The summoning hall still crackled with the remnants of ancient magic.
Beastmasters, sages, nobles — they all stared at the small, bloodied boy seated in the center of the glowing circle. His pale skin. His sharp, unnaturally handsome face. The faint trails of dried blood staining his torn uniform.
But above all, they saw his eyes.
Cold, grey, glassy — far too calculating for a child.
The elders whispered among themselves.
"The vessel… it's the prince's body…"
"But… the soul… it's not…"
"Another soul… but…"
The King, a towering man with beast-like golden eyes and a dangerous aura, raised a hand for silence.
His gaze, sharp as a predator's, locked onto Cian.
"You… claim to be another soul. Not my son. And yet… the ritual completed. The binding mark is present."
He gestured to the boy's chest.
Cian's hand instinctively moved to his shirt — pulling the fabric aside to reveal a faint, glowing mark etched near his collarbone. A swirling sigil — proof of successful soul anchoring, designed only for the heir of the Beastmaster Kingdom.
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"Biological signature… matches intended vessel… Soul identity… displaced… Ritual logic… interesting…" His mind, drowning in analysis, never stopped calculating.
The hall fell into tense silence.
Then, the High Summoner, an elderly woman with glowing beast tattoos across her arms, stepped forward.
"Your Majesty…" she spoke, her voice steady, reverent. "It is not the soul we intended. But it is the soul fate delivered. The ritual's success… despite its flaw… is destiny's design."
The nobles exchanged nervous glances.
Another spoke, hesitant. "Perhaps… this boy — this… Cian… is meant to be our prince now. It is… fortune's doing."
Some protested.
Others whispered.
But none dared challenge the ritual's results openly — not when the sigils still glowed faintly, proof that fate had chosen… differently.
The king's eyes narrowed.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Cian sat still, eerily calm for a child supposedly brought back from death, in a foreign world, mistaken for a royal heir.
Inside, his genius mind spun endlessly.
"Dimensional transfer… Ritual magic… Biological and genetic compatibility… An entire kingdom misinterpreting soul replacement as fate… Curiosity… Overwhelming."
He could exploit this.
His scientific curiosity about this new world… the creatures, the magic, the biology… was insatiable.
More importantly… their mistake made him untouchable.
The king's voice finally broke the silence.
"Very well," he declared. "The boy lives. The ritual is sealed. He carries the mark of my bloodline. Whether his soul is that of my son, or another…"
His eyes glinted with dangerous acceptance.
"It is our destiny. It is our fortune."
A roar of approval echoed through the hall — forced, uncertain, but obeyed.
The nobles bowed.
The beastmasters nodded.
The High Summoner smiled faintly, murmuring, "The kingdom bends to fate's whims… and so shall we."
Cian's crooked smile returned — faint, empty, unnerving.
They thought fate delivered them a blessing.
But fate… delivered them him.
A boy who died thinking.
A genius obsessed with curiosity.
And now… a prince, hidden behind a dangerous, fractured mind — calculating his next move.