Prologue – The Last Walk of Tyler Grant
Florida summers are hot.
Like, pavement-cooking-your-crocs hot.
Tyler Grant, age 17, hoodie-wearing high school senior (yes, even in summer), food addict, and professional procrastinator, was taking one of his usual lazy walks home. His earbuds were in. His thoughts were on anime. His mood? Unbothered.
School was almost over.
College? Not really his thing.
Plans? Go home, eat something greasy, binge a few episodes, and nap.
Solid day.
Then came the honk.
The screech.
The flash of headlights.
And just like that—white-hot pain.
Then, darkness.
"Fatal trauma detected. Internal damage… irreversible."
"Wha… huh?"
His thoughts raced. He tried to move. He couldn't. His body didn't respond.
Then it hit him—not just the truck, but the realization.
"Wait… wait, wait, wait. I didn't even get to find out what the One Piece is."
Silence.
Then—suddenly—
"High emotional disturbance detected. Rage levels peaking. Unique Skill: Great Sage — acquired.
Allocating resistances: Pain Nullification… Hemorrhage Resistance… Memory Stability…"
"Bro—what?! I'm dying, not installing mods!"
"Correct. You are dying. Reincarnation imminent."
"WAIT—REINCARNA—"
And just like that…
Florida disappeared.
And a new world cracked open.
Wrapped in fire, fate, and silk.
—
Chapter 1 – Born of Wrath, Wrapped in Silk
He was crying.
Loudly. Wet, snotty, newborn crying.
It wasn't a choice—his new lungs had opinions.
He couldn't see much through blurry eyes and tears, but there was warmth, soft arms, and something weirdly royal about the way everyone was treating him.
Fancy robes. Deep red carpets. Gold trim. People kneeling?
"Oh no. Don't tell me I'm some prince or something."
"Correct. You are Kael Drayke, third-born noble son of House Drayke… and more."
That voice in his head—calm, robotic, smug—was already familiar.
"You again?! Great Sage, right?"
"Indeed. Unique Skill: Great Sage has been granted. Memory retention confirmed. Language adaptation in progress."
"So I died, got isekai'd into royalty, and now I've got a fantasy Siri. Amazing."
"…Processing sarcasm."
—
Years 1–4: The Third Prince of Emberhollow
Kael's childhood was... soft.
He was the third prince of House Drayke, born into Emberhollow, the kindest and weakest kingdom in Ira. Where the other Ira kingdoms burned with Wrath, Emberhollow glowed like a cozy hearth.
His eldest brother, Lorent, trained with the royal guard every sunrise.
His second brother, Garron, studied statecraft and diplomacy with top scholars.
Kael?
Kael climbed trees barefoot, snuck pastries from the kitchen, and hid in the stables with a book when the tutors came looking.
"Avoiding assigned responsibilities reduces your projected growth rate."
"Great Sage, I'm four. Let me eat my cinnamon bread in peace."
"That pastry contains 42% more sugar than recommended dietary levels."
"Exactly. Now you're getting it."
Still, he wasn't just goofing off. While everyone thought Kael was a laid-back airhead, he was secretly learning at an absurd rate.
"Skill Acquisition Rate: 320% above average."
"Flex harder, why don't you."
—
Sparring with Siblings
Twice a week, Kael joined training sessions with Lorent and Garron in the castle yard. The trainers humored him at first—until he disarmed one of them by accident.
"He's copying our stances exactly," Garron muttered.
"He copied your footwork and improved it," Lorent added.
"Adapting successful patterns for self-optimization."
"Sage, are you saying I'm winning because I'm a nerd with a cheat sheet?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The fights were short, but meaningful. He learned, adapted, and stayed just behind his brothers—on purpose. It kept suspicion away.
"If I beat them now," Kael muttered, "they'll stop inviting me."
"Tactical underperformance: Approved."
"That's the spirit."
—
Banquet Disaster
When Kael turned four and a half, he was forced to attend a noble banquet.
He was dressed in a starched white suit with gold embroidery and boots that squeaked when he walked. The nobles were stiff, the music was boring, and he could barely move in the stupid outfit.
Kael suffered through fifteen minutes before whispering to Great Sage:
"Initiate stealth escape protocol."
"…You want to run."
"Affirmative."
Five minutes later, a servant screamed as Kael sprinted through the dining hall in socks and a hoodie, holding his formal boots like weapons.
He returned in joggers and a loose tunic, slid into his seat with a plate full of finger food, and nodded like nothing happened.
The nobles stared.
Kael popped a fried dumpling in his mouth.
"Continue."
"Social reputation impact: Irreversible."
"Worth it."
—
The Garden Conversation
Later that spring, Kael lounged in the royal garden, sticky with powdered sugar and half-asleep on a sun-warmed bench.
Nearby, two stewards whispered near the flowerbeds:
"The boy's sixteenth year will be the test of it. The bloodline will show its truth."
"Let us pray the Flame Mirror does not shatter again…"
Kael squinted. "Again?"
"Hey, Great Sage."
"Yes, Kael?"
"What's this 'Flame Mirror' thing everyone keeps whispering about?"
"A magical artifact used during the Ritual of Ascendancy—a ceremony held when noble children turn sixteen. It reveals magical skills, titles, and, if applicable, a True Name."
"Okay... what happens if someone does have a True Name?"
"They are identified as one of the Seven Scourges."
"…Scourges?"
"Individuals born in alignment with one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Each continent produces one Scourge every few centuries. They possess overwhelming power."
"So I might be an ancient wrath-god reborn?"
"Statistical likelihood: 93.4%—"
"Stop. Let me live in denial a little longer."
"Acknowledged."
Kael sighed, staring at the drifting clouds.
"So... still not gonna tell me what the One Piece is, huh?"
"Data on the One Piece remains unavailable in this world."
"Figures."
He didn't know it yet, but soon, a village of goblins and a pack of magical beasts would change his life forever.
And that comfy hoodie? It might become royal attire.