A Background Character's Path to Power-Chapter 426: Prince’s Promise

The silence was deafening.

Bane lay motionless in the center of the frozen crater. His gaze remained fixed on the gray, empty sky, staring at the exact spot where the violet rift had vanished moments ago.

The snow fell gently on his face, melting against his feverish skin, but he didn’t blink.

His eyes, once burning with the arrogant fire of a genius and the sinister glow of a warlock, were now murky. They looked like stagnant pools of dead water.

He had no strength to move a finger. He had no will to scream.

’...Why?’

The question echoed in the hollow chamber of his mind.

’Where did it go wrong?’

He had planned everything perfectly.

From the isolation of the Salom Tribe to the ambush of the Overlord. He had calculated the variables, prepared the relics, and even accounted for the unexpected intervention of the enemy forces.

He was the Crown Prince.

He was the prodigy who had tamed a Void Stalker.

There should have been no mistake. Perfection was his standard.

’...It was ’it’.’

A figure’s image flashed through his fractured memory.

A swirling vortex head gazing menacingly.

’...That creature ruined everything.’

If not for that white anomaly, Bane would be making the Overlord his servant. He would have taken another massive stride toward his ultimate goal — the throne that rightfully belonged to him.

But now?

He was nothing.

His beast was gone. His body was broken. His soul fractured.

His dignity was stripped naked and left to freeze in the wasteland.

"Khh..."

Bane gritted his teeth. The sound was audible in the dead silence.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his soul, a reminder of the severed bond, but underneath that pain, a different emotion began to kindle.

He recalled his goal. He remembered the promise he made to himself in the darkness of the royal dungeon years ago.

He couldn’t end here.

He refused to die as a failure in the middle of nowhere.

With a trembling hand, he reached into the tattered remains of his spatial relic. His fingers brushed against the black ring.

Pop.

He used his teeth to pull the cork.

He poured the high-grade healing potion down his throat, choking slightly as the liquid burned his throat.

Sizzle.

Steam rose from his body. The gaping wound on his chest began to knit together. The shredded muscles in his arms reconnected.

It was agonizing, but Bane welcomed the pain.

As his body healed, the murkiness in his eyes began to clear. The despair receded, replaced by a cold, crystallized hatred.

"No..."

He forced himself to sit up. He wiped the black blood from his lips.

"It’s not over yet."

He stared at the spot where the white monster had vanished.

"I... I won’t give up."

He reached into his sash one last time.

He pulled out a jagged, pitch-black crystal. It was a high-grade teleportation crystal, linked to a hidden sanctuary prepared specifically for a worst-case scenario like this.

CRUSH.

He shattered the gemstone in his hand.

Space twisted violently around him, warping the light and the snow.

Bane cast one last glare at the empty white wasteland.

"I will take it back. All of it."

VWOOM.

He vanished, leaving only silence behind.

________ _____ _

Meanwhile, in a pitch-black void.

Amaniel’s consciousness floated in the abyss, weightless and untethered.

Time seemed to exist and not exist simultaneously.

...Wake up.

A whisper slithered through the dark.

Suddenly, shadowy figures materialized from the nothingness. They surrounded him, looming like giants.

Smack.

A hand struck him across the face.

Amaniel tried to move, to defend himself, but his limbs were heavy. He was paralyzed.

"I said wake up, bitch!"

Slap.

The impact rattled his skull.

"Prepare breakfast!"

The scene shifted violently. He was on his knees. A heavy boot kicked his ribs.

"Stupid!"

Kick.

"Bastard!"

Smack.

The abuse was relentless. The pain flared hot and sharp, indistinguishable from reality.

"You are worthless!"

"Piece of sh*t!"

A massive hand raised up and brought down a final, thunderous blow.

SLAP!

"Gasp!"

Amaniel’s eyes flew open. He jolted upright, his chest heaving as if he had just surfaced from drowning.

Cold sweat drenched his back, making his white robes cling uncomfortably to his skin.

"Haa... Haa..."

He clutched his forehead, his fingers digging into his scalp.

"...Another nightmare?"

He took deep, stabilizing breaths, forcing his erratic heart rate to slow down.

Slowly, the remnants of the dream faded, replaced by reality.

He was in a damp, dimly lit cave.

A small campfire crackled beside him, casting dancing orange shadows against the rough stone walls. The heat was meager, but it was the only thing keeping the bone-chilling cold at bay.

He looked toward the entrance.

A massive, black-furred silhouette lay prone near the mouth of the cave.

Nemo.

The Nightmare Devourer, now fully recovered and sporting a thick coat of midnight fur, was resting with his head on his paws. His ears twitched occasionally, acting as a vigilant watchdog against whatever lurked in the darkness outside.

Amaniel rubbed his eyes, his vision finally clearing completely.

He looked down at his side.

Resting near the warmth of the fire was an object roughly the size of three adult fists. The shell retained its icy blue hue, but thick, jagged black veins now strangled almost the whole surface, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic violet glow.

A curl of freezing mist drifted from it, frosting the stone floor.

"It’s been a week..."

Amaniel murmured, his fingers brushing the cold, transformed surface.

"Just when are you gonna hatch?"

As his fingers brushed the shell, the memories of their arrival resurfaced.

He recalled the sensation of being spat out by the rift after drifting in the chaotic void for an eternity. They had crashed onto the gray soil of this nightmare world, disoriented and vulnerable.

Velmort, the Void Stalker, had wasted no time. Enraged and hungry, the beast had lunged immediately.

Amaniel had tried to fight back.

He had tried to summon his aura.

But his body had remained motionless. The double backlash of maintaining [Glacia Sinfonia] and [Virion’s Blessing] for so long had drained him completely. His circuits were fried; his muscles were lead.

He was completely helpless and hopeless.