Although being a reincarnator sounds cool, it came with its own set of problems.

  And the two greatest dangers of a reincarnator were boredom and pride.

  The first one appeared after living countless lives. At some point, everything I did became dull, repetitive. I had been a king, a genius, a scientist, an emperor, a conqueror, a celebrity, even a savior in some timelines. And yet, none of it satisfied me. Every achievement felt hollow, every victory meaningless. I began to crave something I had never wanted before: eternal death, the kind that offered true oblivion rather than endless cycles of return.

  And then there was the second danger, which emerged during my fourth lifetime.

  I had named it the God Syndrome.

  As a reincarnator, I had advantages that no ordinary human could ever dream of. If I chose, I could rise to become the most powerful man in the world within mere years. Wealth, influence, strength, knowledge—everything would bend to my will.

  But such power carried a subtle poison. Slowly, imperceptibly, it fed my ego.

  I began to view myself as inherently superior, the apex of creation. Other people were not equals—they were instruments, pawns, tools I could shape to my convenience. I could make them kings if I wished, or slaves if I grew bored. And I had. Many times over, across many lifetimes.

  That life of omnipotence, however, eroded more than it built. It disconnected me from reality, from the simple pleasures and struggles of ordinary life. Life became meaningless, because what did it matter if I could return from death endlessly? The natural fear of mortality, the instinct that gave life tension and purpose, had vanished.

  Fortunately, I realized the danger before it was too late. Before I could spiral into a state where life itself became repulsive, I established a personal rule.

  Every lifetime, I would live the first eighteen years as an ordinary human. I would train in secret, refine skills gained from previous lives, but I would not flaunt them, not even once—unless my life hung in the balance. It was a self-imposed limitation designed to let me experience mortality, attachment, and belonging, even if only for a brief period.

  And now… today… I was eighteen.

  From this moment onward, I could unleash the full extent of my power. Every secret skill, every knowledge from past lives, every ounce of mana that simmered beneath my skin—now, it was mine to wield.

  Yet, deciding what to do was not easy. Having lived tens, perhaps hundreds of lifetimes, every path I considered felt like a worn track in sand, familiar and uninspiring. Adventure, conquest, heroism, villainy—they all held no novelty. Nothing could entice me.

  I spent the entire day alone in thought, wandering the palace gardens, tracing the marble halls, staring out across the imperium’s sprawling cityscape. And even as twilight descended, painting the Eldoria Imperium in hues of violet and gold, I could not decide.

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  It was at that moment that Daphne Kael entered my chambers.

  "Your highness, it’s almost time for tonight’s ball," she said softly, her voice a mix of respect and hesitation.

  I blinked in surprise. "Uh? It’s already so late?"

  "Yes, your highness," she replied, sounding a touch exasperated. "The birthday ball begins in one hour. Quickly, take a bath while I prepare your clothing. Tonight’s outfit is special, made for this occasion."

  Before I could protest, she guided me toward the bathroom, her hands surprisingly firm for someone usually so demure. The door closed behind us, and I could only smile helplessly at the ineffable energy she carried—part servant, part childhood companion, and somehow always more than that.

  After my bath, she assisted me in dressing. Daphne had served me since our earliest days at the Valemont estate. Her hands were gentle but precise, her movements careful, even as a subtle blush tinted her cheeks. She combed my hair meticulously, smoothed my attire, and finally gestured toward the mirror.

  I caught my reflection and could not suppress a small laugh.

  Daphne stared at me, wide-eyed, clearly struck by some unspoken thought. I cleared my throat. She blushed furiously, realizing her lapse in composure.

  "Your highness, you are very handsome," she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

  I returned the compliment, allowing a small smile to play on my lips. "And you… you are beautiful tonight as well."

  Her head lowered, unable to meet my gaze, but I saw the faintest curve in her lips.

  Magic—or mana—enhanced physical form in subtle ways. Bodies and faces were perfected, ages reversed, flaws corrected. Across lifetimes, it had allowed me to remain striking, handsome beyond ordinary human standards. And with enough latent mana to level a nation, my physique could be considered near flawless. Even my younger brother, Lucan Valemont, inherited the Valemont line’s physical gifts.

  I had blue hair and blue eyes, a legacy of the Valemont family. My skin was healthy white, my stature 1.82 meters tall, and my body well-proportioned and muscular. Put together, I was undoubtedly the sort of man most women dreamt of—but I was not vain. I simply accepted reality.

  Suppressing a wry laugh, I extended my arm toward Daphne.

  "Lady, will you grant me the honor of guiding me to the ball?"

  She blinked, startled, then smiled shyly, pink rising across her cheeks. "It would be my honor, your highness."

  Her dress that night was far from the plain uniforms she usually wore. Tonight, she wore a flowing, deep-blue gown, crafted with intricate embroidery, highlighting her slender figure while hinting at elegance without impropriety. The gown hugged her waist and cascaded in soft folds to the floor.

  I could not help but notice her posture, the gentle curve of her legs, the delicate rise and fall of her chest as she walked. She blushed again, catching my gaze, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pride and happiness.

  We reached the palace hall’s entrance quickly, and Daphne left to resume her duties. I lingered behind the hall, waiting for my father’s announcement. The grand hall was brimming with nobles and dignitaries, and yet more kept arriving, their voices forming a low, excited hum.

  And then, Sylvia Valemont appeared.

  "Big brother!" she cried, rushing toward me with open arms.

  I smiled gently. "You are radiant tonight, Sylvia. Many will surely be enchanted by your presence."

  Her cheeks turned crimson. "Thank you, big brother," she whispered, barely audible.

  "May I accompany you when Father calls me?" she asked, her small hand gripping my arm.

  "Of course," I said, taking a steadying breath.

  At that moment, my father’s voice boomed across the hall, clear and commanding.

  "Let us welcome the star of tonight, Edric Valemont, Fourth Prince of the Eldoria Imperium!"

  Nodding at Sylvia, I squared my shoulders, adjusted my posture, and stepped forward into the bright lights of the hall, the eyes of the imperium upon me.