, her sharp amber eyes softening when they met Rein's.

"Well, if it isn't a little prince," Sahira said, a smile tugging at her lips. She reached down, ruffling his hair.

"You must be Prince Rein. What do you need, young one?"

Rein looked up at her, his tone polite but eager. "I wanted to express my respect, Sultan Sahira. I've read about you in books and newspapers. You're an amazing person."

Sahira raised a brow, clearly amused. "Oh? Flattery will get you far, little prince."

Rein's face grew more serious.

"There's something else. A while ago, you put a mathematical problem in the papers. You promised a wish to whoever solved it."

Her smile faltered slightly, curiosity lighting her features.

"You... read about that?" "Yes," Rein said confidently. "And I solved it."

Sahira blinked, the smile slipping completely. "Solved it?"

"I wrote the answer here." Rein pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper and handed it to her.

Sahira unfolded the paper and stared at it, her eyes widening. The problem she had devised was no ordinary one—it involved complex alchemical ratios, derivative calculus, and abstract geometric formulas all layered together. Even she hadn't yet solved it.

This boy...

She looked back at Rein, astonishment in her gaze. "You're telling me you solved this? A six-year-old?"

Rein grinned. "Yes. I did the math step by step. It was fun."

Sahira's lips parted as she reread the page, her mind reeling. "Impossible..."

And yet, the answer was correct.

Sahira looked down at the boy with a mix of shock and admiration. "Prince Rein... you might just be the most interesting child I've ever met."

"What about my wish?"

Rein asked with a cheeky smile his confidence unwavering despite the powerful presence of the Sultan before him.

Sahira stared at the paper, rereading his work as though to confirm she wasn't dreaming. The problem she had created was designed to stump even the greatest scholars in the Khaeran Confederacy—her own alchemists, engineers, and mathematicians had failed for months to solve it.

Yet here was this six-year-old boy, grinning at her with childish delight, as if he'd just shown her a toy rather than one of the greatest mathematical breakthroughs in recent years. She let out a long sigh, shaking her head with disbelief.

"By the sands, you truly did solve it... I've seen geniuses in my lifetime, Rein, but you're something beyond that." She paused, narrowing her eyes at him as if studying him for secrets.

"Very well, a promise is a promise. State your wish."

Rein crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, as if carefully considering. "I don't need the wish just yet.

I want you to owe me a favor."The room fell silent. Even Sahira blinked in surprise, processing the young prince's words.

Then, after a moment of stunned quiet, she threw back her head and laughed—a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the meeting hall.

"Ah, clever boy," she said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "To hold the favor of the Sultan of the Sun is no small thing, Prince Rein.

You have earned it." She bent down slightly, placing her hand on his head again, ruffling his hair gently. "Very well, when the time comes and you call upon me, I will grant your wish—so long as it is within my power."

Rein grinned, bowing politely. "Thank you, Lady Sahira. I'll be sure to use it wisely."

Sahira straightened, a small smile lingering on her lips. "You're something else, young prince. Keep sharpening that mind of yours—you'll need it in the days to come."

With that, she turned and left, her flowing golden robes trailing behind her like rays of the sun. Rein watched her leave, a spark of excitement glimmering in his eyes. In his mind, he couldn't help but feel proud.

"A favor from the Sultan... That might just come in handy in the future," he thought, already considering the possibilities.

The Meeting's Aftermath as the other representatives dispersed, Rein remained for a while in the emptying hall, his mind buzzing with ideas. This world was vast and dangerous, filled with monstrous demons, warrior kings, and brilliant leaders—but that only excited him. In his past life, Rein had felt stagnated, as though there were no challenges left for him. Here, in this life, the possibilities were endless.

He looked up at Marcus and Seraphina, who were still seated, going over their notes and strategies. Marcus looked up, catching Rein's curious gaze. "Rein, come here."

Rein approached, standing straight as he listened.

"You did well today," Marcus said, though his tone was formal. "For someone your age, you're more observant than most.

That favor you earned from the Sultan... it might actually prove valuable someday."

Seraphina smirked, leaning back in her chair. "You're full of surprises, little brother. But don't get too comfortable.

Political games are far more dangerous than the sword fights you admire so much." "I know," Rein replied calmly, his confidence unwavering. "That's why I'm going to win at both."

Seraphina chuckled, impressed by his boldness. "We'll see about that, little prodigy."

Marcus nodded, his expression serious. "There's still much work to do. For now, go back to your training. You'll need a strong mind and body for the trials ahead."

Rein bowed respectfully and turned to leave. As he walked back toward his quarters, he replayed everything in his mind: the saint's aura, Drakos's overwhelming presence, Kael Ironfist's intimidating strength, and the cunning words of the Sultan.

"This world truly is filled with monsters... and I can't wait to surpass them all."

His hands clenched into fists, determination flaring in his chest. The path to power would not be easy, but Rein knew one thing for certain: he was going to carve his name into the history of this world.