In the heart of the Shenron Empire, a boy of tender age, his youthful countenance framed by flowing platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, stood transfixed by a scene of unfathomable horror. Clad in a pristine white suit, a golden sheathed sword at his side, and a regal cape billowing behind him, he gazed upon a ghastly tableau that sent shivers down his spine.

Before him lay the lifeless form of a young woman, stripped of her dignity and marred by the cruel hand of violence. Her body bore the scars of burn marks and wounds, silent testimony to the agony she had endured. Though devoid of medical expertise, the crimson trails that escaped her pale lips whispered of the torment that had wracked her soul.

This grotesque spectacle unfolded within the capital of the Shenron Empire, one of the three eminent powers that graced the Ozane Continent. The boy's face twisted with a mix of disbelief and introspection, grappling with the stark contrast between his own expectations and the horrifying reality before him.

"I had believed myself to be immune to revulsion, impervious to the grotesque," he murmured, his voice filled with disappointment. "Yet this abomination has pierced even my steel resolve. It fuels an urge to sever the limbs of the perpetrator and cast him into the desolate wilderness."

With compassion in his eyes, he surveyed the scene, his mind searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the desolation. "But in this current state, what recourse do I truly possess? Unless some clue presents itself, my hands remain tied."

Deciding against intervening—a choice born of caution, for the capital harbored hidden vipers—he left the macabre scene behind and made his way toward the Novalie Palace. It was there that his mother, with a visage of concern, awaited his arrival. Though lacking in specifics, his mother had impressed upon him the importance of this meeting.

A wistful smile crossed the boy's lips as he considered his circumstances. "Whenever my mother imparts news with that expression, it invariably heralds a storm on the horizon. But not all is bleak."

He paused, reflecting upon the privileges bestowed upon him in this world. "At the very least, I possess the fortune of noble birth. While others covet the golden spoon, I find myself grasping a diamond spoon, a symbol of opulence beyond compare."

Yet, beneath the veneer of affluence, discontent lingered. "But even with such advantages, I find little solace in the prospect of reliving a life I had already established. The hardships endured, the obstacles overcome—all of it rendered naught by an accident not of my making. Reincarnated into an illogical world, where rampant injustice runs amok, I am hardly one to bemoan my lot. Yet, must the literary or gaming realms I inhabit revel in gratuitous gore? Must they be labeled 'mature audiences only'? In this world, I am relieved of financial burdens, left to focus solely on honing my physical prowess, ensuring my survival."

As he contemplated his unfortunate circumstances, the boy arrived at the grand Novalie Palace, an abode adorned with rare botanical wonders from across the continent. Welcoming him were the diligent butlers and maids, their presence an assurance of order and luxury. Standing amidst them was a distinguished figure, the Head Butler, who addressed him with a composed demeanor.

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"Welcome, your highness," the Head Butler spoke, his voice resonating with a respectful tone. "The Empress awaits you in the dining hall, where your favorite dish, Crab Louie, has been prepared, accompanied by the indulgence of Brigadeiros for dessert."

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Delighted, the boy's expression brightened as he responded, "Ah, Uncle Gerald, your thoughtfulness knows no bounds. I extend my deepest gratitude to you."

But the Head Butler, his countenance stern, replied with firm resolve, "Your highness, I implore you to refrain from addressing me as 'uncle.' I am but a humble servant, privileged to serve as the Head Butler of the esteemed Novalie Palace, where the Empress of the Shenron Empire resides."

Unfazed, the boy maintained his composure, replying in a measured tone, "Ah, my apologies, Uncle Gerald. Old habits die hard, it seems. Nonetheless, I appreciate your guidance."

Yet the Head Butler, unwavering in his duties, returned his attention to the matter at hand. "Your highness, now is not the time for idle banter. The Empress awaits your presence in the dining hall."

With that reminder, the boy nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Indeed, time is of the essence. Lead the way, Uncle Gerald, for I shall not keep the Empress waiting any longer."

Unease crept into the young man's heart as he made his way towards the grand dining room. Though a sense of duty propelled him forward, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that clung to his every step. Nevertheless, he remained obedient, knowing it was his place as a son to heed his mother's summons.

Upon entering the room, his eyes fell upon a woman, exuding an air of both regality and untamed strength. Her honey-blonde locks cascaded down her shoulders, framing a face that mirrored the intensity of a lioness. At the sound of his approach, the Lady of the Palace's countenance transformed, lips forming a sulky pout that melted into a radiant smile.

Sensing the change, the young man instinctively retrieved a flower he had plucked along the way, anticipating the need for such appeasement.

"Youthful as ever, Mother," he remarked, offering the flower with practiced ease.

The pout dissolved into genuine affection, and the Lady's eyes shimmered with pride. "Athan, you possess such thoughtfulness. Venturing from the palace at this early hour just for your mother's sake."

Basking in her praise, her smile became even more enchanting.

"And you remembered my favorite blooms," she continued, her words accompanied by a hint of awe.

Athan discreetly wiped away a bead of perspiration that had formed on his brow, silently relieved that his foresight had spared him from potential disappointment.

"Of course, Mother," he replied, voice steady and unwavering. "How could I forget?"

Observing her son's attire, the Lady of the Palace furrowed her brow, a faint frown tugging at her features.

"Athan, why do you bear a sword within the palace walls?" she inquired, concern mingling with curiosity.

With a resolute expression, Athan responded, "To grow stronger and safeguard you, Mother."

The Lady's smile returned, radiant and reassuring, as she gazed upon her determined son.

"My darling, you needn't worry. Your mother, an accomplished archmage, possesses her own means of defense, not to mention the knights dedicated to safeguarding her. I alone am more than capable of handling any threat."

Athan maintained a composed demeanor, his voice carrying an air of calm conviction.

"Nevertheless, Mother, I feel compelled to protect you. Now, if I may, what urgent matter did you wish to discuss with me?"

The beautiful countenance of the Lady of the Palace transformed from warmth to concern. A shiver of apprehension coursed through Athan's veins, his mind racing to pinpoint any missteps he may have made during their exchange.

With a troubled expression, the Lady spoke softly, her words weighted with gravity.

"Athan, it seems the time has come for you to depart the palace."

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