It’s been years since I entered Hwaeon Academy.

  Even though I already knew more than most, I couldn’t disobey my parents. And in that time… my wives have given birth.

  Hana and Mirae gave birth to sons.

  Yura gave birth to a daughter.

  That afternoon, a letter from home arrived.

  My room, as always, was clean—lined with books, scrolls, and whatever I could use to keep my mind sharp. Just like in my past life.

  I picked up a plain sheet of paper, took a deep breath, and began writing letters to those dearest to me.

  Letter to My Wives

  I’ve decided to name our two sons Jin Haon and Jin Haneul.

  And our daughter… I’ve named her Jin Areum.

  Saranghae, my beloveds.

  Just wait a little longer.

  One day, I’ll return. Not as the boy you knew—but as a man. A better man. A king worthy of standing beside you.

  Though only a few years have passed, it feels like a hundred without you. Because of your love, I think more clearly. I breathe more freely. I dream bigger.

  In two more years, our babies will walk. I want to be there when they do. I want them to know their father is real—not just a name whispered in bedtime stories.

  I’ll make the world remember me.

  And then, I’ll come home.

  Letter to Eomeoni and Appa

  Eomeoni. Appa.

  It’s been three years since we last saw each other.

  Appa, I remember your words. Your teachings.

  Eomeoni, your wisdom never left me.

  At the academy, I’ve studied beasts, magic, swords, and the mind itself. I won’t disappoint you. I swear it.

  Thank you—for everything.

  I love you both.

  Letter to My Three Servants

  Eunchae,

  It was always comforting to have you at my side. I hope you’re eating properly—even though I know you skip meals when I’m not there.

  Things here are well. The food is tested before it’s served, so there’s nothing to worry about.

  Baekho,

  Take it easy, old friend. You’ve always carried the weight of guarding me and my family.

  But now, I ask you to protect them for me—my parents, my wives. Just two more years. Then we’ll stand together again.

  Sohwa,

  Don’t worry about me. It’s been years since I’ve had a maid, but that’s fine. I’ve kept the room as spotless as you’d expect.

  I miss your quiet presence.

  Letter to Joon

  Joon,

  It’s been a year since we last met. I’m sure your healing skills have grown stronger. I hope you continue chasing your dream with everything you’ve got.

  Protect the town. I trust you.

  And… I’m still waiting for a poem. Whether you send it here or leave it at home, I’ll read every word.

  After finishing the letters, I looked around for a palace mailer—none were nearby.

  Then I raised my arm.

  From the skies above, my falcon swooped down and landed on my wrist. The air was cool, the wind calm.

  My falcon delivers faster than any courier in the kingdom.

  He knows where home is.

  It was summer. The academy was quieter. I wandered the city streets—watching street performers, listening to laughter, and visiting food stalls.

  At one stall, I saw sushi and kimchi—my wives’ favorites.

  At another, I bought three flowers—each one their favorite.

  A red rose.

  A white daisy.

  A yellow orchid.

  Even in summer, I trained harder than anyone.

  And I wasn’t alone.

  I’d made three close friends—princes of other kingdoms.

  Ryu Seohan, heir to the Kingdom of Geumryang, where I currently study.

  He mastered yin and yang essence by age thirteen—an incredible feat.

  Jo Wonyul, quiet and sharp, also a dual essence wielder.

  Ban Taesung, wild-hearted and fierce—he mastered it too.

  Each of them a genius in their own right.

  This summer, we decided to meet at the hunting grounds.

  The rustling of bushes. The chirping of birds. The steady breeze brushing through trees.

  The world was alive.

  Over the years, I’ve noticed beasts growing… different. Stronger. Wilder.

  I suspect they’ve been infected—corrupted by the same Fallen I once fought.

  The three of us gathered. We set up camp.

  A tent. A ring of stones for the fire—just enough to keep us safe without alerting too many creatures.

  “Let’s hunt at dusk,” said Ryu.

  We all nodded.

  Let the beasts rest now.

  Because tonight—we move.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The summer wind carried the scent of pine and dry earth as we moved through the ancient forest. Ryu Seohan led ahead, his silver hawk circling the canopy above. Wonyul walked in silence, panther close at his side, eyes scanning every shadow. Taesung trailed a bit behind, his laughter low as his boar spirit grunted and snorted through the underbrush.

  This wasn’t just a hunt.

  It was our first summer outside the walls together—four princes, no titles. Just instincts.

  Then the sky shifted.

  My falcon cried overhead, sharp and panicked.

  Wonyul stopped. “The trees are too still.”

  Taesung’s boar snorted, then backed away. That never happened.

  And Seohan turned to me, jaw clenched. “You feel it too?”

  I nodded. The air had turned thick. Metallic. Hot.

  Then the trees exploded.

  A creature burst from the clearing—black fur charred and pulsing with flame, limbs too long, mouth unhinged.

  I knew that beast.

  Or what it once was.

  A Fallen Fragment. Same kind I’d killed during my first awakening.

  Nova’s voice echoed in my head:

  “Warning: High-risk contamination. Estimated kill potential: 93%. Do not allow direct contact.”

  The creature roared—and time broke loose.

  The three princes moved.

  Seohan called lightning to his blade, the perfect channeling of Yang.

  Wonyul vanished into shadow, Yin cloaking his form in mirrored silence.

  Taesung’s energy pulsed in rhythm—Yin and Yang dancing across his wild boar’s tusks.

  I watched them fight—and for a moment, I didn’t move.

  Seohan struck first, blade singing with power. The beast staggered, fire erupting from its chest.

  Wonyul darted under its swing, carving runes into the earth that locked its leg in place.

  Taesung roared, charging in with his beast and smashing it sideways into the trunk of a tree.

  They moved like a unit—fast, skilled, unafraid.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  The Fallen twisted, roared—and a wave of corrupted essence blasted outward.

  The air turned red. The trees melted at the edges. Seohan was knocked back, bleeding.

  Wonyul staggered, clutching his side. Taesung hit the ground, dazed.

  System Nova:

  “Hostile energy escalating. Enemy has entered Phase Two.”

  I stepped forward.

  The creature turned its gaze on me. Recognition burned in its hollow eyes.

  “Remember me?” I whispered.

  Asherign ignited. The living chain burst from my arm in a storm of molten ash, wrapping around me like a storm circling fire.

  The Fallen charged. I didn’t move.

  “Time Structure—Engage.”

  The world slowed.

  Its claws came down—

  I moved in a blink.

  My chain struck the first leg—shattered bone.

  Spun to the second—burned it to cinders.

  The beast screamed—but it was too late.

  “Fire Essence—Flare.”

  My chain lit up like the sun.

  I dragged the beast down with a single pull—then raised my hand and blasted it with fire straight through the chest.

  It wailed once.

  And collapsed into ash.

  Silence.

  Ash fell like snow again. Like it always did.

  I turned. The three princes stood, bruised, but alive.

  Seohan looked at me—then lowered his head in a warrior’s bow.

  Wonyul whispered, “You’ve fought this before…”

  Taesung was the first to grin. “Next time, we’ll kill it together.”

  I gave a small nod.

  “Next time,” I said, “we won’t let it come this close.”

  Nova’s voice whispered again:

  “Three kings. One shadow. The world is shifting.”

  And deep down… I knew this was only the beginning.

  System Nova

  You have quite essence

  Essence increase

  The night drew near, so we made our way back to camp.

  The beast we’d slain wasn’t edible—its body too corrupted—so we left it where it fell.

  Back at the fire, we sat in a quiet circle, the flames crackling between us.

  We talked for a while.

  I told the three princes about my life—about my kingdom… and my three wives.

  They were a bit shocked, considering my age.

  They laughed, shook their heads, and called it “unbelievable.”

  None of them were married yet, so I suppose it was a bit of a flex.

  They shared pieces of their own lives too—their parents, their pressure, their hopes.

  And for that moment, we weren’t princes.

  Just boys under the stars.

  Eventually, silence returned.

  We leaned back. Let the fire burn low.

  And one by one, sleep took us.

  Darkness settled gently over the clearing.

  The sun rose slow and golden, casting long shadows over the polished stone of Hwaeon Academy’s inner courtyard. Dew still clung to the grass. The birds returned, chirping like nothing had happened.

  But I could still feel the heat of ash behind my ribs.

  We stood there—me, Seohan, Wonyul, and Taesung—just inside the palace gates. The guards saluted quietly as we passed. No fanfare. No words.

  We didn’t need them.

  Seohan’s hawk perched above him again, calm but watchful. Wonyul’s panther slinked at his heels, and Taesung’s boar snorted softly beside him like a sleepy friend.

  I could still see the dried blood on Seohan’s sleeve.

  “We’ll heal fast,” he said, his voice low. “But we’ll remember.”

  I nodded.

  Wonyul looked up at the morning sky. “I’ll be sketching what happened last night. Even if no one else ever sees it.”

  “That’s your way,” I replied.

  Then Taesung yawned—messy hair, scratched cheek, crooked grin.

  “We almost died,” he said, stretching. “But damn… wasn’t that kind of fun?”

  I smirked a little. “You’re the only one who’d say that out loud.”

  He laughed, then stepped forward and clapped my shoulder.

  “You saved us. Again. Don’t think we’ll forget that, Jinseo.”

  I looked at the three of them. Princes of kingdoms. Sons of power.

  But this morning, they looked just like boys who survived something together.

  And that meant more than titles ever could.

  Seohan gave me a final glance. “Until the next trial.”

  Wonyul bowed slightly. “Rest well, Yeonhwa.”

  Taesung gave a mock salute. “Don’t go off saving the world without us.”

  They each turned and walked off—back to their own chambers, their own paths. Their beasts followed close.

  And I stood there in the courtyard alone for a moment longer.

  The morning breeze felt cooler now. Cleaner.

  But I could still smell faint ash on the wind.

  I turned toward the eastern wing—toward my chamber—and walked in silence.

  The door clicked shut behind me.

  Silence.

  Only the soft rustle of my fox spirit as it circled once by the window before curling up into sleep. The scent of pine and ash still clung to my robes.

  I hadn’t taken more than five steps before Nova’s voice reached me.

  System Nova:

  “Threat classification confirmed. The creature you fought today was a derivative of the original Fallen Son.”

  I walked toward the basin, washed the dried sweat and dust from my face, and stared at the water.

  It didn’t help. I could still feel its heat.

  Still hear the way it screamed.

  “It was stronger,” I said quietly. “It didn’t just attack—it hunted.”

  Nova:

  “Correct. The infection has grown. The Fallen Son’s essence doesn’t simply kill—it alters. It lingers. Infects.”

  “And what it infects, it changes.”

  I dried my hands and sat near the open window, letting the wind cool the heat still in my chest.

  “It got to a beast this time,” I murmured. “Twisted it until it couldn’t think, only rage.”

  Nova:

  “That is the danger. The essence from the Fallen Son doesn’t discriminate. Animal, plant, or human—any living thing is susceptible.”

  “And once corrupted, they are no longer themselves. They become vessels for something else.”

  I stared down at my palm, where Asherign usually slept beneath the skin.

  It pulsed faintly.

  “And there could be more like it already walking among us.”

  Nova:

  “Highly likely. Some may remain dormant—untriggered. Waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  Nova:

  “For a surge. A moment of weakness. A rise in surrounding essence. Or even… simple proximity to one another.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

  “So it spreads like a plague.”

  Nova:

  “No… it spreads like memory.”

  That made me pause.

  Nova:

  “Each time you destroy one, its remnants remember. They echo through the fragments that remain. The more you fight, the more they recognize you.”

  “Then I’m a beacon to them,” I said.

  Nova:

  “Yes. But you’re also their end.”

  “Your fire essence, your bond to Asherign, your precision—all of it counteracts their infection. You are not just immune… you’re their opposite.”

  I stood and walked to the window again.

  Below, students laughed in the courtyards. Merchants passed through the far gate with wagons full of fruit and scrolls. Nothing had changed. But everything had.

  “They think the worst threats are from outside these walls.”

  Nova:

  “But the true threat… walks beside them.”

  I glanced down at my fox spirit—sleeping soundly, tail flicking now and then.

  Then I turned to the quiet chamber, lit by the fading sun.

  “I’ll be ready next time,” I said.

  Nova:

  “And I will stand with you.”

  The sun had long since fallen behind the towers of Hwaeon Academy. The courtyard emptied. The chambers dimmed. The world around me quieted.

  But I wasn’t done.

  I stood in the training hall beneath the academy—a space reserved for advanced students. Nova unlocked it with a single pulse of energy through the walls.

  System Nova:

  “Simulation chamber engaged. Would you like to review battle data from today’s encounter?”

  “No,” I said, stepping onto the platform.

  “Give me worse.”

  Nova hesitated.

  “Confirmed. Generating advanced Fallen-class simulation.

  Level: Lethal.

  Opponents: Five.

  Environment: Dense forest. Fog coverage: 80%.”

  The walls shimmered—and the air shifted.

  Dark trees formed from light and shadow. Fog poured in. The wind howled, and red eyes flickered between the trunks.

  I drew my blade slowly.

  Asherign slipped down my arm, alive, waiting.

  The Fallen emerged.

  Five of them.

  Each one more twisted than the last—claws longer, aura thicker, their corrupted forms no less terrifying even in light.

  But I wasn’t afraid.

  I was angry.

  Nova:

  “Combat initiated.”

  They struck first.

  And I moved.

  Chain snapping. Blade flashing. Fire igniting. The chamber lit with white-hot light as I danced through shadow and flame.

  One down.

  Two.

  Three.

  I didn’t hold back this time.

  I let my essence burn.

  I let Asherign scream.

  I let them remember why they feared me.

  Nova:

  “Vital signs peaking. Core resonance active. Suggest cooldown—”

  “No,” I muttered. “Again.”

  Ash fell. The simulation faded. The chamber cooled.

  And I stood alone in the silence.

  Sweating. Breathing. Alive.

  I looked at my reflection in the obsidian floor.

  Not a prince.

  Not a student.

  A weapon forged in secret.

  Nova whispered, almost proud:

  “You’re becoming who you were meant to be.”

  I closed my eyes for one breath.

  And said,

  “Reset the simulation.”