Cursed Mark: Rise of the Forgotten Prince

A Moment of Stillness Before the Storm

The night was colder than usual. The faint glow of the academy's lanterns flickered in the distance, their light barely reaching the darkened training grounds where I stood. The air smelled of damp earth and steel, remnants of countless battles fought here—some for honor, others for survival.

And tonight, I would fight for both.

I clenched my fists, feeling the Cursed Mark pulse beneath my skin. It had been days since the Royal Examination, yet the whispers hadn't stopped.

"The cursed prince shouldn't be here."

"He's dangerous."

"A mistake of the royal bloodline."

I was used to it. The scorn. The mockery. The lingering stares filled with fear and doubt.

But something had changed.

They no longer saw me as just a failure. They feared me.

And that fear was power.

But was it enough?

I exhaled, steadying my breath. The mark burned, but I welcomed the pain. It was proof that I was still alive. That I was still moving forward.

That I was no longer the weak prince they remembered.

Yet, the road ahead was darker than I anticipated.

And I wasn't sure if I could walk it alone.

---

A Test of Strength and Will

The academy had its traditions, and among them was the infamous Trial of the Blade—a test of skill and resilience meant to determine one's standing among the elite.

Only the strong dared to participate.

And I would be one of them.

I arrived at the dueling arena, where students gathered in anticipation. The seats were filled with nobles, warriors, and scholars—each eager to witness another spectacle.

I scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for a familiar presence.

And then, I saw her.

Eleanor Vael.

Her silver hair shimmered under the moonlight, emerald eyes glowing with divine energy. She wasn't just watching—she was studying me.

Did she still doubt me?

Or was she beginning to see me as something more than the cursed prince?

I didn't have time to ponder.

A sharp voice echoed through the arena.

"Kael Ardent, step forward!"

I moved without hesitation, stepping onto the stone platform. My opponent was already waiting—Gareth Valford, a noble prodigy renowned for his swordsmanship.

He smirked, resting his blade on his shoulder.

"I almost thought you wouldn't show up, cursed prince."

I didn't respond. Words were meaningless here.

The only thing that mattered was victory.

---

The Clash of Fates

The moment the match began, Gareth lunged.

His speed was impressive, his blade a silver blur under the lanterns' glow. Most would have faltered.

But I had spent my entire life fighting against forces greater than me.

I sidestepped, my body moving on instinct. The Cursed Mark burned, reacting to my intent.

Gareth twisted mid-strike, adjusting his stance with expert precision.

But he wasn't the only one adapting.

I countered, my movements sharp and fluid. The clash of steel echoed through the arena, each strike carrying the weight of our determination.

Gasps filled the crowd.

They had expected me to struggle.

To falter.

But I stood my ground.

Gareth's smirk wavered. His strikes grew wilder, more desperate.

He was strong. But I was relentless.

And in the end, that made all the difference.

With a final movement, I disarmed him, sending his sword clattering to the ground.

A hush fell over the arena.

The impossible had happened.

I had won.

---

A Shift in the Shadows

As the match ended, I turned my gaze toward the crowd.

Toward Eleanor.

She was still watching.

But this time, her eyes held something different.

Curiosity.

Recognition.

Something stirred in my chest, an unfamiliar warmth amid the cold I had grown used to.

But before I could linger on it, another voice cut through the silence.

"Not bad, little brother."

I stiffened.

Crown Prince Adrian stood at the edge of the arena, golden eyes glinting with amusement.

He had been watching.

Waiting.

His presence sent a ripple of unease through the spectators. Even Gareth, still kneeling in defeat, paled at the sight of him.

"You've improved," Adrian mused, stepping forward. "But you're still far from reaching me."

I met his gaze, unflinching.

"I never planned to reach you," I said. "I plan to surpass you."

The arena held its breath.

Then, Adrian chuckled—a dark, knowing sound.

"Interesting."

Without another word, he turned, vanishing into the shadows.

But his message was clear.

He no longer saw me as an afterthought.

I was now something to be watched.

To be controlled.

Or to be destroyed.

---

The Price of Power

That night, as I stood beneath the academy's moonlit sky, I felt the weight of my choices settle upon me.

I had stepped into a world where strength was everything. Where the weak were discarded, and the powerful shaped destiny itself.

I had chosen this path.

But the question remained—

Was I ready for what came next?

I glanced at my hand, the Cursed Mark pulsing faintly beneath my skin.

A reminder of the power I had gained.

And the price I had yet to pay.

The night whispered promises of what was to come.

And for the first time, I whispered back.

"I will not break."

"I will rise."