REBORN IN A WORLD OF MAGIC AND TALENT, I AWAKENED THE HB SS

Leave The Rest To Me

‎Memories that weren't mine flooded every part of my being, engraving themselves deep into my bones, flesh, and blood. The pain lasted only a few minutes on the outside, but within my mind, it felt as though decades had passed. Countless scenes flashed before my eyes.

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‎"Look at him—the half-breed monster," a child sneered.

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‎"Royalty or not, someone with dangerous blood like his shouldn't be allowed within the walls of the academy," a high noblewoman declared.

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‎"You're a defect in this family, my dear half-brother," Lily whispered into his ear as he cut his ninth birthday cake.

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‎"Should someone like him even be allowed to attend a grand royal ball?" the masked nobles murmured as the young Richard entered the hall alongside his mother.

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‎"Look at him," a noblewoman scoffed. "Impure blood."

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‎"Dear child, don't listen to them. Mama will always be with you until the very end. Stand firm and hold your head high—be proud like a dragon and fearless, even arrogant, like an orc."

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‎Gara encouraged him with a warm smile, gently patting his back.

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‎Laughter. Humiliation. Loneliness. Despair.

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‎A life that was never mine, yet had now become a part of me.

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‎I had inherited the body of Richard Alucard, the half-breed son of King Alucard Bonefire and his official consort, the renowned Orc Warrior, Gara Bloodfist. Since the day of his birth, Richard had been a prince despised by many members of the royal family. 

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‎The nobles mocked him behind closed doors, while some were bold enough to do so openly. Even a few arrogant commoners looked down upon him because of the blood that flowed through his veins. Half dragon. Half orc. Neither side truly accepted him.

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‎For years, he endured their ridicule in silence. He never fought back. Never resisted. Never raised his head proudly. Instead, he carried guilt, shame, depression, and loneliness within his heart until they slowly consumed him. 

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‎Then, last night, he finally gave up. Unable to bear the burden any longer, he ended his life using a rare poison found only within the deadly lands of the Riftscar Badlands.

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‎"Pathetic," I scoffed. Slowly, I rose from the ground and stretched my limbs. 

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‎"There are two kinds of people in this world." My crimson eyes narrowed. "The first are the weak. People who spend their lives blaming fate for their misfortune, they accept their weakness and kneel before the strong. 

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‎Though, every now and then, a rare few emerge from among them—individuals who refuse to surrender. Through sheer willpower, relentless effort, and perhaps a bit of luck or family support, they rise beyond their limitations. Such people are called Victors. They came. They saw. They suffered. And they conquered.

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‎A faint smirk formed on my lips. "The second ones are often the true monsters. The chosen. Those blessed from birth with talent, power, lineage, and destiny itself. Their paths may be obstructed by rival powers, ancient enemies, or unforeseen circumstances, but eventually they always reach the summit. 

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‎They are called Conquerors. They came. They saw. They ruled. They controlled. And when death finally came for them, they died on their own terms.

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‎My gaze drifted toward the large mirror standing across the room. "This boy..." I laughed quietly. "Even after being mocked and disgraced his entire life, he still possessed blood capable of rivaling gods." The blood of a mighty king flowed through him. The blood of a legendary orc warrior flowed through him. 

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‎His potential was immense. Terrifying, even. Yet instead of tempering his body, strengthening his mind, and cultivating his power, he spent years listening to the opinions of weaklings. The opinions of insects. How amusing. Two powerful races united and somehow produced a coward.

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‎I stood before the mirror and examined my reflection: silver-white hair, sharp features, crimson eyes, and a body sculpted by noble bloodlines. Despite the traces of weakness in his expression, the potential hidden beneath was undeniable. 

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‎"You died at the right time, boy," I stared into the reflection. "Rest wherever your soul has gone." A cold smile spread across my face. "Leave the rest to me."

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‎Deep crimson aura leaked from my body. The room trembled. I clenched my fists tightly. The pressure instantly increased. "Watch carefully." My grin widened. "I'll show you how someone born strong dominates the world." A sinister laugh escaped my lips. Mana surged violently through my veins. Cracks immediately spread across the mirror. 

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‎The surrounding air distorted. The atmosphere grew heavy. Even breathing became difficult.

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‎Moments later—BOOM! The mirror shattered into countless pieces. Fragments scattered across the floor. A terrifying murderous intent filled the chamber, causing the temperature to drop.

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‎Then out of the blue a knock echoed from the grand double doors. I exhaled sharply. A faint trail of ashen breath escaped my lips. 

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‎"Prince Richard?" A timid female voice called from outside. For some reason, I recognized it instantly. The memories of this body supplied the answer before I could think, since childhood she has been my personal maid — though her timid nature has never changed. "Your mother requests your presence in the Royal Hall."

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‎The doors slowly opened. A green-skinned orc maid stepped inside. Chloe. That was her name. She possessed modest curves and soft features, though nervousness dominated her expression. She wore a long dark gown with a neatly tied white cloth around her neck. 

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‎Her eyes remained lowered respectfully. The moment she entered, she froze. Her gaze widened. Then quickly dropped to the floor. A blush spread across her cheeks.

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‎Only then did I realize the reason. 

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‎"U-Uhm..." she stammered nervously. "Prince Richard... you're not wearing anything."

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‎I glanced down briefly before chuckling. How interesting. The previous Richard's memories stirred slightly. He had admired her from afar for years yet never once found the courage to approach her. Annoying. 

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‎His hesitation was almost painful to witness.

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‎I began walking toward her. Each step was calm and measured. Yet the pressure radiating from my body made the atmosphere feel increasingly oppressive. 

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‎Chloe instinctively stepped backward. Her breathing quickened. Fear flashed through her eyes. The aura I emitted wasn't intentional. It simply leaked naturally. And she could feel it. Something had changed. Something dangerous. Something she couldn't understand.

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‎I stopped several feet away and looked down at her. "What's wrong, Chloe?" I asked casually.

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‎She immediately lowered her head. "N-Nothing, Your Highness." Her voice trembled. "I merely wished to deliver Lady Gara's message."

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‎Interesting. The fear in her voice was unmistakable. And for some reason, my senses felt sharper than ever before. I could hear her heartbeat. I could smell the faint scent of anxiety clinging to her skin. I could practically feel the tension coursing through her body. 

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‎Perhaps this was one of the racial abilities hidden within Richard's bloodline. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Either way, it fascinated me.

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‎"Raise your head." My voice was calm. Chloe hesitated before slowly obeying. Her emerald eyes met mine. For a brief moment, silence filled the room.

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‎Her heartbeat echoed loudly in my sharpened ears, pounding like a wild horse that had been running without rest for half a day.

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