Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

The forest stood still, the trees towering like silent witnesses at the scene.

The guards surrounding the carriage watched Aric closely, their weapons at the ready, their bodies taut with tension. Yet, he stood there—calm, unbothered, and utterly unmoving. It was unnerving. A single man blocking their path.

One of the guards finally broke the silence, his voice steady but tinged with uncertainty.

"Prince… what is it you're doing here?"

Aric tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I thought I made that clear," he replied, his tone as even as the still air around them. "I'm stopping you from going any further toward the capital."

The guard's grip on his weapon tightened. "With respect, my lord, our orders are clear. Our journey must not be halted—not even by you."

Aric's smile widened, but carried no warmth. Slowly, he began to pull off his gloves, one finger at a time, the movement deliberate. "Well," he murmured, slipping the first glove free and letting it fall to the ground. "Isn't this a tricky situation?" He moved to the second glove, removing it just as unhurriedly. "Because I have no intention of letting you go any further."

He snapped his fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible glow flickered at his fingertips—a simple gesture, yet it made the guards hesitate. Was it magic? A threat? Or just showmanship? It didn't matter. It had worked. They were on edge now, shifting uncomfortably in their stances.

They weren't fools, these guards. Their orders were explicit, but this? Attacking a prince of Valeria was a different matter altogether. It wasn't just risky—it was a diplomatic nightmare waiting to unfold. What were they supposed to do?

From within the carriage, Valtor, sharp-eyed with a talent for reading the room, leaned closer to the small window. "Marek," he hissed to the figure seated across from him, "what do we do? We can't kill the fourth prince. That'll bring the empire down on us."

Marek, broad-shouldered man with responsibility etched into his features, exhaled deeply. The situation was as complicated as it was infuriating. After a moment's thought, he pushed open the carriage door and stepped out into the path. His eyes scanned Aric carefully, assessing him.

There was no fear in the prince's gaze, no doubt. That alone was unnerving.

"No," Marek said at last, his voice low and cold. "We can't kill him. But we can scare him. Rough him up a bit—nothing permanent. By the time we're done delivering our message to the court, they'll be too disarrayed to worry about a wounded fourth prince."

Valtor nodded from within the carriage. "Understood."

Marek signaled to the guards. Five of them jumped off their mounts and immediately snapped to action, their hesitance evaporating in the heat of their leader's confidence. With synchronized precision, they moved in on Aric, weapons raised, their bodies blurring as they surged forward with bursts of speed.

Aric… didn't move.

Not a step. Not even a flinch.

He simply watched them with what could only be described as mild disinterest, his hands loose at his sides. Was he even going to defend himself? Or had he simply resigned himself to his fate? They asked themselves this, but quickly realised—there was something deliberate in his stillness. A quiet confidence that made the guards falter, if only for a fraction of a second.

That was all it took for everything to go wrong for them.

The first guard swung a heavy fist at Aric's face, fast enough to snap a lesser man's neck. It missed. Not because Aric dodged—no, he hadn't even moved. The blow simply... didn't connect. The guard stumbled, confused, and tried again, only to find his fist slicing through empty air.

The others followed, their weapons cutting, stabbing, swinging. Each time, they missed by mere hairs, their attacks skimming so close to Aric that it should've been impossible for him to remain unscathed. Yet, here he was, untouched, unbothered, and walking slowly toward the carriage as if the guards weren't even there.

"What… what the hell is happening?" one of them growled, frustration bleeding into his voice.
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"It's not a barrier," another muttered. "There's nothing stopping us, but we can't hit him. Why can't we hit him?"

Marek watched from the carriage steps, his jaw tightening. Something wasn't right. This wasn't magic—not the kind he was used to, at least. Aric wasn't even lifting a finger to defend himself. It was like the universe itself was conspiring to protect him. But how? And why?

The guards, now visibly frustrated, switched tactics. They began unleashing bursts of ki, sending waves of energy hurtling toward the prince. The air burnt with power as the attacks tore through the night, each one aimed to kill.

And every single one missed.

The blasts veered off course, crashing into the dirt or exploding harmlessly against the trees. Not a single attack came close to touching Aric.

The guards hesitated again, their confidence now thoroughly shaken. And that's when Aric stopped walking. He turned his head slightly, his expression still maddeningly calm, and raised a hand. With an almost lazy flick of his fingers, a shockwave erupted behind him.

The air seemed to split as the force hurled the guards backward, their bodies slamming into the surrounding trees with bone-rattling force. Leaves and debris rained down from above as silence reclaimed the forest.

Aric turned his attention to Marek, who was now standing frozen in place, his confidence from earlier completely eroded. The prince's steps were slow, deliberate, and each one seemed heavier than the last.

Marek took an instinctive step back, his mind racing. What the hell is happening? He had seen powerful ki and magic users before, warriors who could level armies, but this? This wasn't ki nor magic.

This was something else entirely. Something unnatural.

When Aric finally stopped in front of him, he tilted his head, his cold gaze pinning Marek in place.

"Now," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Perhaps we may have a conversation."