Chapter 103: chap

Darkness.

That was all Max could see.

No hell. No heaven.

Just darkness.

It felt as though he were floating in something, suspended in a liminal space between sleep and consciousness

Then, for a moment, he suddenly lost all his physical senses. He couldn’t move, see, or feel anything anymore. His mind was the only thing that seemed to exist.

What’s going on? he thought. Is this the afterlife? Is this what it means to be dead? Just floating endlessly in an abyss of darkness?

But he got no answers.

Instead, his senses were returned to him, and a sudden, soothing warmth surrounded his body.

His eyes were closed, but he could feel his back pressed against something solid and cold. It was enclosing him from all sides and supporting his body like some sort of chamber... or coffin.

Max was confused. He didn’t understand what was happening. His mind was racing, but he remained calm, analyzing the situation carefully.

He was supposed to be dead.

Yet, he could think. And he could feel.

Therefore, he was undoubtedly alive.

But how?

Determined to find out more, Max commanded his body to move. His fingers twitched once. Then, he slowly opened his eyes.

A bright light instantly flooded his vision. His pupils contracted instinctively, and it took a few seconds for his sight to adjust. But when it finally did, Max was able to see his surroundings. And he was stunned by the view.

He wasn’t in a hospital as he had expected. Instead, he was lying on his back, dressed in a long, white robe, staring up through a thick, transparent glass lid. The ceiling above him was made entirely of dark stone, built in an ancient architectural style he had never seen before. Several faintly glowing symbols were carved into the walls, casting a dim blue light across the room.

Max stared in awe.

How am I alive? he wondered.

He remembered being poisoned in his penthouse by his best friend and fiancée. He remembered the neurotoxin burning his throat and leaving him paralyzed. He remembered drawing his last breath.

Yet, here he was. Alive.

Before he could process the impossibility of it all, a figure suddenly appeared above the glass.

A woman.

She was incredibly beautiful, with pale skin, raven-black hair, and purple eyes. She seemed to be in her early twenties and was wearing a maid uniform. But it was her expression that caught Max’s attention. She was staring down at him, her hands pressed flat against the glass, her breath hitching so hard he could see her shoulders tremble. Her eyes were blown wide in shock, as though she had just watched a dead man open his eyes.

Max didn’t panic. He stared back at the woman, carefully assessing her body language to determine if she was a threat.

But from the look in her eyes, that possibility was unlikely.

She was looking at him with a profound, overwhelming affection... the way someone looks at a miracle they have spent a lifetime praying for.

Who is she? he wondered. He had never seen her before in his life. But she clearly knew him.

Just then, the lid of the glass coffin made a soft hiss and slid open, receding into the stone pedestal beneath him.

Max immediately sat upright and began inspecting his body. He looked down at his hands in shock. They were pale and lean, just like the rest of his body.

He frowned. This was definitely not his body.

Normally, he possessed the broad, muscular build of a man in his thirties. This body undoubtedly belonged to a teenager, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. Yet, despite the lean frame, he could feel an enormous, supernatural strength humming in his veins like a live wire.

The woman stepped back as Max sat upright, her hands hovering uncertainly in the air.

"Maximilian?" she whispered. Her voice was calm, but fractured by an emotion so deep that it sounded as though she had been holding it inside for years.

Max looked up at her. Maximilian? Why is she calling me that? he thought. But he decided not to dwell on that yet. There was a more pressing question at hand.

"Where am I?" he asked, looking around the room. There was no sign of medical equipment. No emergency responders. And no familiar technology. Nothing in this place made sense.

The woman took a cautious step forward, forcing her features into a mask of gentle composure. She looked at him the way one would look at a fragile newborn.

"I understand your confusion," she said, her voice dropping into a soft, soothing cadence. "But do not worry. You do not have to be afraid. My name is Raven, and I am here to help you."

Max’s eyes narrowed. "You didn’t answer my question," he said flatly. His tone was sharp, authoritative, and utterly devoid of fear. "I asked you where I was."

Raven blinked. She had clearly not expected him to respond like that. The sheer, cold command in his voice visibly stunned her.

"You are in the Noctis Castle," she answered. "It’s currently in the Human Realm."

Noctis? Human Realm? Max processed the words.

If a place was specifically designated as the ’Human Realm,’ it inherently implied the existence of non-human realms. Though, it’s not like he even knew what ’Realms’ meant.

He looked up at the stone architecture of the room, the glowing runes, and the pristine maid uniform Raven wore. Something wasn’t right.

"What year is it?" he asked.

Raven blinked again. She looked increasingly bewildered by the interrogation. "I... I do not know the exact world date. But I believe the humans are currently in the Seventh Era."

Max stared at her in awe. Seventh Era? What the hell happened to 2027?

He didn’t know whether to panic or crash out. But his situation was becoming clearer now. He was currently in a different body. In a different timeline, with a different calendar, and a different world aesthetic.

Something was very very wrong.

"I know it is overwhelming," Raven said, taking another gentle step forward, her protective instincts warring with her shock. "But please, do not strain your mind, Maximilian. I do not expect you to know anything at all."

"Why is that?" Max asked, raising a brow.

"Because," Raven whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You are just waking up for the very first time since you were born."

Max’s eyes widened. His mind instantly spiraled into a rapid calculation.

Waking up for the first time since birth? He looked down at his lean, seventeen-year-old hands again. That’s impossible. A body cannot develop to this stage without consciousness... unless, maybe it was sustained artificially. A life-support system, perhaps. But then... how did my consciousness end up in this body?

He began to put the pieces together. The poison. The darkness. The unfamiliar body. The name that wasn’t his.

It all made sense now.

He hadn’t survived the poison. He had died of it. Maxwell Gates had died.

But somehow, he had awakened here, in a new world, in a new body.

And there was only one explanation he could think of.

Reincarnation, he deduced.

It was a concept he’d heard countless times in stories and legends. A soul dying in one life and awakening in another.

He had never believed in it.

He had considered it nothing more than fiction. Yet here he was. A living contradiction to everything he’d once believed.

Max remained silent for several seconds, calmly processing the realization.

"When you were born seventeen years ago..." Raven continued softly, "...you fell into a deep sleep. You never cried. You never moved. You never opened your eyes. But you were alive... just not awake. I used magic to sustain you over the years. To provide everything your body needed; food, energy, growth... everything, in hopes that you would one day return to the waking world."

"I see," Max hummed softly, not even surprised she had mentioned the term "magic". He was more concerned about other things. Like his current mental position.

If everyone in this world believed he had been asleep since birth, then they would naturally assume that when he woke up, he would have the mind of a newborn. With no knowledge, no understanding, no experience. Nothing.

Max’s lips curled in a small smirk. This was a great opportunity for him.

He knew absolutely nothing about this world. He knew nothing of its geography, its people, its politics, its powerhouses, its history, its dangers. And... it’s ’magic.’

And nobody expected him to know any of these things, since he practically still had the mind of an infant.

This was perfect.

He could ask questions without raising suspicion. He could listen, observe, and learn.

And while everyone believed they were teaching a clueless child about the world...he would be busy studying them.

Max turned toward Raven. His expression became calm again. "Alright," he said. "Tell me. Who am I?"

Raven took a deep breath. She dropped to one knee, the stone floor echoing beneath her. When she looked up, the maternal gentleness in her eyes was replaced by a fierce, ancient reverence.

"You are Maximilian von Noctis," she declared, her voice ringing through the chamber. "Son of Arthur von Noctis, and heir to the vampire throne."

"Heh," Max blinked. His stoic mask slipped for a fraction of a second.