stone age prince series

Fool, I am a fool, and This is my biography, a story that starts with the mistake that cost me a kingdom, and my life because nice guys finish last.

At the age of 12 my mother the queen was banished after killing my father the king, and I was left alone on the cold throne.

As inexperienced ruler coming to power unprepared, unprotected, and surrounded by smiling faces.

Two years later I was in the royal stables escaping boring meeting using the excuse of seeing the new horses alone, when a stable's boy saved my life from wild war horse that got loose, a horse that was about to kill me painfully, I was seeing my short life flash before me when the 16-year-old boy jumped on me rolling me away, then shielding me with his aura, in the royal palace as a symbol of our royal statues, and power even the stable's boy had an above average aura, his strength and courage had impressed me, and from that day we became inseparable.

I saw in him everything I longed for—strength, power, the kind of warrior I could never be. He wielded his aura like a shield, a force that others respected, something I could only dream of possessing. My own aura was weak, pathetic—a constant reminder of my unworthiness.

My father had the aura, the talent of our bloodline. I didn’t. My aura was weaker than a commoner’s, and the nobility saw it as a stain on the royal family bloodline—something to be pitied, a shameful disability, something to be mocked. Without tools or formations, I couldn’t even control mana. My aura was so frail, it couldn’t bear to be marked for instant spell casting. Every path to power was closed to me.

Alchemy was all I had. My only escape. While others wielded their aura like a weapon, I was left with nothing but theory and books. Pathetic. I knew every spell by heart, but without a strong aura, it was worthless. My only refuge was in alchemy—my secret skill, hidden away in my room like the shame of my ‘low soul,’ as the nobles so often reminded me. ‘Low soul’—their perfect insult, cutting deeper than any blade.

But a king needs power, he needs to bring the hurt on his enemies, In every time of peril when I needed someone I could trust, my thoughts always turned to a friend, my best and only friend.

I gave him everything. Mana crystals, pills, gold—he was my right hand, my iron fist. I thought I was building an ally. Instead, I was building an infection. Slowly, his influence spread around My throne, until the crude peasant I once called a friend became a nobleman. My right hand. My mistake.

In the beginning, I was blind to it his hunger, his ambition. the way privilege warped him, I thought his eagerness was a sign of loyalty, and enthusiasm to serve me, convinced myself that his success is a reflection of my growing power. But now, as I sit here in this empty room, replaying every moment, I see it for what it was all along, Not ambition, Not loyalty, It was pure, ravenous megalomania.

‘I see WHO you are, you're My Enemy’.

That was my mistake, I corrupted him, he was just the stable's boy, all he knew was how to shovel shit, until one day I opened his eyes to the world, and it’s possibility's. The seed of greed I planted grew in his hart, nurtured by the nobility factions until it became dragon fever.

When the first whispers of rebellion surfaced, he ignored my commands. Let it fester. Let it grow. I still remember the day he dismissed me—didn’t even bother to meet my gaze. The same peasant who once bowed kissed my hand, trembling, at my feet. I see it clearly now. That rebellion? It wasn’t the people’s. It was his.

The peasant who would have never known what a gold coin is, if it weren't for me allowing him to see it, that peasant now wants to be king.

Then the news came my mother the Queen is dead in a landslid accident, what a coincidence in such time, that was the last straw.

“I made a monster”. And not just him—the soldiers, the servants, they’ve all changed. I see it in the way they move around me, the slow, reluctant bows, the averted eyes. There’s something unspoken in their every movement, the body language it had a confession in it, a confession of what’s to come. They know. They’re part of it.

‘His influence runs deep, his aura makes my own look like a joke.’

For the first time in a long time I started to think like king should,

‘To win I have no choice but to destroy him utterly, but I cannot see it. So I must shift my thinking change the definition of what is a victory’.

‘I can’t show mercy or hesitate or show my hand, this must be a quick brutal naked display of power. Power I don't have in aura, so it must manifest in another way, But then what?, be a king!?, a king to whom?, after I kill their beloved general how long until his men seek vengeance and the throne.’

I’m a king with a baby’s aura. That’s the root of everything. Without power, real power, they will never accept me. What’s the point of sitting on the throne if I’ve already lost control?

I need a plan, I started to think, think like my grandfather taught me, Problem-solving. Mini-maxing. It must be Emotionless. I had to do the most with what I had to maintain power. But what power?.

I need to think like grandpa and Father, ‘thinking about number one. Everyone else came second—or possibly third. Long story short, be a survivor.’

First the nobility, they think there safe from me, I made them feel safe, now I made a plan for them, but that was just step one I need more, I need a strategy, when the cold-blooded idea completely formed I laughed at its horrific beauty, like grandfather like Father like son, “I am going to end up dead”, That was a depressing idea but funny one if looked at correctly.

If the world finds out about what I have planned, For the most part, they’re going to hate me.

“The hell with them. Power was never a popularity contest, time to win”.

If the world knew what I was planning, they'd despise me for it. "hell with them. Power isn’t a popularity contest—it's about winning, about survival, time to win". If I can't have my kingdom, then I’ll make sure no one else does, I’ll burn it to the ground, reduce it to ash. Let them rule over dust and bones.

I went to my alchemist's workbench and picked up my mana control disk, it was the size of my palm, made by a genius, my grandfather the founder of the empire, it was an empire, until he divided the empire among his son’s, one of them is my father, our grip on this kingdom was iron before the emperor’s death.

But that was the past, Thinking of the past is pointless now. There's no changing what’s done. There’s only the plan. The work.

I went out to the privet royal wine cellar, our collection is the most sought after mana-wine in the world, its taste and benefit’s make it a rare gift the nobility trade but never sell. The same nobles that want to dance on my grave as they drink our wine.

‘Do they think that they will win?, that they will erase me?, erased my identity!!!?, take my kingdom without consequences?.’ The idea, the questions angered me, something in me became monstrous, and that monster has just shook-off the last chains of morality.

I picked up a bottle and used my control disk and alchemy skills to poison the wine without opening it, it will kill slowly in a delayed timetable. I did it to every bottle then I ordered that all the royal wine to be sold.

When the news spread The supply emptied as fast as airship flay, I spent all the day watching win go out and gold come in, most will call me fool for selling it instead of using it as political coin, let them talk they won't be talking for long.

By the end of the week the wine will be in every noble House in the kingdom, that was Step one completed.

My next step was to visit the one place I never liked in this palace, I went into the royal privet treasury, it was built inside the royal palace for safety and easy access, as I entered I was greeted by the heads of my grandfathers enemies, all cut and stuffed as souvenirs, these heads were different from human non-human to beast's but most were from creatures that thought, talked and crossed rod’s with him, yeah that was very unlucky for the pore bastards, And now I see why he was so decisive, so murderers.

What would you have done in my place grandfather?.

I dropped that line of thought and looked around me the royal treasury is full of gold silver and every valuable thing a noble could dream about, even mana-crystals.

But I wasn't here for any of it. What was on my mind was fare more valuable than gold, I am here for spells.

First, I Searched for the reincarnation kit my mother left after she used it on my father, it was his plan when he asked her to kill him, so that he can escape this life into another one, an adventure he called it, that selfish bastard.

Just like that, he abandoned me. 'My father, the selfish bastard, escaped into the reincarnation cycle—leaving me behind in this kingdom of rot. He left me to deal with the ruins while he chased adventure in another life.'

The reincarnation kit is my secret now. No one knows about it. If the nobility ever found out? They’d tear me apart, fighting over the chance to claim it. They’d kill for it. They’d kill me for it.

That's why I can see his point, why stay and risk it?. Grandfather is dead the empire broke apart. Why stay just to die later?.

I concentrated on my search, and Finlay, I found it.

I licked my lips. As I looked at the reincarnation kit, it is definitely the most valuable thing in this world.

It offers what no king can, what no talent can, no luck can. It offers memory, a second chance in another life.

They say that the bull that survives the wrestling ring is never returned to the ring again. Not as a reward for its survival, but because the bull has a relatively strong memory, and because its smart, it learns quickly.

One of the conditions for bulls that are sent to the wrestling ring is that they must have no memory, and that they see everything they see for the first time, and do not know how to face it.

With no memory, They are easy to catch, confuse, and then killed for the viewers' enjoyment.

That's why am here, because life is a wrestling ring, and this reincarnation kit is the lifeline, I won't enter the reincarnation cycle just to be killed again.

Memory is a shield and the only lifeline. In my next life, I must remember.

I wonder how many times have I been killed in the wrestling ring, how many lives have I been the victim, the fool, the pawn, the scarifies, the good Friend.

I don’t know how many times I was taken to the wrestling ring, but this will be the last time. This pawn has just reached the 8th rank.

I looked at my hands at the tablet shaped crystal, and the scrolls, ancient, fragile, the ink faded but still legible, with new scrolls copy's of the old for better reading, yes I can do it.

However, This ritual requires me to be in control over my Death, it can't be a knife in the back, it can't be poison in the diner table, it can't be a surprise, death must be planned for, it must be a ritual, but war is war, out-there I can't be in control over how and when I die. But here and now I can.

But why not fight him?, why escape?, because even if I can kill him, and his loyalist's in the capital, then there will be noble houses to deal with, they will unite against me, no they are united against me, they musty be already a part of his plan. Not just them but the other kingdoms there nobles will add to the problem and I will be in war so large it will take decades to end.

Even the commoners don’t want me, they have been conditioned to accept only the strong, the pure blooded, the aura gifted, not a man with baby's aura.

It's an impossible situation, but no I won't let them go unpunished, I will lose my throne and my life, but the nobles will lose more.

So if I can’t keep my victory and cant be sure how and when my life will end. Then let there be chaos, I will plan my fall, and take them all to hell with me.

I took the scrolls—the instructions for the ritual. And there it was—the tablet, carved from crystal and etched with ancient mana symbols. If I hadn’t known what it was, I’d have mistaken it for a strange piece of thick glass. My mother once told me the inscription roughly translates to ‘Get Isekai'd.’ I have no idea what it means—some ancient language, my grandpa had a strange sense of humor, perhaps it's an insult—but I don’t need to understand it. I only need to use it.

Second thing on my shopping list was the skills, in the royal treasury there were skill crystals, in them there are perfecter memories of information from alchemy, aura control technique to spell forging, the entire empire magical knowledge and sciences where here in 36 crystals.

I’ll take it all. Every spell, every secret. Better to have power and never use it than to need it and be empty-handed. If I am going to start over I will start with all the knowledge I may need.

The Crystal's were full of memories of insight’s from geniuses of the empire, insights about aura, mana, spell crafting, everything was here.

Sadly they can be useful only to those with the right body and aura, it all depends on natural talent as a seed.

For me in this life only the alchemy crystals where useful.

No matter how bad my new life will be it can’t be worse than my own right now, so I should find something useful in these insights.

I took everything to my room, With my new iron resolve I started to read, and fallow the instructions about the reincarnation kit.

I removed the mattress, revealing the bare wood beneath. Slowly, meticulously, I began carving the symbols, tracing them with gold ink as the scrolls instructed. Each line, each stroke felt like sealing a deal with the darkness. In the center, I placed the crystal tablet—my lifeline to another world.

Furthermore, I modified the ritual to include mana-vampirism but only activate it after my death not before, this will boost my own soul, it will be strengthened with a sacrifice.

What am I talking about?, see my mother didn't just kill my father, first she killed five of his servants, they were killed as sacrifice for my father to have strong start in another life.

But only I know why she did it all, she did it for a duplicate of the reincarnation tablets one for her and one for me as price for her help, that's a mothers love.

"Thanks mother, thanks for the chance to start over", But unlike my father I have no one to help, so I modified it to take the sacrifice after my death And there can be no better sacrifice then a friend.

I placed the thick pad back on the bed, concealing the ritual underneath. From the outside, my royal chambers looked the same as always—just a bed, a spacious room, and my alchemy workbench. But beneath the surface, everything had changed. The final piece of my revenge was set.

As I felt my time come to an end, I did what any good alchemist would do if he had the rare ingredients I do, first I made painkiller potions, if I am going to die I will go out with clear mind.

Then I made a big fuck mana-bomb, why? For the sacrifices. I need to collect some dead souls to energies my trip into the next life. I connected it to the ritual with a golden wire on time delay of thirty seconds after am dead, that's when the ritual will be ready to take in the offering.

The ritual will secure my soul then the bomb will cook some nice Delicious sacrifices and the ritual will use them as fertilizer for my next life.

I hid both the bomb and the wire making the room look normal.

I took out the 36 crystals, spreading them over my bed, I will absorb them one by one.

Six hours later When I was done, my head was made of pain, I still can't understand what I just absorbed, but I will have time to in my next life.

Now I Waite for my killer.

To make sure I die in my room, I refused to leave, any meeting or documents and gusts will be received in my room. I started by ordering the servant's to deliver food to my room and cancel all my appointments.

Servants came in and out With Every meal I noticed there respect for me die, and in their eyes I saw hidden contempt, ‘Yeah they jumped ship’, there loyalties have shifted, I won't be surprised if every servant that came near me was now a spy.

‘They chose him over me.’

But it seems that they all have forgotten to never underestimate an alchemist's backed into a corner, just like I have forgotten every political lesson grandpa taught me, and found myself here.

‘Power is about your best interest no more no less.’,,,‘Boy, Be Careful Who You Let In Your Inner-Circle’. He told me, he warned me, but I was an idiot, and something’s can only be learned through experience.

I took every meal in bed just in case there was poison, but I didn't think it was. He's the type to watch, to see with his own eyes, to make sure and enjoy it.

After two days of normal slow routine, I started to fear that I made mistake, the plan won't work, or worse I will spend my life in this room with no opportunity for revenge, but that’s okay I can just win my memories, and escape the cycle.

The anticipation was killing me, when, where, will I die in bed? Or at the door when I open it?. I started to fear stepping out of bed.

On the third night, it finally happened.

I woke to the sight of MY soldier surrounding my bed, soldier that I gave money favors and a helping hand when they needed it, now they aimed there spears at me, yes aura piercing spears ready to kill, not that they needed them, and he was there in-front of my bed, looking at me the man that give him everything as if I was the worm.

Our eyes met in the silence, and I saw the flicker of confusion in his gaze. He expected fear. Instead, he saw my victory.

Hello, My Friend. My Enemy.

'You have lost'

My eyes were saying it, at first there was hint of confusion on his face, he expected fear and didn’t see it.

Then I saw it his tired eyes, his Skin sweating in the cold room, ‘huh, the poisoned wine has started taking effect, he can't see it but his feeling it, the end.’,,,‘yes that's right you fuck I win, not you peasant, ME’.

I gave him the most unhinged smile I could, the psychotic in me is coming out just as I pushed my aura at the tablet underneath me.

His ego swelled, and he snarled, "Kill him." My soldiers—no, his soldiers—obeyed without hesitation. As if I had never mattered at all.

On reflex, I pushed my aura out to defend my self, but it was a joke my aura was weak, the aura piercing spears dipped into my aura as if it's a pond of water, then my flesh was ripped apart.

Only the painkiller kept me from screaming.

My plan worked. I died with a smile on my face. But instead of my head mounted on a pike for the city to cheer at, my mana-bomb exploded. The energy from over a thousand liters of heavy water in my alchemy lab detonated, consuming the palace in a fiery storm of magic

The heavy-water was something only my grandfather knows how to make, a royal family secret and he showed me.

That 56-megaton secret ripped through the palace, erupting in a mana-fueled mushroom cloud. Just as a shockwave of fire and fury ripped the city apart. it killed the city of six million sacrifices in an instant.

Six million lives—gone.

I only wish I could have watched it burn. I would have danced like the devil over their ashes, letting the winds carry their remains like dust across the desolate land.

Why?, because I have embraced the Monster.

***********

On dimension that no organic mind can imagine a report was delivered.

The reports title was

--world path deviation point detected--

The mind receiving the report if it could be called a mind, spoke.

Open Report.

--system reporting--

The mind reviewed the mountains of data opening before it and came to a simple conclusion.

The rules haven't been breached it happened on its own, yet This will shatter centuries of stagnation.

And I didn't even need to cheat, the problem just solved itself by itself.