Chapter 1: The Legend Returns
Ashes blanketed the earth, the skies above a dull, lifeless brown—an endless stretch of dead sky, a color that seemed to swallow all light. The once-vibrant world had been reduced to dust and ruin, its cities crumbled, its forests turned to barren wastelands, as if time itself had been exhausted in a single, brutal breath. It was a land that seemed to mourn its own existence, the air heavy with the stench of decay and forgotten history.
I, Le Arno Daven, have walked these dead lands for more than 600 years—all because of an assassination.
But this is not the only world I've lived in.
Before this hellish place, I had died in an accident—a crash in a world where cars roared through streets, planes soared above, and phones allowed people to touch the stars with a swipe of their fingers. I had no idea, when I took my last breath, that my soul would be reborn into a land where magic flowed like blood and swords danced with the wind.
And just when I thought I'd finally have the chance to live my life to the fullest… betrayal, assassination—death—came crashing down. It thrust me into this nightmare realm. Even its name makes people shudder: The Worlds of Dooms. A place where the fallen rise from the corpses of their enemies, where people from different worlds clash and perish. Yet, I stood tall above it all. Until now.
A nightmare dimension where survival meant conquering fear itself, one broken heart at a time.
Six centuries passed. Time, cruel and unyielding, forged me into a legend—an existence whispered in fear across these shadowed lands. But now, at long last, I have what I need. The key to return.
It's time… for Isekai.
And yet, when I returned, I thought I would wake in a new world, in a new life. But everything had changed.
They told me I hadn't died. I had been in a coma for almost five years. The blade meant to end my life had failed, stopped by my loyal butler's intervention. My body had remained in the kingdom of Carbol, while my soul had drifted through realms. I had lived two lives at once, caught between realities, a prisoner of time and fate.
Now I carry the memories of both worlds—one of technology and speed, the other of magic and destruction.
This world—my true home—is no less magical. It pulses with power. Kingdoms rise and fall like the seasons. But unlike the nightmare realm, peace still breathes here… if barely.
And I will protect it. Because now, more than ever, I want to live my life to the fullest.
The Stellar Year 960,
The war between humans, elves, dwarves, beasts, and demons had nearly destroyed civilization. The Demon King and his armies had razed half the continent. Humanity had stood on the brink of extinction… until five legendary heroes rose, like angels descending from the heavens, to protect this world.
Together, they had pushed back the darkness.
In the aftermath, the world was divided into five continents and eight kingdoms: Carbol, Fenrish, Delcia [human kingdom], Arci, Alsia [elves kingdom], Stark [dwarven kingdom], Felio [beast kingdom], and lastly, Istar [Demon realm].
Carbol Kingdom — Royal Villa
"Do you hear me, Daven?"
Feona's voice sliced through the air, sharp and impatient, as though I were deaf.
"Yeah, yeah. Loud and clear, princess."
I leaned back on the velvet sofa, casually cleaning out my ear with my pinky, pretending to be as uninterested as I felt. Honestly, I was more interested in the dust floating in the room than the conversation.
She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her face scrunching into a royal frown that could break glass. "Not just princess. Didn't I tell you not to call me that?"
"Alright, alright… Princess Feona," I drawled, tossing her a mocking bow. The smirk I threw her way only deepened her scowl.
"You're nothing like your brothers and sisters," she muttered, frustration spilling from her every word. "Why do you always fool around like this?"
"Yeah, yeah… heard that one a thousand times."
I stood up, stretching until my back cracked, letting the silence between us fill with the sound of my lazy movements.
Everyone compared me to them—my brilliant, graceful, perfect siblings. They were the shining examples of royal blood—strong, poised, respected. And me? I was the Trash Prince. The disappointment. The one who always seemed out of place in the kingdom of Carbol. But honestly? I didn't mind.
"Stop slacking!"
A sharp thwack cracked across the back of my head.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?"
I blinked at Arsia, rubbing the sting out of my skull.
"Because you're the dumbest and the weakest. Duh~ Obviously," she said, her lips curled into a mischievous grin that was as sharp as her words.
"Right, right…"
I waved her off with a dramatic sigh, already bored with the conversation.
"Why are you always so sarcastic?" Feona asked, her frown deepening.
"Maybe because no one expects anything from me."
I let the words hang in the air, then flopped back onto the couch, letting my exhaustion bleed through my voice. "No one's going to fall for me, praise me, or bet on me. So why bother pretending?"
"Yeah, because you're thick-headed."
"Boring... bo-bo-boring," I said in my best bard impression, with a smirk .
"You're falling behind, Daven," Arsia snapped, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and concern. "Don't you want to get into Aristeliya Magic Academy?"
The name alone carried weight. Aristeliya—the academy of legends. It was the proving ground where magic-born prodigies became living myths. At fifteen, every magic-bearer was required to attend. It was a place where dreams were forged, if you had what it took.
"I never said I wanted to go," I muttered, looking out the window, beyond the walls of the royal villa, where the green hills rolled under a muted sky.
"Shut up already!" Feona barked. "We won't even get to see you again once school starts!"
Feona and Arsia—twins and daughters of the Fenrish King—were the only ones who still treated me like I mattered, despite the weight of my failure hanging over my shoulders.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going," I said, standing up again, my tone flat. "I guess Father already made the arrangements."
"Then stop slacking off and study for once. You need to catch up," Feona urged, the exasperation clear in her voice.
"Forget it, alright? I like who I am."
I flashed them a lazy smile and flicked my fingers in a mock salute.
Feona narrowed her eyes, her expression hardening with the faintest edge of concern. "Well, don't get lazy again."
They didn't understand. I, the eldest son of the Carbol Kingdom—the Crown Prince—had been stabbed in the back five years ago. They thought I would die, but my butler saved me. While my body lay in a coma, my soul had been hurled into a nightmare realm. Six hundred years passed in that hell.
No one knows the truth—or ever will.
Now I'm back. And the "weakest prince" is no more. I've become something else. Something unstoppable. But that's a secret.
I am Le Arno Daven.
And the legend is returning.
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