From Trash to Their King

Our Long -Lost Prince

Kelvin stood frozen, his jaw slightly open, his mind struggling to process the absurd, surreal scene unfolding across the clinic floor. The supreme political authority of the entire continent, a man who held the divine right to crown emperors, dismantle kingdoms, and execute high-tier Arch-Mages with a single command was kneeling at his bare feet, pressing his crystal crown against the polished wood like a common beggar.

“Your... Royal Highness? I think you have to have the wrong person. I am just a cleaner. I scrub floors, haul trash, spent three months getting beaten for missing a spot on the tiles” Kelvin stammered, his raspy voice cracking as he instinctively backed away. His heels dug into the soft carpet until his spine hit the plush edge of the medical bed.

The Kingmaker slowly lifted his head, his piercing, violet eyes glowing with absolute, terrifying certainty. The old man turned his stern gaze toward Noah, Alaric, and their heavy noble cronies who were still groaning in pools of their own blood on the floor.

“Insolent, blind dogs! Kneel before your rightful sovereign before I strip your noble houses of their titles, seize your family estates, and reduce your entire bloodlines to ash!” the Kingmaker bellowed, his voice carrying an immense acoustic pressure that rattled the heavy mahogany window frames and shattered the decorative glass vials on the side tables.

Noah, clutching his broken and swollen jaw, paled in sheer, existential horror. Dragging his battered, bruised body across the floor alongside Alaric, Seraphina, and Chloe, who had just crept terrified into the room, they slammed their foreheads violently against the ground. They trembled like leaves in a gale, weeping softly right in front of the boy they had spent three agonizing months beating, starving, and humiliating.

The Kingmaker reached deep into his purple silk robes and pulled out an ancient, yellowed parchment scroll sealed with royal wax. With a flick of his wrist, he broke the seal and unrolled it, allowing the glowing, magical illustration to float gently in the air between them. It was a centuries-old portrait depicting the legendary First Emperor of the realm, a tall, imposing figure with his bare back turned, displaying the exact six-petaled black lotus tattoo stamped clearly between Kelvin's shoulder blades.

“Look upon the sacred crest of the Sovereign of Zero,the long-lost bloodline of our true, absolute ruler” the Kingmaker declared, his voice trembling with a reverent, holy zeal

“No, listen to me. Just stop and listen for a second! This is a massive mistake, I am not your king, i don't even belong to this world. Three months ago, I was just a regular student on Earth, I was sitting in my university library reading a history textbook late at night when thunder struck outside. The lights flashed, I lost consciousness, and the next second I woke up shivering on the icy marble steps of this academy. I don't have magic, I don't have a noble family, and I definitely don't have some divine tattoo from your legends!” Kelvin interrupted, holding up his bandaged hands, desperately trying to put an end to the madness.

The Kingmaker listened, but instead of being taken aback, a warm, knowing smile spread across the old man's face. He waved a dismissive, aristocratic hand as if Kelvin’s explanation only served to confirm his sacred status

 “The cosmic realm-shift. The ancient prophecies explicitly foretold that the true heir’s soul would be hidden far beyond the stars, shielded in a realm entirely devoid of ether until the divine throne called him back. Your sudden arrival through the thunder in the library was no accident, Your Highness, it was the grand tapestry of destiny weaving itself into reality” The Kingmaker said softly, bowing his head once more in deep respect. 

“I am telling you, I am just an ordinary guy…’

“The grand throne of the Great Sovereign has sat vacant for three long centuries, waiting for the true core to return. The academy, the surrounding cities, the spires, all of it belongs to you. Furthermore, the ancient ancestral vaults beneath the royal capital remain sealed by the Primeval Zero-Mark. Millions of pure gold trade-bars, mountains of platinum sigils, mountain-high reserves of refined silver, and thousands of legendary divine artifacts kept in reserve for three hundred years belong solely to you, Sire. Your forefathers' endless, unimaginable wealth has simply been awaiting its master” The Kingmaker cut him off smoothly, his voice filled with overwhelming, unshakeable reverence.

 Kelvin stared at the old man, his head pounding violently as he looked from the bowing Kingmaker to Dean Martins, who was still cowering on the floor and finally down at Noah, Alaric, and the girls weeping in the blood on the tiles. He flatly refused to believe a single word of it. It was too insane, too absurd, and far too convenient. He wasn't a king, he wasn't a divine heir, and he certainly wasn't about to accept some fairytale handed to him by the very mages who had spent ninety days treating him like scum.

“I can't believe this”