The tale of the Prince of Anqerise, Vastarael Richinaria, spread like wildfire across the continents of Spheraphase. His name became synonymous with courage and survival, a symbol of resilience that would be spoken of for generations.

  The image of a thirteen-year-old boy, alone and outmatched, holding off a god of flames for hours in a barrier that no mortal could breach, became a legend.

  To the people of the continent, Vastarael was no longer just the young prince of Anqerise. He had transcended that role in their eyes. He was a warrior, a hero, a figure of myth and history. There were whispers in every corner of the empire, in every tavern, every hall of power, about the incredible feat he had accomplished.

  "A thirteen-year-old boy, against a god…"

  It was unfathomable to many, the sheer magnitude of his bravery. Most gods, even those with power rivaling the heavens themselves, would have bowed to such a fate. But Vastarael didn't. He fought on, not just to survive, but to outlast his enemies until the first rays of dawn.

  His survival, even without the death of the flame god Stephos, was hailed as an achievement of unparalleled bravery. He had stayed alive inside the unbreakable Tenth Star Barrier for a full nineteen hours, a task that had seemed impossible. Gods and mortals alike marveled at how, against all odds, Vastarael had managed to endure, holding onto his will and his life when most would have perished.

  Even the most hardened warriors, the ones who had seen death and destruction countless times, could not comprehend the fortitude it had taken for the young prince to fight off the effects of exhaustion, pain, and imminent death.

  He had made it and for the people of Spheraphase, that was enough to elevate him in their eyes to a level that few mortals or immortals could reach.

  While Vastarael fought for his life, another battle raged behind the walls of the palace. The gods who had infiltrated the palace, their forces undermining the security of Anqerise, were swiftly and decisively dealt with.

  Opera and Caresse, the wives of the Royal Family, were no strangers to battle. Together, they took on the invading gods with a ferocity that only millennia of training and loyalty could produce. The gods who had thought to usurp the throne of Anqerise or destroy its ruling family were caught off guard by the sheer power and determination of Opera and Caresse.

  It took hours for them to eliminate the threat. Each god who had infiltrated the palace met their end at the hands of these two warriors, who fought tirelessly to protect their home.

  Their victory was complete; not a single life was lost in the palace, save for the lingering injuries of those who had fought to keep the floating palace safe.

  The people living in the palace hailed the success of their defenders but the toll of the night weighed heavily on them all. Though no one died, those who had fought were left battered and broken, the cost of such a victory not easily ignored.

  When the dust settled and the battle had ended, it was clear that Vastarael had not come out of this unscathed. The prince was in a bad state, far worse than anyone had anticipated.

  His body was covered in burns, his skin in places was raw from the flames and steam he had withstood and his internal injuries were deep. His essence was drained to the point of near-depletion and his physical state was nothing short of catastrophic.

  The strain of sustaining the water runes, of continually renewing his essence with the bodies of the monsters and of enduring the god's nuclear attack had left him on the brink of death. He had survived yes, but... the cost was high. His body had entered a state of emergency, shutting down as it struggled to heal itself.

  For a long time, there was no sign of improvement. His wounds festered, the burns not healing as quickly as they should have, and he remained in a deep, unconscious state.

  The healers of Anqerise did what they could, but it was clear that this wasn't a simple matter of physical injuries—it was his very essence that needed to be restored.

  In a desperate bid to save his son, the Monarch of Anqerise, Vastarael's father, rushed back from a distant continent. It had taken minutes for him to make the journey, but his arrival was nothing short of a miracle.

  With his presence, the healing process accelerated. He was able to channel his power, restoring Vastarael's body and soul, helping to replenish his essence in ways the young prince could not manage on his own. Slowly, but surely, Vastarael's state improved.

  During all of this, Lysameria, Vastarael's mother, had insisted that Adelasta stay close to him. It was a precaution, a necessary step for Vastarael's recovery. The Reversal Ascension, that bond between them, was more than just a link between two individuals.

  It was something that could accelerate Vastarael's healing process, but only if Adelasta remained near him. Lysameria, though she didn't explain fully, knew that without this link, Vastarael's recovery would be significantly slower.

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  Adelasta, despite her own injuries, obeyed, staying at his side without question. She could feel the strange pull of the Ascension when they were close, a force that seemed to bind them together even when she wasn't sure of what it meant. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced and though she wanted to question it, she couldn't bring herself to do so.

  Instead, she watched over him, staying with him as his body began to heal under the care of his father and the palace's healers. She couldn't help but wonder what this all meant, especially after the exchange of words and the core, but for now, she had no answers.

  It was a full week before Vastarael finally stirred. His body had been through so much that his recovery was slow, even with the help of his parents.

  "Oh. Hey, Phaenora. Did I get any achievements like how those light novel protagonists—"

  He paused and looked at the sight before him.

  Adelasta.

  She sat there, slouched in a chair by his bed, her head tilted slightly to the side as she slept, holding a pillow on her hands. Her breathing was steady, soft, almost melodic.

  Her long, red hair framed her face in a way that could only be described as breathtaking. Her features looked like they belonged to a goddess, untouched by time or hardship. Despite the harshness that often defined her character, in this moment, she seemed completely vulnerable.

  Yet, what caught his attention most was the orange core still resting in her hand, glowing faintly even in the dim light of the room.

  His thoughts flickered back to the battle.

  The flooding of the city, the burning flames, the pressure, the god. It felt surreal now, almost distant, as if it had all happened to someone else. He looked back at Adelasta, her figure still as perfect as ever in the glow of the low-lit room.

  [

  Vastarael couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in his chest at that. But what drew his attention even more was the way the orange core glowed in her palm. He had given it to her, knowing it would grant her strength, knowing that she could tap into its power.

  The idea that she had accepted it, and that it was with her now, made something stir within him.

  He could feel the weight of Phaenora's words, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

  "I didn't think…" His voice trailed off as he watched her, a thousand thoughts racing in his mind. "She'll be stronger now, won't she? It wasn't just for me, was it?"

  Vastarael took a deep breath, feeling the strain in his body. His muscles were still sore from the battle and though his essence was returning, it was not at its full strength yet. The weight of Phaenora's words hung over him, but he couldn't ignore the sense of relief that came from knowing Adelasta had made it through this ordeal.

  He reached out, his hand shaking slightly, and placed it gently over hers, feeling the warmth of the core beneath her palm. She didn't stir, still deep in slumber. There was something peaceful about the scene, despite the complexities of everything that had transpired.

  His hand slowly moved away from hers, and his gaze shifted back to the ceiling. A small sigh escaped his lips.

  [

  "What do you mean?"

  "I will die—"

  His eyes widened.

  He almost died. His mother held him the second he collapsed. Only this time, he didn't die.

  Vastarael was speechless. He escaped his fate. He did the impossible.

  "Wait. Has my fate changed?"

  He was silent.

  "Wait. My destiny says that I'll always be rewarded after I suffer. Did I get anything?"

  The second he did, his eyes widened in utter shock.

  ______

  ______

  He noticed something different.

  First, what was a Codex?

  Two, why was he known as the Ingenious Prince?

  He looked at the description of the Codex. His lips were wide agape.

  _____

  -----

  "Wait a sec. This is actually cool... hang on. It comes with Enchantments too?!"