Soul of Blades - Interlude: R’jdar the Conqueror (Patreon)

R'jdar grimaced at his current circumstances, stranded on the planet ‘Pyra’, a new world yet untouched by the empire's influence. A realm he guessed would not even be deemed worthy for a lowly initiate to manage. He scowled at his surroundings, looking at the primitive landscape with thinly veiled disgust. The mana of the world was thick and rich, true, but that hardly made up for its lack of infrastructure or advancement.

He stood over the lazy third prince's lifeless body, his cunning scheme a success. The third prince, strong and muscular, had fallen victim to R'jdar's ambush. His twisted horns now lay broken at his younger siblings' feet. It wasn't their first clash, but this time, the prince was exposed and vulnerable without his allies or siblings. Taking him by surprise had been too easy. Ambushing the mighty prince was like plucking the wings off an arrogant fly.

Thoughts of the sacrifice and ritual he had planned filled R'jdar's mind. If all went well, his stats would soar. His race, would finally evolve. Years of research and preparation had led to this moment, and he couldn't contain his excitement. Power was within his grasp, and he couldn't wait to seize it.

That insignificant speck of a human had unveiled potential beyond R'jdar's expectations. The essence of Dao around him, though faint, was noticeable to those who had seen it before. This was both a surprise and a cause for concern.

It was a shame he had to die, insights into the Dao were exceedingly rare.

R'jdar had always known that the Dao was universal, unbounded by the mortal realm's confines. Its presence within system users, however, had been minuscule and hardly recognizable. These were beings whose powers had been restrained, forced to rely on the crude manipulation of mana and magic. To observe a faint flicker of the Dao within one so young and within the system was a novelty.

On his home-planet of Hellven, only the oldest and most powerful of warriors held Daos, and he could count them on one hand. The three. Their Daos had turned them into uncontested powerhouses. The 'Soulsmith', the 'KinSlayer', and his Father, the King.

R'jdar spat in irritation at the thought of the old man.

That negligible human, ‘Alex’ had unwittingly revealed a spark of potential, like finding a Mythril nugget in a pile of dirt. It was almost comical how such a small flame could ignite a wildfire of ambition within R'jdar's heart.

A Dao of his own. His imagination ran wild at the thought.

Placing the power of the Dao into the hands of a human was like holding a thunderstorm in a teacup. It was better served being held by someone like R’jdar. The mere thought made him snicker with wicked delight. Oh, the storms he would unleash upon the worlds.

In the hands of someone like R’jdar, it could be a vessel through which he could ascend to power beyond the martial empire's control.

With the humans and 'Alex' out of the picture, R'jdar's objective was crystal clear: to conquer this backwater realm. It was like taking candy from a baby—well, more like taking a crown from an unsuspecting king.

The word 'conquer' left a sour taste in his mouth. It was far beneath him to spend his time conquering a world like this. Yet, his current predicament forced him to act against his wishes. As the fourth prince, he was obligated to ‘prove his worth’ to his demonic kingdoms, especially with his powerful siblings also striving for the same goal.

He glanced around at his small surviving demon horde, a fraction of what he had commanded before the spatial anomaly had wreaked its havoc. But these demons were loyal, fierce, and they trusted their prince. He'd not earned that trust through displays of power, but through cunning strategies and clear victories.

His siblings may have flaunted their raw power, like peacocks spreading their vibrant feathers, but R'jdar preferred a more subtle approach. Like a cunning spider spinning its loom, he weaved intricate webs to ensnare his prey.

And despite the odds, he never failed.

Seize the reins of power, reshape the fate of this backwater world, and secure his place among the powerhouses of Hellven. But to do that, he knew he would have to play his cards right. He had his sights set on the strategic points of Pyra – the rich mana springs, the birthplaces of 'mythical' beasts, and the locations pulsing with residual energy from past battles and events.

R'jdar smiled, revealing an intimidating row of sharp, pointed teeth. He had grown to relish the thrill of besting his betters, the intoxicating sensation of surpassing the limits fate had thrust upon him, and the indomitable will it inspired in him to win at any cost.

But, he still had to be cautious. In a newly inducted world, the system had restricted their stats, but not their skills and classes. The rest of his siblings were not to be underestimated, even in a world like this. The familiar, fiery energy he sensed was a clear indication that they were here as well, just as hungry to claim the world for themselves. The twisted game of thrones he had played back in Hellven continued here on Pyra.

To deal with his siblings, In the silence of the foreign world, a sly, cunning plan started to take form in R'jdar's mind. With no significant humans, and no ‘Alex’ to interfere this time, the path was clear for him to follow through with his schemes. But first, he needed allies, pawns for his grand play. He needed to mobilize the rest of the survivors from his demon horde, making them a force to be reckoned with. The demons were loyal, disciplined, and fierce – an ideal army to wage a war on this magical system world.

Feeling an almost childlike excitement, R'jdar reviewed his plan. First, he would have to secure the necessary resources to enhance his strength. The thought of absorbing raw magic was exhilarating. His ascension to power would come gradually, carefully, until he eventually rivalled an imperial. It would be inevitable. With this power, he would then return to Hellven, his treacherous opposition in his crosshairs.

He longed for the taste of true victory, of finally achieving what he had been denied because of his 'defect'. He yearned for the look of shock and disbelief on his siblings' faces as they fell, one by one, to his cunning strategies and newfound power.

And with the death of the third, he had finally had a taste. A sample. Defect or no, he would ascend.

With an almost predatory smirk, R'jdar continued his journey. His mind filled with dreams - dreams of victory, of vengeance. He thought of the throne that rightfully belonged to him, soon to be just one among many he could choose to sit upon.