EVIL SYSTEM

Aquí tienes una traducción fiel al inglés, manteniendo el tono, estilo y crudeza del original:

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"They're going to kill you!" A voice whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Cedrid brushed the air around him with irritation and nodded. "I know."

No one had to tell him — he wasn't an idiot.

He could see, feel, and sense the tension hanging in the mansion's atmosphere.

He was already fourteen and nearing the time for his ritual. Cedrid had made his preparations in case the worst were to happen.

And what was the worst-case scenario?

Being too talented.

Cedrid let out an ironic smile at the thought that if he turned out to be talented, his life would be at risk.

He was the fourth son of Count Flebergh. He had no right to inheritance — not even close. But if he turned out to be talented in the art of Harmony, there was no doubt that his older brother and his stepmother would try to kill him.

The only way to survive was to be completely mediocre — or worse.

His life was at risk simply because he was already known as a very smart and capable boy at such a young age.

His father held him in high regard, even though his mother had only been the daughter of a minor baron.

His mother had died in childbirth, and since that day he had survived alone in a place full of schemes and intrigue.

Fortunately, he was someone who remembered his past life on Earth, and had been extremely careful not to offend or provoke anyone particularly dangerous.

Even so, everyone was watching his upcoming ritual. Everyone was curious to see what kind of Harmony he would awaken and how powerful he could become.

He had created a certain level of expectation among many, being known as a sensible, mature, and intelligent boy.

His stepmother was also paying close attention to the ceremony — which was not a good sign.

Her son, Dalton, was the eldest of the Count's children. He had awakened a high-level Harmony with the earth and was the obvious heir to his father's lands and titles.

But the woman didn't want to leave any loose ends and had been plotting against the Count's second son.

Cedrid knew all this, which is why he had been trying not to stand out. On many occasions, he had openly declared that he had no interest in inheriting anything.

And it was true.

He came from a world where he worked every day from 6:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m., just to survive.

He never got to travel, explore, or have fun.

A slave to modern slavery.

His only pleasures were the occasional trip to the movies or eating junk food — which, even though he knew it was harmful, he loved with all his soul.

When he arrived in this world, he thought he would lose all the comforts of modern life. But the truth was that, although he didn't live quite as comfortably as before, he was now a noble, and life wasn't hard at all. It was like living in the countryside, far from the city.

Except now, he no longer had to work from sunrise to sunset.

He could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

He had to endure a few boring lessons, but that was about it.

The only bad thing...

Cedrid looked up to see the transparent figure of a boy with a twisted expression. His neck was bent by a rope that held him suspended in the air.

His eyes bulged from their sockets and his nose dripped blood.

Honestly, it was a terrifying sight — but he was used to it.

In his past life, he had also been able to see ghosts, but not this clearly.

Back then, the most intense thing he ever saw was a dark shadow. But when he came to this world, that ability of his was greatly strengthened.

Now he could see ghosts clearly, hear them, and even talk to them.

"They're going to kill you!!" said the ghost boy with his twisted expression.

"I told you I know," Cedrid wanted to shout, but was afraid someone might see him. "Stop reminding me."

Cedrid walked through the hallways with a mix of nervousness and haste. When he reached two large doors made of ancient wood, he took a deep breath to gather his courage.

He opened the doors and stepped into the grand hall. Inside were his father and his stepmothers.

His father, Frederic Stormwind, sat at the head of the hall. He was a broad, muscular man with a square face and a stern expression, his brow permanently furrowed.

Beside him stood his three stepmothers and trusted attendants.

The first wife, Remora Sell, was a very beautiful blonde woman — and the stuff of Cedrid's nightmares. For as long as he could remember, she had been the person he'd been most careful around. Still, the woman hated him.

The second wife, Amelia Oakbar, was also beautiful, with light brown hair so pale it seemed almost gray. He had barely interacted with her beyond a polite greeting or nod, but he had heard she was kind to her servants. Still, Cedrid did not take her lightly.

His mother had been the third wife, now deceased.

Finally, there was the fourth wife, Melissa Graylock — the youngest of them all, only 19 years old, and in fact the same age as Dalton. She had short black hair with tips dyed a deep purple and a stunning figure. Cedrid couldn't help but think the Count had excellent taste in beauty.

Besides his stepmothers, the hall also held Sir Alek Hornraven, the leader of the Count's knights and one of the strongest men in the region.

An old man in long, dragging robes stepped beside his father and whispered something in his ear.

The Count nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, all the candles in the hall lit up with a deep blue flame.

"Enter the circle," gestured the old man, named Allvar Cromdor.

Cedrid didn't dare disobey and stepped into the circle, where various shapes and symbols were drawn in a specific order.

The candles surrounding the circle cast small shadows with each step he took.

When he reached the center, Cedrid sat cross-legged and closed his eyes as Allvar Cromdor began to chant words in a strange, ancient language.

---

¿Quieres que traduzca también la siguiente parte cuando la tengas lista?

Aquí tienes una traducción fiel al inglés, manteniendo el tono, estilo y crudeza del original:

---

"They're going to kill you!" A voice whispered in his ear, making him shudder.

Cedrid brushed the air around him with irritation and nodded. "I know."

No one had to tell him — he wasn't an idiot.

He could see, feel, and sense the tension hanging in the mansion's atmosphere.

He was already fourteen and nearing the time for his ritual. Cedrid had made his preparations in case the worst were to happen.

And what was the worst-case scenario?

Being too talented.

Cedrid let out an ironic smile at the thought that if he turned out to be talented, his life would be at risk.

He was the fourth son of Count Flebergh. He had no right to inheritance — not even close. But if he turned out to be talented in the art of Harmony, there was no doubt that his older brother and his stepmother would try to kill him.

The only way to survive was to be completely mediocre — or worse.

His life was at risk simply because he was already known as a very smart and capable boy at such a young age.

His father held him in high regard, even though his mother had only been the daughter of a minor baron.

His mother had died in childbirth, and since that day he had survived alone in a place full of schemes and intrigue.

Fortunately, he was someone who remembered his past life on Earth, and had been extremely careful not to offend or provoke anyone particularly dangerous.

Even so, everyone was watching his upcoming ritual. Everyone was curious to see what kind of Harmony he would awaken and how powerful he could become.

He had created a certain level of expectation among many, being known as a sensible, mature, and intelligent boy.

His stepmother was also paying close attention to the ceremony — which was not a good sign.

Her son, Dalton, was the eldest of the Count's children. He had awakened a high-level Harmony with the earth and was the obvious heir to his father's lands and titles.

But the woman didn't want to leave any loose ends and had been plotting against the Count's second son.

Cedrid knew all this, which is why he had been trying not to stand out. On many occasions, he had openly declared that he had no interest in inheriting anything.

And it was true.

He came from a world where he worked