Chapter 1: Ceiling of Another World
Elias slowly opened his eyes. A vast and vaulted ceiling loomed above him, obscured by a shroud of neglect. The room was large, but it looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a very long time. Dust coated every surface, lying thick and grey on the remnants of ornate furniture, the cold stone floor, and the cracked plaster walls. High above, cobwebs hung from the rafters like ghostly fingers, swaying faintly in a draft he couldn't feel.
A sharp, stabbing pain lanced through his skull, and he let out a loud scream, the sound raw and startling in the oppressive silence.
The door to the room burst open, and a middle-aged man rushed in. His face, weathered by sea and sun and etched with genuine worry, was familiar – Gareth, the quartermaster of his ill-fated ship.
"My lord, are you alright?" Gareth asked, his voice filled with concern. Elias pushed himself up onto trembling elbows, the movement stirring more dust. He met Gareth's gaze, still wincing against the throbbing ache behind his eyes.
"I'm fine," he lied, his voice hoarse. "Where are we? And what happened after we encountered the storm?"
Gareth's expression turned somber. He knelt beside the simple pallet Elias lay on. "It's been three days since we encountered the storm on the deep sea. It seems we were pulled into some sort of... anomaly." Gareth's voice dropped, heavy with the memory. "After we encountered the storm, everything went dark, and we couldn't see anything. When we came back to our senses, we found ourselves in this strange land."
He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. His gesture encompassed the decaying room and the world beyond. "We're surrounded by four large islands, and in the center of them is a fifth island that appears to be a royal palace. The four islands seem to be cities, and we're currently on the central island, which is the palace. It's the only place where we've seen other people who seem to be living here."
Elias's mind reeled. Cities? A palace? The words promised grandeur, but the thick dust coating his tongue and the pervasive smell of decay screamed abandonment. The sheer ordinariness of neglect felt utterly at odds with the concept of a royal seat.
"How are the others?" he rasped, a sudden chill cutting through the lingering headache. "Were there any who lost their life?"
Gareth shook his head, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "No lives lost, my lord. By some mercy. But several knights were injured in the chaos – broken bones, deep gashes, one nasty concussion. They need rest and proper care to recover."
Elias stared at the dust motes dancing in a weak shaft of light filtering through a grimy window. No deaths. A small comfort in this bewildering exile. He needed space. Needed to reconcile the impossible collision of worlds within his own skull.
"Leave me alone for a while. I need to rest," he managed, the weight of it all pressing down.
Gareth nodded, bowing slightly before exiting the room, the heavy door closing with a soft, final thud.
Alone. Elias slumped back onto the thin, musty mattress. Silence pressed in, thick with dust and the crushing weight of displacement. His thoughts turned to his life the past sixteen years.
A duality sharp as shrapnel. He was not from here; he came from Earth. Dr. Elias Thorne. He had been a world-renowned scientist and inventor, known for his groundbreaking creations in quantum field dynamics and energy manipulation. Brilliance that promised to reshape humanity... snuffed out.
But one day he had died in an explosion, when he was trying to invent something new that was going to take his life to the next level but he died. The catastrophic containment breach. The searing white light consuming his laboratory. Then... oblivion.
And waking as Prince Elias Solarius, ninth son of Emperor Cyrus, in this new world. This world was called the Star God Realm, a realm filled with magical creatures and legendary beasts. Power was everything here, and individuals could become knights or mages.
Elias's memories as Prince Elias were a chronicle of irrelevance, a testament to his lack of significance in the imperial court. His mother, a beautiful maid, had caught the emperor's eye, and he had taken her as one of his concubines. However, when Elias was born, it became apparent that he had no talent – no spark of Aether, utterly null, incapable of becoming even a Novice Knight or Apprentice Mage.
The emperor's disdain was palpable, and Elias was denied respect, looked down upon by everyone in the palace. He was a ghost in the gilded halls of power, invisible and insignificant. The emperor withheld resources, denying him tutors, cultivation manuals, and even basic sustenance.
Elias's knowledge from his past life was useless in this new world. Any attempt to share his understanding of science and technology was met with ridicule, confiscation, or swift destruction. His mother's love was the only solace he knew. Liana's gentle voice sang lullabies filled with impossible hope, and her silent protection shielded him from the worst of the palace's cruelty.
Tragedy struck when Elias was ten years old. His mother passed away, leaving him alone and adrift in the imperial court. Six years of silent endurance followed, during which Elias learned to navigate the treacherous waters of palace politics.
On his sixteenth birthday, Elias received a cold summons to the throne room. The emperor's decree was delivered without ceremony, flanked by powerful half-brothers radiating controlled Aether. Elias was given 500 low-level knights, 100,000 gold coins, and a low-level warship, the _Swift Dolphin_. The unspoken command was clear: vanish, cease to be an embarrassment.
Without anyone left in the empire who cared for him, Elias boarded the ship and set sail, leaving behind the only life he had ever known. The storm that struck two days later was no ordinary tempest. The sky ripped open, and lightning arced towards the mast. Elias was hit and lost consciousness.
As he regained awareness, Elias found himself in a strange, decaying palace.