Chapter 1 : Chapter 1
Chapter 1. Born in Another World
In the royal palace of the Kroll Kingdom on the Carlos Continent, candle flames flickered, casting shifting light upon the intricately carved pillars of the corridors.
Suddenly, several loud cries of a newborn baby burst from the delivery room, tearing through the silence of the late night.
Outside the door, Kroll II abruptly straightened his back. The tension in his shoulders melted away, and the stern expression on his face was replaced by irrepressible joy.
He could not help but laugh aloud and raised his hand to pat the shoulder of the guard beside him.
“Did you hear that? A healthy little fellow!”
At that moment, a middle-aged man dressed in a noble court suit hurried over. As he bowed in salute, there was a trace of urgency in his voice.
“Your Majesty, urgent news from the Northern Frontier—barbarians have gathered an army of one hundred thousand and are fiercely attacking the Despair Fortress. Duke Derek requests that the kingdom immediately dispatch reinforcements.”
The smile on Kroll II’s face vanished instantly, his brows drawing tightly together.
The Despair Fortress was the shield of the Northern Frontier. Once it fell, the barbarians would be able to march straight south without resistance.
He fell silent for a moment in thought.
“Transmit my order. Dispatch the Royal Ninth Legion north immediately and place them under the command of Duke Derek.”
After a brief pause, his tone grew harsher.
“Tell Derek this—if he cannot even deal with a band of barbarians, does he not feel ashamed to call himself the Guardian of the Northern Frontier?”
The noble bowed again.
“I will deliver the order at once.”
With that, he turned and hurried away, his footsteps fading into the end of the corridor.
Inside the delivery room, the newly born William blinked his dark, round eyes and curiously observed his surroundings.
Antique-style bed curtains, a midwife dressed in rough cloth garments, and the faint scent of medicinal herbs lingering in the air.
Instinctively, he raised his tiny hands before his eyes. Looking at those delicate little fists, a sudden thought flashed through his mind.
Did I… transmigrate?
The Third Princess Consort, Vivian, leaned weakly against her pillow. Her face was pale, yet the gentle warmth of motherhood could not be concealed.
She reached out and softly stroked William’s downy hair, her eyes brimming with affection.
With a creak, the door opened, and Kroll II strode inside.
Vivian struggled to sit up and pay her respects, but he pressed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Lie down. You’ve just given birth—do not move around.”
He carefully took William from the midwife. His movements were somewhat clumsy but extraordinarily gentle.
The little fellow looked at the unfamiliar man before him—wearing a golden crown and carrying an imposing presence—then glanced around at the lavish furnishings.
A vague realization formed in his mind.
Have I… become a prince?
At the thought, he could not help but giggle, his small hands waving unconsciously.
Kroll II felt warmth rise in his chest at the sound of the child’s laughter, and the severity on his face softened considerably.
He lowered his head and smiled at Vivian.
“Vivian, look—he’s smiling at me! This little fellow isn’t shy at all.”
Seeing the father and son together, Vivian also smiled. The fatigue in her eyes gradually faded, replaced by quiet happiness.
William smacked his lips lightly, feeling the warmth of the king’s palm. In his heart, he thought silently:
If I really have become a prince… then the days ahead should be quite pleasant.
Six years passed like sand slipping through one’s fingers.
In the royal garden of the Kroll Kingdom’s palace, six-year-old William had grown into a delicate-featured little boy. He was practicing magic, his golden curls glimmering in the sunlight.
During those six years, the kingdom had not enjoyed peace.
The most troubling news always came from the Northern Frontier.
In the end, the Despair Fortress had still fallen to the barbarians.
When the news reached the palace, Kroll II smashed his favorite crystal goblet in fury. In his rage, many retreating nobles were hanged—except for the family of Duke Derek.
At the same time, the Royal Seventh and Tenth Legions were successively dispatched north. Even the court archmage Keli, known by the title “Crimson Chant,” led the entire Mage Corps to station themselves on the frontier.
After a brutal tug-of-war, the defensive line was barely stabilized.
Yet the barbarians continued to pour out from beyond the Despair Fortress like an endless tide. The battle line was still shrinking southward inch by inch. Each report that arrived at the palace made the atmosphere heavier.
William’s surroundings had also changed.
Over the past six years, the princess consorts had successively given birth to three more princes and two princesses. Together with the two princes and one princess already born to the Queen, the First Princess Consort, and the Second Princess Consort, the royal children now formed a lively crowd.
As the Fourth Prince, William was neither the most favored nor the most neglected.
He was not like the First Prince, who had been entrusted with great expectations from an early age and followed a Sky Knight to learn swordsmanship.
Nor was he like the Second Prince, who was eloquent and greatly admired by the court ministers.
Most of the time, William preferred to hide alone in the library, reading ancient books that recorded the secret histories of the continent. At other times, he would pester the palace mages with strange questions about elements and magic.
“Your Highness, His Majesty asks you to come to the study,” a maid’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
William stopped walking, brushed the grass clippings from his clothes, and nodded.
He knew that if his father summoned him at this hour, it was most likely about his studies again.
His father often said that a prince might not excel in martial strength, but he must never lack wisdom.
Passing through the long corridors, he found the study door slightly ajar. Voices drifted from inside—his father speaking with several ministers. He could vaguely hear phrases such as “grain supplies for the Northern Frontier” and “losses of the Mage Corps.”
William gently pushed the door open and performed a standard bow toward Kroll II.
“Father.”
Kroll II looked up. The fatigue on his face softened into a hint of warmth.
“Come here, William. I heard you have been learning the basic Fireball spell recently?”
“Yes, Father.” William walked to his side. “But I still cannot quite control the flow of the elements.”
Kroll II smiled and rubbed his head.
“Take it slowly. Remember—whether it is magic or swordsmanship, in the end everything depends on the heart of the one who wields it.”
William nodded obediently, pretending to be confused. Yet his gaze quietly swept across the nobles and ministers inside the study.
In his eyes, faint halos had silently appeared above everyone’s heads.
Perhaps because of his transmigration, from the moment he was born he had been able to glimpse the talent and aptitude of others.
After looking around once, he had already formed a judgment.
Only the old noble standing on the far left possessed the aptitude of a Golden Knight. The others were merely Silver or Bronze, and two of them barely qualified even as Bronze.
Withdrawing his gaze, he looked up at Kroll II. His voice carried the soft sweetness unique to a child.
“Father, I would like to choose a few servants to accompany me while I practice magic. Is that alright?”
Kroll II was flipping through documents on the desk. Hearing this, he smiled casually.
“That is a small matter. You may decide it yourself.”
Just as William was about to respond, the door to the study was suddenly knocked.
“Enter,” Kroll II called out.
A palace knight clad in silver armor quickly stepped inside. Dropping to one knee, he held up a letter sealed with wax in both hands.
“Your Majesty, urgent news from the Northern Frontier.”