The Path to Becoming Emperor

The distant murmur of birds and the scent of fresh wood filled the room. Maxilian slowly opened his eyes, his mind wavering between confusion and exhaustion. At first, he believed he was still dreaming, but the ceiling adorned with intricate golden engravings reminded him that everything that had happened was real.

He stood up carefully, his small and thin hands a constant reminder of his new reality. In front of him, a tall mirror with a silver frame reflected a young man with black hair and blue eyes that he couldn't associate with his true self. Maxilian Vortegra.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice sounding firmer than he expected.

The door opened, revealing a young maid with brown hair who entered with a tray. Her movements were clumsy, her head bowed as if she feared making eye contact.

—Your breakfast, Your Highness.

Max observed the young woman. He recognized her face from the memories flooding his mind: Mariam. A maid who had endured years of mistreatment under the command of the original Max.

—Thank you, Mariam. Leave it on the table.

The girl glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her eyes filled with surprise and distrust. Without saying a word, she left the tray and quickly withdrew, as if she expected her master to regain the cruel nature that had defined him until then at any moment.

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. Gaining people's trust would be more complicated than he thought.

After having breakfast in silence, Max decided that he couldn't stay locked up in the room. If he wanted to change his destiny, he had to take control of his life.

First, I need to understand my current situation.

The castle of the Kingdom of Helvorn was as grand as it was oppressive. The hallways were adorned with tapestries that narrated the story of a dynasty that considered him nothing more than a stain. Maxilian's memories were painfully clear: his mother, a low-ranking noblewoman, had been relegated after his birth, and he had never been considered a true member of the family.

Walking through the hallways, Max perceived the gazes of the servants and guards. Some avoided him, others watched him with evident disdain. Everyone expected him to remain the same monster.

Before I could reflect further, a familiar figure appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Helena?" he asked, recognizing the woman with short black hair and a serious expression who was watching him from a distance.

Helena was his personal bodyguard, assigned to protect him since he was a child. In the novel, she had been one of the few characters who, although discontent, had remained by his side until the end. Now, her eyes were examining him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

"Your Highness."He made a slight bow, his tone as dry as ever—. Are you feeling well?

—I'm fine. Actually, I wanted to ask you a favor.

Helena raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

—A favor?

—Take me to the training camp.

Surprise crossed her face before being quickly suppressed.

—For what?

—To train, obviously.

Helena's silence was brief, but laden with disbelief. Finally, she simply nodded.

—As you wish.

The training camp was bustling with activity. Soldiers practiced with swords, shields, and bows under the stern gaze of a gray-haired captain. Max walked to the center, aware of the gazes that followed him.

"Your Highness, what brings you here?" asked the captain, halting his inspection.

"I've decided it's time to strengthen myself," said Max, taking a wooden sword from the nearest rack.

The weight of the weapon took him by surprise. His arms, accustomed to idleness, trembled slightly as he tried to hold it. The soldiers around began to murmur, and Max could clearly hear the words "whim" and "waste of time."

"—Well, your highness." Start by hitting that scarecrow —the captain indicated with a barely contained smile.

Max nodded and, after a few seconds to adjust his grip, threw his first punch. The impact was clumsy, almost ridiculous, but Max didn't stop. Blow after blow, ignoring the pain in his hands and the murmurs of the soldiers, he continued practicing.

"At least he hasn't given up," one of the soldiers commented quietly.

Helena, who was watching from a corner, slightly furrowed her brow.

He is not the prince I know.

After an hour, Max dropped the sword, his arms numb and his breath ragged.

"That's enough for today, Your Highness," said the captain, clearly surprised that it had lasted so long.

Max nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

—Thank you for your time.

The murmurs of the soldiers continued as he walked away, but Max didn't pay them any attention. It was only the first step, but he felt something he had never experienced as Jhon: a clear goal.

Back in his room, he barely had time to rest before a servant knocked on the door.

—Your Highness, Princess Lysandra requests to see you.

Max tensed up. The memories of his older sister were vivid: a beautiful and cunning woman, known for manipulating the kingdom's politics as if it were a game of chess.

When the door opened, Lysandra entered with a cold smile, her blue silk dress reflecting the luxury that always surrounded her.

—Dear younger brother. I heard you were... training today.

"That's right."Max remained calm, aware that every word would be measured carefully.

—How unexpected. I thought you preferred the comforts of your room.

—Sometimes, it's good to change.

Lysandra watched him attentively, her smile wavering for a moment. Finally, she let out a soft laugh.

—If you say so, dear brother. Although you should remember something: in the court, sudden changes tend to attract the wrong kind of attention.

With those words, he left, leaving Max with a clear reminder: his transformation would not go unnoticed.

It doesn't matter. I'll do things right this time.

Max sat by the window, watching as the sun began to set on the horizon. It was a new beginning, but he knew that the road ahead would be full of challenges.

And I was ready to face them.