Chapter 1

**Year: 2042

Location: Unknown 

Current Event: The Signing of the Peace Treaty**

**Jericho**

It all happened in a desolate area. Only the leaders of each side and their most trusted generals stood on the ground. To the rest of the world, it never happened, never written in history. We never knew what was coming or what would happen that day, but we certainly knew the risks we took being there. No one will ever know our sacrifice.

The peacemaker, an impartial figure chosen for their integrity and dedication to humanity's future, stood at the center. Their role was to keep the document and serve as a witness to everything, ensuring that all vows were upheld. They began the ceremony by making us all swear a solemn vow to abide by the terms of the treaty. This was a momentous occasion, a potential turning point in history, and the weight of it pressed down on all of us.



Each leader signed in turn, their signatures representing the hopes of millions for a peaceful future. When our queen stepped forward, the atmosphere seemed to tighten. Her pen hovered over the paper, and I felt a strange unease. As she prepared to sign, I glanced at the Russian leader. Something was off. His posture, his demeanor—nothing aligned with the man I had seen in intelligence briefings. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut: the person who stood as the leader of Russia wasn't the leader of Russia.

My mind raced. I needed to warn the queen, but how? I couldn't just shout it out and risk causing a scene. I edged closer to her, my heart pounding. "Your Majesty," Iwhispered urgently, "we need to talk. Now."

But before we could even take a step, a voice from the Russian side rang out, "For the one true king!" The rest echoed the cry in unison. Panic surged through me as I saw them pull out bombs.

"Get down!" I screamed, but it was too late. Explosions ripped through the air, the shockwaves knocking me off my feet. For the first time since I could remember, I ran from a fight like a coward.

The thought of how mere moments ago this could have ended peacefully, and now I'll never see my mum again, didn't sit well with me. So I did the unthinkable and ran, not protecting the queen I swore to die for. As I ran, thoughts swept through my head. Though some may call it bullshit, my entire life flashed right before my eyes. One memory in particular couldn't stop replaying over and over inside my head. It was one where I was with the only two friends I ever had before I got scouted out to fight in the war.

In that memory, we had a little get-together. I made a few jokes and tried a few accents. At one point, they were like, "You should stop," and I then pulled off another accent as I said, "Let me tell you something, love, when it comes to doing this shit, there ain't no one better. Got that?" Keisha, the girl I liked at the time, replied, "Oh heavens, I'm a wanker." I still remember that vividly. Maybe it's because that was the last time I saw them before the war. I really hope they're okay. If I could see them again, I'd certainly appreciate them and tell them how much I love them. If only I could go back and see them, but no, instead, I end up dying here.

I kept running until the bomb caught up to me. It was a hydrogen explosive bomb, and as I fell and coughed up blood, as the fire burned out my flesh, I thought, "The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of destruction, the air thick with smoke and the cries of the fallen. Amidst the deafening roar of explosions and the acrid stench of burning debris, I, Jericho Ackerman, a soldier in the British army, stood certain that this was my end." The searing heat and blinding light of the final bomb enveloped me, nearly snuffing out my life in an instant.





Someone on the queen's side of the war asked if all was well, and I answered, "It was an ambush with suicide bombers." He responded, "Fuck, no wonder two of the countries on our side just got blown up. Only one thing to do," he said to someone else over the speaker. "Do it," and I assumed that was another bomb, but I couldn't care less since I was dying. The last thing I did was smile while burning and say, "You know, life wasn't all that bad." And I got ready for what comes next, which is usually death, but it seems fate had other plans.

Writer's P.O.V

550 years later

Within the confines of a castle wall, a baby was being birthed by a woman. After several struggled moans, she finally gave birth to the baby, which turned out to be stillborn.

"Again," said the king in frustration.

"Your majesty, what truly happened to have cursed your family with such misfortune?" asked the grand maester present.

"Ah, the usual."

"Ah," he said in realization, then whispered to another maester present, "Fucked a witch."

**Author's Note:** By this, they mean the king slept with a witch who probably cursed him because he didn't love her. This kind of thing became more usual during that time.

"Well, anyway, put him in with the rest," said the king to the grand maester. (By that, he meant to put him where they usually put the dead babies. The maester carried him to do just that.) "And you," he pointed at the woman giving birth (she was a concubine), "that'll be enough from you."

Jericho's P.O.V

Why the fuck is everything pitch black? And am I being carried?

Ha, he heaved a sigh of relief that at least he wasn't dead yet.

Writer's P.O.V

All of a sudden, the baby began crying.

"Fuck, he's alive!" said the maester in excitement.

"Really?" asked the king in astonishment.

Jericho's P.O.V

Everything is clearer now. Why the fuck are old men surrounding me? And they seem joyous. In fact, this is strangely abnormal.

I look to my left and look to my right, and then I realize... I'm a fucking baby!

(Wahhh! Wahhh!) I begin crying.

Writer's P.O.V

"He's a lively young lad, isn't he? Just look at how much he's crying," said one of the maesters.

"Ah, finally, the evil bitch I fucked has been put to shame. Now she can suck it for all I care," said the king.

"She already did, I'm afraid," whispered a maester. The king instantly sent him to a dungeon.

Jericho's P.O.V

I keep crying for about 10 minutes or so until I realize three things:

1. The war is over.

2. I somehow got reincarnated into the body of a prince.

3. This is another world because, well, it has to be. My world was at war and on the verge of destruction. Not bad, I just don't see why I had to be a baby. If I'm going to figure anything out in this new world, I'll have to play along as the newborn baby of this man. As I grow, I'm sure I'll learn a lot more

"But for now (baby pose), 'Aren't you the cutest?'"

"Three years later..."

"I had already learned a handful about the castle and my world. I could read and write because the castle's grand maester taught me. Whenever there was something I couldn't grasp, he patiently explained, opening doors to new knowledge.



I knew I wasn't in another world but rather 550 years ahead of my own time. Here, people possessed abilities beyond my wildest imaginings—not quite 'superpowers,' but advanced strengths and skills far surpassing my era. The average amateur runner could beat Usain Bolt's record without breaking a sweat, and life expectancy had soared to 165 years. If that isn't supernatural, I don't know what is. This generation is practically the superpowered version of my own."

"We live within walls said to protect us from the evils beyond. These walls have stood for over half a millennium, proven effective by generations before me. Humanity reverted to a monarchic system with kings and queens ruling within these walls. My father is the king, and the people here are a mix of African, European, and Asian descent. Legend says these walls arose after a great cataclysm, uniting survivors from around the globe who rebuilt together. History claims the walls were a divine gift, but I know otherwise. Such musings don't concern me now; my focus is on being a three-year-old prince and future ruler of Avaloria."

"Occasionally free from studies and the scrutiny of those interested only in my family name, I roamed the castle, seeking adventure. Guards spotted me but hesitated—after all, I'm the prince—but their expressions ranged from curiosity to unease. To them, I was either a child too serious or simply 'creepy.'"

"Two years later..."

"By the time I turned five, I had learned more than expected. That day marked my 'naming,' a rite of passage. Until then, everyone except my family called me 'prince.' Today, my new father named me Noah, inspired by my stormy birth and miraculous survival. Now, as Noah Castle, I was celebrated throughout the kingdom with feasting and festivities. My father orchestrated it all, and I cherished him for it. Having longed for a father in my previous life, this was a cherished perk of my new existence—though I wished my mother could have shared in the joy."

"I learned much in those years. Contrary to my earlier belief, this world harbors creatures of legend—monsters, both benign and malevolent. We've devised ways to keep them at bay: giants, mermaids, dragons—all real. Recently, my father revealed the truth of my birth: an affair with a witch who cursed him after discovering his lack of love. For years, he sought an heir, failing with wives and turning to concubines. Hundreds tried to bear him a child, all in vain. I, too, was born stillborn until, inexplicably, I survived."

"My head spun with his revelation—fascinated yet bewildered. How did he manage so many concubines after the witch's curse? I cared little for my mother, who departed as soon as she received her payment—it was all about the money."

"Discovering the kingdom's discontent was a shock. Venturing to the market with our cook, I saw the resentment firsthand. The people suffered while we royals lived in opulence, shielded by guards who saved me from potential abduction. I hadn't realized how despised I was, though strangers knew nothing of me."

"Five years later..."

"At ten, I discovered I was an arcanist—a rare gift in any generation, treasured by royal families. An adept runner and immune to common ailments, I began training under Elric, the king's right hand. By nine, I achieved the rank of High Sword Master, third highest in swordsmanship.





In hand-to-hand combat, I became a Grandmaster, second only to the Elders—a title I aspired to. My accomplishments brought my father immense pride, assuring him of my future greatness."

"Five years later..."

"Turning thirteen, I attended noble balls and met Lyra, my betrothed. A seer, she and I grew close, eventually dating. On our fourteenth birthday—a shared occasion—I initiated our first kiss with a playful quip "can you see what I'm about to do to you", and sparks flew. Life seemed perfect as we neared our fifteenth birthday, poised for marriage."



"Two years later..."

"Half-naked in a dungeon, my only sustenance was poisoned. Starving and despairing, I devoured the deadly fare, resigning myself to death. Outside, the coronation of a usurper—Silas Montgomery—echoed through the castle as people shouted "all hail the king, long may he reign".



As life ebbed away, my last thought echoed the bitter truth: 'Life couldn't get better; only worse.'"

**Writer's POV**

"And then he surrendered to the void."