Capital City
The sun beat down on the capital, flooding its wide streets and tall spires with light. But no brightness could wash away the stench.
Horse manure clung to the cobblestones, the alleys reeked of rot, and the slums sprawled like open wounds at the edge of the city.
A boy, no older than six, walked those streets with a retinue of armored guards at his back.
"Your Highness," one of them muttered, his eyes wary as they passed another cluster of beggars, "we should return to the palace. This isn't a place you should be."
"Samuel." The child's voice was soft, almost casual.
He looked at the guard, then at the ragged figures slumped against the walls. Their clothes were little more than rags, their faces hollow and tired.
"Don't you think they're pitiful?"
Samuel hesitated, scanning the crowd. A woman clutched a thin child to her chest; an old man stared blankly at nothing. The guard's jaw tightened.
"Yes… they are," he admitted. "But your safety comes first."
The boy didn't move. His small frame seemed out of place among the filth, yet his voice carried a weight far older than his years.
"This city is the richest in the kingdom," he said softly. "They call it the pearl of the land. And even here, people live like this. What do you think it's like in the villages the places no one ever looks at?"
Samuel met the young prince's eyes.
"I know, Your Highness… I grew up in places like that. Empty stomachs, cold nights, wondering if tomorrow would be worse than today. The farther you go from the palace, the harsher it gets."
He straightened, his voice steady.
"That's why you must live. One day, you'll have the power to change what men like me never could. Until then, it's our duty to keep you safe, no matter where you walk."
The boy's gaze swept over the slums once more.
"Then I'll remember this," he said quietly. "Every empty stomach, every cold night, every face that's given up on hope. When I wear the crown, I'll make sure no child grows up the way you did."
His tone was calm, yet the conviction in it made the air seem heavier. Samuel's heart swelled with something he always felt ever aince he has been tasked with ensuring the safety of the young prince.
"…Your Highness," he said at last, bowing his head, "if you hold to that conviction, then I swear you'll be a king the people will never forget. And I'll stand with you until that day comes."
The other guards said nothing, but something passed through them a silent understanding. They stood taller. For the first time, they weren't just royal guards following a boy; they were men who believed in the one they served.
The boy smiled faintly.
"Then come," he said, his voice gentle but sure.
The sound of armor followed him as they made their way through the narrow streets, each step echoing with quiet resolve.
As the palace towers came into view, a faint warmth stirred in the boy's chest. The feeling wasn't divine or magical just a quiet certainty that settled deep within him.
He glanced once more toward the streets they had left behind.
"I'll remember," he whispered.
And with that, the young prince continued toward the palace unaware that this single promise, spoken in the stench and sunlight of the capital, would one day change the fate of his kingdom.
The words faded, and the hum within him settled to silence.
Only yesterday, he had been nothing more than a confused child wandering gilded halls. For six years, he had lived as a prince, yet inside him lingered memories that were not his own fragments of another life clinging like shadows he could never shake off.
He remembered streets filled with cars, a world of offices and glowing screens the quiet monotony of an ordinary existence.
He had not been a hero, nor a scholar, nor anything remarkable. Just a man who had lived and died without leaving a mark. And yet, he had buried those memories deep, wearing the mask of a child because he had no choice.
But yesterday, on his birthday, something had changed.
The memories he had carried since birth were no longer a silent burden. Something had awakened within him. At first, the realization crushed him. Despair coiled in his chest when he finally understood what world he had been reborn into.
He should have been happy born with a golden spoon in hand, surrounded by luxury, servants, and comfort. But there was truth in the saying: ignorance is bliss.
Had he remained ignorant, perhaps he could have lived peacefully, free from the dread of knowing what lay ahead.
"I… I'm Rampossa the Third?" he had whispered in disbelief, staring into the polished mirror of his chambers.
A pale-haired boy with noble features stared back. His wide blue eyes reflected the panic of a man who suddenly understood too much.
The truth struck like a hammer. He wasn't just any prince.He was that prince the tragic king of Re-Estize.
A weak monarch remembered not for greatness, but for how his kingdom fell before the black tide of Ainz Ooal Gown.
The king of a nation, the highest authority in the land, reduced to an insect before the god of death.
Despair consumed him. His chest tightened. His breath came shallow.
I'm doomed… No matter what I do, this kingdom is destined to fall.
Then
A chime. Soft. Resonant. Unlike anything he had ever heard before.
It was… the System.
A voice only he could hear, gentle yet firm, filled his ears:
[System Activation Complete]
His eyes widened, heart racing. "A… a system? Like in the stories?"
Hope flared within him fragile but real. The memories that had once been a curse now felt like a gift. If the world had burdened him with the role of Rampossa III, then this was the counterbalance a tool that might let him rewrite fate itself, even if only his own.
With trembling hands, he willed the System to open.A soft chime answered his thought, and lines of faint light unfolded before him.
[Status Window]
Name: Rampossa III
Race: Human
Age: 6
Level: 1
AttributesSTR: 5 AGI: 4 INT: 17
Titles
Crown Prince (1/5) Symbol of royal succession; grants slight influence and recognition among the nobility. Progresses with acts befitting a ruler.
Traits
Reincarnated Memory (Passive): Retains logic and knowledge from a previous life.
Royal Bloodline (Passive): Slight increase in loyalty and recognition from subjects and subordinates.
System Features Unlocked
Stats– Inventory– Quests– Titles– Shop (Locked – Requires Territorial Authority)– Kingdom Development (Locked – Requires Territorial Authority)
Curious, he willed the dimmed "Kingdom Development" tab to open.
The interface flickered faintly, then stabilized into dull grey text:
[Kingdom Development]
Status: Inaccessible - Domain not registered under user.Requirement: Must be assigned or inherit a governable territory.
Sub-Tabs– Kingdom Shop: Locked (Territory required)– Resources: Gold: 100 Wood: 0 Stone: 0 Iron: 0 Food: 0
Territory: None assigned
He stared at the faint outlines of greyed icons granaries, workshops, barracks, chapels, a town hall, even a village square shimmering just beyond reach.
"So I can't build or plan until I have a domain," he murmured.
It made sense. This wasn't a toy or simulation. The System reflected reality. No ruler could build what wasn't his.
Still, the faint glow of the locked tab stirred something deep within him.Not frustration anticipation.
"That's it," he whispered that night, gripping his sheets tightly. "I'm not powerless. Not anymore. If I play this right… if I make the right choices… I can survive...I hope so?"
And so, when he spoke to Samuel and the others in the slums earlier that day, he had done so with deliberate purpose.
He needed more than titles and crowns. History had shown again and again that authority without power was an illusion.
Titles were fragile; strength was real.
Even if people stood behind a crown, without strength, it would crumble.
In this world, where magic was real and individuals could wield might greater than armies, the valor of one could outweigh the rule of kings.
In his past life, he had been ordinary, just another man swept along by the current of life. But here, in this world of gods and monsters, he could no longer afford to be ordinary.
He knew too well, when beings like the Players moved, even nations fell.And sometimes, when such beings chose differently… civilizations rose anew.
And now, with the guards marching proudly at his side, he could feel the weight of that choice settling on his shoulders. For the first time since his system's awakening, he wasn't carrying it alone.
He drew in a quiet breath, letting the thought settle, forcing his mind to ease from its racing overdrive. Then he raised his head. The streets of the capital stretched ahead, the sound of boots striking stone pulling him back to the present.
Eventually the rhythmic sound of boots against stone slowed as the group reached the looming gates of the palace. The guards on duty straightened, spears thudding lightlly as they saluted.
"Your Highness," one of them greeted, bowing low, standard protocol when meeting the royals.
The young prince gave a curt nod as the gates opened wide, The scenery change from the streets, to a one with lush grass, and trees inside the courtyard of Palace.
By the time he reached his chambers, the noise of the city and the march had faded into silence. A maid was already waiting for him at the front of his door, hands folded neatly in front of her. She moved forward, bowing with practiced eased towards him before opening the door for him.
Dinner would be held soon, his mother and father surely expect his presence, along with his younger brother, at the long table.
"Your Highness, dinner is ready." The maid with a brunette hair said.
The young prince looked at the mirror, with blue eyes clouded with unease.
'Six years old... and already finding ways to save the kingdom.' he muttered under his breath. Yet even as he said it, doubt gnawed at him.
What if the System wasn't enough? What if these titles and numbers were nothing more than illusions to keep him moving forward? Against beings who could erase armies with a gesture, would this strange gift even matter?
A chill traced his spine. If it failed him, if he was still too weak… then this kingdom...his family...would be nothing but dust beneath the tide to come.
He let out a long sigh, shoulders easing as he turned from the mirror.
"Well… one step at a time. If I start panicking now, I'll go bald before I'm even king." He paused, chuckling under his breath. "Then again… maybe that'd make me strong. Worked out for Saitama, didn't it?"
The quiet laugh lightened his self-imposed dread, a small reminder that to worry about the future is futile, as the present is real, worrying only drains his strength he needs today.