Skimming through the flood of foreign memories in his mind, Arthur felt as if his consciousness had been tossed into a raging storm.
The fragile composure he had managed to gather after waking in this strange world shattered piece by piece as the truth of this body's past unfolded before him.
Each fragment of memory weighed heavily on him, and the deeper he delved, the more oppressive it became, pressing down on his thoughts until breathing itself felt like a struggle.
If his previous life had been an easy mode in a game, this existence was nothing short of nightmare difficulty. He now inhabited the body of Raizel Mal'akhi Drakar, the ninth son of one of the most formidable powers in the world. The Drakar Clan was not just influential; it was an ancient lineage whose name alone evoked fear and destruction.
Wherever their influence reached, kingdoms bowed, borders shifted, and countless lives were erased without so much as a ripple of consequence. To provoke the Drakar Clan wasn't bravery; it was simply delaying one's own demise out of sheer arrogance.
Yet within this monstrous family, Raizel's position was uniquely cursed. He was the bastard son of the Patriarch himself.
As Arthur continued to sift through these memories, a suffocating darkness settled into his chest. The Drakar Clan wasn't a family in any conventional sense; it operated as a breeding ground for predators, a blood-soaked hierarchy where familial bonds meant nothing unless reinforced by strength.
Love or affection didn't exist here; only utility mattered. One's worth was measured solely by power, and anything deemed useless was discarded without hesitation.
What unsettled Arthur most wasn't just the cruelty but also the chilling indifference surrounding Raizel's death.
The last memory before Arthur's arrival was painfully mundane, lying beneath that same massive tree where he awoke, exhausted and quietly fading away.
There were no grand battles or dramatic executions, just the quiet extinguishing of a life that no one cared enough to notice.
Raizel's status as the ninth son already marked him with disgrace, but his mother's origins made it even worse. She came from such humble beginnings that even the lowest-ranking servants in the Drakar household held more standing than she ever did.
How she had become one of the Patriarch's wives remained shrouded in years of silent contempt, but what remained undeniable was that Raizel was born tainted in the eyes of the clan.
His mother died giving birth to him, her life snuffed out on the very day his began. A desperate caesarean procedure tore him from her body just as she slipped away.
Raizel grew up never knowing her warmth or hearing her voice; all that remained were faded images, carefully preserved relics of someone he'd been told existed but whom time had long since erased from memory.
In her absence, the maid assigned to the Jade Dragon Palace became Raizel's only protector. For Arthur, who had grown up surrounded by comfort and care, Raizel's childhood seemed unbearable.
The Drakar Clan held the highest position in this world's power hierarchy; with just a word, they could elevate beggars to rulers or reduce empires to ruins.
Their children were born into unimaginable privilege, but only if they proved themselves worthy.
For the Drakar, power wasn't optional; it was mandatory.
At seven years old, every Drakar child was expected to awaken their Dragon Heart, the core source of their bloodline's authority.
This awakening wasn't a gift; it was an obligation. Those who succeeded were recognized as true members of the clan, while those who failed were marked as defective.
Each child had three chances, at seven, twelve, and sixteen years old. Failing on the first attempt was unheard of throughout history, until Raizel came along.
When he failed his first awakening attempt, the shame that followed was immediate and overwhelming.
He was barred from the main family citadel; his existence acknowledged but never truly recognized. Rumours trailed him like shadows, and the title "Dragonless" clung to him long before anyone dared speak it aloud.
The second attempt ended in failure as well.
That's when despair truly set in.
After his second failure, Raizel found himself confined within the Jade Dragon Palace, forbidden from leaving until his final chance arrived.
Any attempt to escape would lead to immediate execution. From then on, his life turned into a waiting room for death, prolonged only by cruel formality.
Assassination attempts became so frequent that they blended seamlessly into his daily routine; blades and poison treated with indifference akin to changing weather.
The palace morphed into a hunting ground.
Assassins slipped past guards who no longer cared whether he lived or died. It got to a point where a day without an assassination attempt felt unnatural, as if something expected had failed to show up.
Raizel's meals were barely edible; his living conditions stripped of dignity; his education nonexistent. He couldn't read or write and didn't learn how to bathe himself without assistance until he turned ten.
It felt like the world conspired to erase him.
Despite being the son of the Patriarch, Raizel endured a life worse than many servants'. In the Drakar Clan, affection was seen as a liability and weakness could lead to death.
It didn't matter whose blood you carried,if you died, it simply proved your inferiority, and your death was considered serviceable for the clan's honor.
Ironically, if an outsider killed a Drakar, it would ignite war across continents. But when one Drakar killed another? That was merely internal housekeeping.
Arthur felt his stomach churn as these memories surfaced. What he had seen of Raizel's suffering was just the tip of the iceberg, and it was already enough to leave him reeling.
The physical pain was one thing, but the psychological torment, the isolation, the haunting certainty that no one would come to save him, was something Arthur could hardly wrap his mind around.
If he had lived Raizel's life, he knew without a doubt that he would have broken long ago.
"This place…" Arthur muttered, his chest constricting as cold sweat soaked through his shirt. "This isn't a family. It's a slaughterhouse."
Fear gripped him with an almost suffocating intensity. In this clan, he was nothing, weak and disposable.
At any moment, someone could decide that his existence was more trouble than it was worth, and just like that, it would all be over. No funeral. No mourning. Just silence.
It took nearly half an hour for Arthur to calm his breathing and think clearly again. He realized that Raizel's misery stemmed from two main issues: his background and his lack of strength. The first was unchangeable; the second had only one solution.
He had to awaken the Dragon Heart.
But therein lay the greatest danger of all.
If he failed again, there would be no second chance this time.