"…pulse returning…"
"…closing the wound…"
Frantic, muffled voices stirred him awake.
He opened his eyes to a hazed world.
Blinking slowly, he saw the dark silhouette of pine branches clawing at the bleak sky. The scent of damp earth and something metallic filled his lungs.
A forest…?
Why would he be here?
He'd been on a plane, reading a novel, and—
Pain exploded in his abdomen. A groan slipped from his throat.
Had the plane crashed?
He glanced downward and found figures encircling his body. Their forms blurred, voices overlapping.
Rescuers…?
Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled low, casting cold light across their steel armor. One of them knelt beside him, pressing glowing hands against his abdomen. Warmth seeped into the wound.
He stared in a daze.
More figures emerged at the edge of his vision—knights hiding beneath bushes and behind trees, weapons drawn.
Was it a dream?
But the agony was too real—
Warm liquid splashed across his face. He froze, eyes widening in horror.
An arrow jutted from the knight's throat before him. The man sagged, then collapsed against him.
"Protect His Highness!"
The remaining knights surged up, closing around him. Black-robed men dropped from the canopy. Knights in the distance charged to meet them, swords swinging.
Steel rang. Arrows hissed through the darkness. Under jagged flashes of lightning, the clearing dissolved into a blur of silver and shadow. Screams tore through the air, swallowed by the thunder.
"…What is happening?" he mumbled, brows furrowing.
Crimson sprayed the air. One by one, the silhouettes collapsed.
A blinding flash—lightning streaked toward him.
"Shield!" someone shouted.
A transparent barrier flickered to life, only to explode on impact. The shockwave hurled him through the air and slammed him face-first into the ground.
Pain rippled through him. His ears rang. Dirt and blood filled his mouth.
Suppressing the agony, he forced himself upright.
"Prince Lucien!"
He turned toward the voice. A crossbow bolt glinted before him, then punched through his head. Sounds vanished, and the world went blank.
Gasping sharply, his eyes flew open—he was back on the ground.
The same pain. The same taste of dirt and blood. The same scene.
His brows furrowed. What was—
"Prince Lucien!"
Lucien threw himself sideways, landing on his back just as a bolt bit the dirt.
Shadow loomed overhead. A black-robed man lunged, blade screaming downward. He caught the man's chest with a boot and kicked upward, flinging the assassin over his head.
The man slammed into the earth behind him with a groan. Lucien snatched the bolt and drove it into the man's neck before he could stir. Blood splattered across his leather glove.
Footsteps crunched beside him. He hopped back as a blade whistling past his chest, missing by a hairbreadth.
Spotting a fallen blade, Lucien kicked the hilt upward, caught it midair, and met the next strike with a clash of steel. Agony flared through his arm, wrenching a grunt from his throat as the impact sent him staggering back.
The man lunged, thrusting for the chest. Lucien twisted aside, seizing the assassin's sword arm and driving his blade toward the man's neck.
The assassin caught his wrist in a vice-like grip. Lucien gritted his teeth, a fresh wave of pain clamping through his arm as they locked together.
Lucien spat. The glob struck in the assassin's eyes. As the man flinched, Lucien kicked him in the abdomen, sending him sprawling.
Not letting him regain his footing, Lucien charged and drove his blade through the man's throat. Crimson burst forth, drenching the soil.
Something slammed into the side of his head. The world tilted, voices drowned out, and darkness swallowed him.
A sharp gasp escaped Lucien—he was back, standing over the dying man, his blade still buried in the assassin's neck. He wrenched the steel free and spun, meeting the impending attack mid-swing.
Sparks erupted as the bolt deflected off his blade. A hiss escaped his throat, pain ripping through his arm from the jarring impact.
Fuck, that hurts.
He'd parried arrows during HEMA sparring before, but this force was on a whole different level. It felt as though a galloping horse crashed into his arm.
"Your Highness!"
Five knights rushed forward, encircling him in a protective ring. Their eyes darted through the chaos.
"We need to escape!" one of them shouted over the din. "This way!"
They pushed through the carnage. Lucien glanced over his shoulder. The battlefield had become a raging sea of steel, while arrows and spells shrieked and burst overhead.
From what he deduced, he had been thrown into a world of fantasy. The address—Your Highness—told him he'd taken over a prince's dead body.
"Who are they?" Lucien asked at last, voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
"Assassins, Sir!" the nearest knight answered between ragged breaths. "Likely sent by House Vazquez!"
Lucien arched a brow. Vazquez?
That was the faction supporting the protagonist in the novel he'd been reading on the plane.
Had he just entered that book?
A blinding light surged from behind, painting the world white. The knights halted abruptly, calling forth walls of earth a heartbeat before it struck.
A thunderous explosion erupted. The ground buckled beneath them. Dust and debris geysered into the air, leaving a single barrier crumbling behind. Amidst the swirling dirt, black-robed men sprinted toward them.
One of the knights turned to Lucien, his breathing heavy. "Your Highness, run! I'll stall them!"
Lucien hesitated, conflicted. He didn't want these men to die for him, but if he stayed, he would surely perish. Lucien didn't know how to cast magic, and with spells clashing in the air, he felt like a shrimp caught in a fight between whales.
A sharp whizzing sound snapped their attention forward. The knights raised their weapons, deflecting a volley of incoming arrows. Sparks danced off their blades.
"Your Highness, we have to move!" the knight beside him urged.
Lucien turned on his heel and dove into the thicket, thorny branches clawing at the gaps in his armor. The wind swallowed the distant battle cries as their ragged breaths mingled with the thunder. Above, lightning illuminated the jagged path in strobe-like bursts.
A cold droplet struck Lucien's brow. He looked up just as the drizzle turned into a downpour. Within moments, white fog rose from the forest floor, swallowing their legs in a sea of grey.
Nevertheless, the further they ventured, the heavier his body grew. The padding beneath his armor drank in the rain, while mire clung to his boots. Lucien exhaled sharply. At this point, they would die from hypothermia or exhaustion. Either way, they needed shelter.
The knight abruptly shoved him sideways. As Lucien staggered, a transparent blast slammed into the knight, hurling him into a tree. He struck the trunk hard, a groan escaping his lips before his body slid into the mud.
"Run, Your Highness!" the knight bellowed, scrambling up even as he coughed blood.
Gritting his teeth, Lucien bolted away.
To a man who spent years leading from the front line, retreat was a disgrace carved into bone. But he was the objective.
He had to survive.
Otherwise, their sacrifice would mean nothing.
Forcing the thoughts aside, Lucien's gaze darted through the surroundings, searching for a place to hide. But all he could see were banks of fog and the encroaching darkness of night. Lightning flashed intermittently, his only guide.
His boot skidded in the slick mud, pitching him forward into a thicket.
"Ah—!"
Lucien squeezed his eyes, bracing for the impact. But the ground gave way beneath him. His eyes flew open, only for the world to spin as his body tumbled down a steep slope.
His sword tore free from his hand. His helmet ripped away. Branches clawed at him. Rocks slammed into his armor. Each impact sent fresh agony through his body. He tasted dirt and rotting leaves.
At last, he crashed at the base of the slope.
Lucien lay sprawled in the mud, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stared up into the darkness above in a daze as rain pelted his skin. Pain throbbed through his ribs. Without the armor, they might have shattered.
Suppressing the agony, Lucien pushed himself to his feet. Lightning flashed overhead, turning the world white.
And he saw it.
A massive beast stood before him, its slitted yellow eyes already fixed on him.
Shit.