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The Prince Who Was Promised

Reinhold, the last remaining heir of the ancient chosen bloodline of the great house Lionheart, now bears the weight of his ancestors' legacy as reigning king of the Lionheart Kingdom. But this burden is not just one of duty and tradition; for centuries, his people have been trapped on the cursed continent of Laruthar, longing to break free. And now, as dark forces gather once more and magic slowly seeps away, Reinhold's shoulders bear an even greater weight - that of fulfilling a prophecy that speaks of a promised prince who will rise from the ashes and lead them to liberation. As he enters his twilight years, whispers swirl about whether this aging lion is truly the prophesied prince or just a mere pawn in the arrangement of fate. The stakes are high and the flames of corruption and despair threaten to consume them all. Readers can expect: Gore, slice of life, action, character focus, and some world-building (a lot, i hope so). I also like an 'animal' fighting style; like a lion, MC can reach this style later when he have crash out. This story is about: a king named Reinhold, who, in his twilight years, has to carry the fate of his kind and the burden of a prophecy.

chippubo12 · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
19 Chs

Chapter 17.

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"The legion of the chosen, whether in the south or the north, always warmly welcomes someone like you. So why do you spit on the blessing our ancestors gave you?" Reinhold asked softly, kneeling by the dying warrior as he gently wiped a tear away, his touch gentle despite the blood covering his fingertips.

"I... I just... wanted..." As he fought to remain conscious, Bhar'ther stammered, his voice barely audible.

"Yes...?" Reinhold whispered reassuringly, urging him to continue. He knew that Bhar'ther's life force was rapidly draining, but it would still take some time until death finally claimed him.

"...My mothe-r..." Bhar'ther murmured weakly, his breathing growing increasingly labored as he spoke. He closed his glassy eyes tightly, his body trembling uncontrollably as he clung desperately to his last remaining threads of life.

Just when Reinhold thought he was about to give up, he didn't as he took out a bottle of blood and poured it straight into his mouth. His eyes narrowed into icy slits as he locked his gaze on Reinhold, the intensity of his stare piercing through the air. This does not represent someone who is about to die or someone who wants to live. This was a look of hatred, as if it had accumulated for thousands of years.

He grabbed the collar of Reinhold's armor and forcefully pulled him closer. He summoned all of the remaining strength in his frail and shattered body to part his lips.

"She used to be a prostitute near this neighborhood. My father was of the chosen blood and a frequent guest of my mother. They gradually developed feelings for each other as my father always poured sweet honey into her ears and made promises of a happy family. She believed and decided to follow him, which was her biggest mistake." Disgust twisted his lips into a sneer, while the flames of hatred in his eyes blazed brighter at the memory of his father.

"There are no happy families or thatched huts with love at all. He treats my mother worse than a dog. The dog even has a place to sleep and enjoys his time there. He beat and tortured her like an animal, fed her leftovers, and forced her to serve him like a king. Even in her sleep, that animal still tormented her. Yet she continues to trust him, holding onto the love and ideals of the 'chosen ones' from her childhood stories."

His hand trembled, and he spat out the words with such venom that he seemed to have bitten his tongue while speaking. His grip tightened even harder on Reinhold's armor collar, as if he could squeeze his soul out through it.

"But the worst is when that animal brought me into this world. After my birth, he abandoned my mother, discarding her like an old rag or a broken toy. She was lying alone at the edge of the forest, her body covered in wounds and even blood flowing from her private area non-stop. If it weren't for the dark elves, neither she nor I would have survived!"

A fervent blaze ignited in his eyes, fueled by a passion bordering on fanaticism, as tears cascaded down his cheeks, but he did not care. He kept his gaze fixed on Reinhold's eyes, resolute not to back down even when his vision began to slip away.

After a weighty silence, he fixed his gaze on Reinhold and demanded.

"So, answer me, Reinhold von Lionheart, the all-powerful Lion King, Protector of the South. Do you think that filthy and disgusting 'ancient blood' is still a 'blessing'? Your kind have been reduced to mere shadows of their former selves. You take great pride in the greatness, nobility, and wisdom that your ancestors possess, but will your ancestors, when looking at you now, be able to restrain themselves from spitting in your faces?"

A storm brewed on Reinhold's face, his eyes ablaze with fury and his fists clenched tightly as he fought to contain the rising tempest within him. His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped his gauntlets, and his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth.

But all this outrage was not for Bhar'ther, not even the slightest. No, Reinhold knew better than that, and he was not someone who unquestioningly held onto honor. He blamed himself because the dying man's words haunted him and weighed heavily on his heart. His expression was solemn, as if death itself had touched him.

Only now has he paid more attention to this young man's face.

He had a handsome face, a slim nose, and skin as white as porcelain. His eyes were a piercing shade of green, sparkling with tears reminiscent of emeralds, but now they have become lifeless, no longer steadfast and fiery like a few moments ago. The slight smirk playing on his lips hinted at a mischievous nature hidden beneath his seemingly innocent appearance. His messy, blood-soaked hair hung around his face. He is just a boy in his 20s.

He warmly grabbed Bhar'Ther's left hand, which was clinging tightly to his collar, as if wanting to ease the pain. But when he touched it, his hand tightened even more. His fingers dug into Reinhold's armor so hard that they almost broke through it.

"Answer me! Do you wake up every day, look into the mirror, consider yourself God among mortals, and then walk nonchalantly past those animals in the shadow of that 'God'?! Do you even care to fight back, even the slightest bit, against the inevitable corruption?!!" Bhar'ther's voice cracked as he shouted.

Reinhold looked into his lifeless eyes without a single trace of hesitation. There was a moment where the fire in them seemed to fade away, and then suddenly it burst forth once again.

"I am sorry." said Reinhold solemnly, his voice low as he bowed his head in apology. "I fight every day, even in my sleep, Bhar'ther. From the daily battle against the limits of our mortality to the endless war against our own nature in order to better ourselves. We define ourselves by refusing to yield to implacable truths in the hope that we can surpass the 'worst' in ourselves. Our body is the battlefield, and our brain is the weapon."

He gently took the cold and skinny hand of the young man and placed it on his chest before he spoke.

"But some lack this, my dear friend. Without our hearts, not even the smartest man nor the strongest warrior can be any different from an animal. Our hearts guide us in our actions, providing us with empathy, compassion, and the ability to connect with others on a deeper level. It is our emotions that set us apart from mere beasts of instinct."

The two of them remained silent for what seemed like a lifetime, staring into one another's souls, searching for any sign that their words had reached each other. Finally, Reinhold sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he shook his head sadly.

"Then why does my mother still have to suffer, and where were you when we needed you the most?" He whispered softly, as if all the strength had already left his body.

"For I am neither the greatest king nor a god." Reinhold muttered under his breath, his tone filled with guilt and sadness. A lone tear slid down the side of Reinhold's face, leaving behind a trail of glistening liquid.

"We must eat even though we will turn to dust. Sleep, even though we know someday we will never wake. Suffer, even though we don't deserve it. Grow strong and overcome our nature despite knowing our bodies will fail and our minds are on the brink of corruption. Life itself is inherently unfair, my friend. But damned if we aren't going to give it our all regardless." Reinhold spoke in earnest, his words resonating deeply inside the dying Bhar'ther's heart, bringing warmth to his soul.

"For a fight that cannot be won is the most crucial fight. Is this the fate you truly seek, Bhar'ther?" Reinhold added as his eyes fixed on his fallen foe, his hand still clasped firmly around his cold, lifeless limb.

"I-I refuse to... accept this fate..." Bhar'ther whispered weakly. His breathing grew slower and shallower, the life draining from his body as his eyelids closed.

Reinhold's mind flashed with a contradiction. He thought it safer to let him die, but saw greater benefits in winning him over and keeping him under his command. A series of scenarios ran through his mind, as if he couldn't control this beast, chaos would descend upon innocent people. The power he just demonstrated is undeniable.

But after a moment that felt like an entire day, he felt that the power Bhar'ther possessed was worth the risk, and he believed that, hidden under that shell of madness and violence, there was a boy longing for love and guidance.

"So, will you accept to stand side by side with me, facing the cruelty of this world? Together?" Reinold inquired, placing a hand on his chest.

Bhar'ther hesitated, his mind racing as he contemplated his decision, but eventually he gave a faint nod.

"S...o.. be..it..." As the last of his strength faded along with his heartbeat, Bhar'ther's voice trailed off into nothingness. His grip loosened, and his head lolled backward onto the floor.

Immediately, Reinhold stood up and pulled out a small, crimson magic stone the size of a pinky finger from the small pouch below his belt.

"Then let me give you a chance to make things right." As soon as he finished speaking, he crushed the magic stone. The fragments of stone instantly dissolved in his palm, leaving only a small red crystal embedded in the center of his hand, glowing dimly.

Suddenly, a ray of light bursting straight down from the sky passed through the dilapidated mansion from the previous battle, creating a huge energy explosion that seemed to blow the house away. Thick smoke and dust obscured everything.

"Muahahahaha, so it turns out that the undefeated king still has to call a sick old man like me for backup one day?!" Armagus's voice rang out, stirring throughout the mansion.

"You look quite pathetic, Reinhold; I knew it before I even needed to see you. So tell me, where is the bastard who tormented you? Or should I just blow up this whole area just to be sure?" The old man slammed his stick twice on the floor and summoned a great wind, which instantly repelled all the dust.

Reinhold then appeared behind him and placed his hand roughly on his head. It turned out that all this time, this old man was standing alone, talking to the wall.

"Old man, you still look so healthy and in love with life, don't you?" Reinhold said sarcastically, turning Armagus's head to the corner of the room where Bhar'Ther was lying.

"Cure him for me, please." He then spoke calmly, his tone serious but also full of hope and confidence, which was unusual to hear from a person who usually speaks like a robot.

"The fuck-! You summoned me all the way here with a crimson-grade stone worth half of your city; take me a whole year to make one, and just to be a mere healer?" Armagus cursed as his wrinkled eyes widened in shock, staring incredulously at his pupil.

"No, no, no, no, no. This is not possible! Such bull crap! If you wanted to save him so much, why did you even beat him to pieces in the first place??" Armagus rambled frantically, waving his arms about wildly in front of Reinhold.

"Sorry old man, but this time I really need your help. After returning from this trip, I promise to let you go to the sea and unleash your spells on sea monsters. Is that reasonable?" Reinhold replied with his hands together in a begging pose.

"Hmph. You're lucky I'm not that kind of person. Otherwise, I would have smashed your face right after arriving. And you better keep your promise this time, and there better be no restriction on my spell's level." He scoffed and walked over to the wounded Bhar'ther's side.

"It's true that only the old man understands me best!" Reinhold mumbled while scratching his head with a hand, his face showing a wide smile.

Armagus placed his staff beside him, then sat down next to Bhar'ther. Immediately, his eyes glowed green as he used his right arm to sweep across Bhar'ther's body and into the large wound in his right shoulder. His face showed calmness, and his left hand caressed his beard as if he were very confident in his own abilities.

Reinhold watched him closely, with a hopeful look. After all these years, his old friend has never failed him.

"You beat him quite fiercely. You seriously damaged his internal organs, eliminated most of the nerves in his head, cracked his skull extensively, and killed his parietal brain lobe. He seems to have sacrificed his right arm to the darkness, making it beyond repair. Armagus spoke in a deep, rasping voice as he stared at Bhar'ther, shaking his head as he continued.

"It seems like you numb nut is sitting here lecturing him for awhile. He lies here, feeling every vein in his head explode. He experiences every fiber of muscle tearing and burning, nerves being severed, and his skull cracking like an eggshell." The old magician paused, letting out a tired sigh.

"I have seen enough. This boy's spirit is stronger than you might think. He was ready to sacrifice his life for this fight."

"That was exactly the case, old man." Reinhold nodded and replied, shyly scratching his face with his hand.

"He shall be my shadow in the future; I feel it, his eyes were just blinded by hatred."

"Well, if you say so." Armagus shrugged his shoulders and continued his job, ignoring Reinhold. "With injuries this severe... I'm afraid it will take twenty minutes of my precious time."

As he spoke, a green aura enveloped Bhar'ther's entire body, from the bottom up. Slowly, his wounds healed, his shattered ribs reassembled, his bones fused together, his veins connected, his organs repaired, and the muscles and skin regrew.

"I'll leave his right eye unharmed, but I can't repair that arm of his because the darkness has completely destroyed it." He pointed to his own right eye while explaining to Reinhold.

"He will be able to use his right eye normally; although it is a bit weak, he should be able to move it freely. The field of vision is slightly reduced due to having only one functioning right eye."

"Thank you, old man." Reinhold smiled happily when he heard that. "If that's the case, I think it's better to let him choose which eye to replace. After all, he's just a kid." He said as he looked at the sleeping face on the ground and sighed, his expression a little sad.

The old mage did not reply; instead, he just waved his hand, and a green magic circle appeared in front of him. He began chanting something incomprehensible. Then suddenly, a beam of light shone through the roof above them, directly onto the magic circle that floated in the air. This caused the circle to emit a blinding green light.

Reinhold covered his eyes, shielding himself as he turned away. The bright green rays engulfed the room, illuminating the whole place.

"It's done, Rein." Armagus finally spoke as he put away his staff into thin, empty air.

"Next time, remember to use your brain before using your ass muscles." He then added in a stern voice, glaring angrily at Reinhold.

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