VoC: B1 — 1. Sentenced to Death
Added 2025-05-21 22:31:48 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Damon (Our New 24-Year-Old MC!)
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[System Trickery: Failed]
“Dark Elf!”
Damon’s eyes snapped open to blinding light, shackles biting his wrists—scripture burning into his flesh.
The voice was a gavel struck by God, every word rattling his bones.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
Wrong skin. Wrong hair. Wrong body.
It was wrong.
He was wrong.
“Finally awake!”
The voice in his head made him jolt. Familiar. Sarcastic. His sister.
The judgment thundered above him. “By the just laws of Mentris, you have been sentenced to death for the sin of concealing your true nature as an enemy of the kingdom and follower of The Spider.”
Damon’s inner wrist burned, making him flinch as a black tattoo of an arachnid throbbed there—twisting under his skin as if it wanted to crawl free.
[Divine Curse: The Spider’s Mark]
“Ack! Aria?” he rasped, his voice—not his voice—cracking like a ten-year-old’s as he rubbed his wrist. “Wait, death?!”
He winced, blinking rapidly against the blinding overhead light. Gilded sconces cradled hovering orbs, their brilliance flooding the marble chamber in oppressive waves.
Constrained on the cold stone floor, he squinted up at tiered balconies where nobles leaned over the railing, jeweled collars glinting like watchful eyes.
It was a grand, circular courtroom—too polished, too theatrical, like a stage set for his execution.
“Damon! Shut up and listen. You’re about to die. Think, don’t talk!”
Totally lost as to what was happening, Damon glanced down in shock to see far darker skin than he knew he had. Violet? That was weird. And there were thick, raven locks that hung wildly around his chest, which showed different muscles, and also…smaller? A child’s?
The hell is going on, Aria? Weren’t we in Hell’s Kitchen? Who are these people?
He could faintly make out a host of people on the second floor, oddly enough, dressed in medieval fashion, leering down at him as if he’d stolen their last twinkie; his little sister’s voice helped his foggy and fragmented mind focus—visions of the past flipped through his brain, visions of a childhood in another world.
“Long story short: you’re a dark elf prince, you’re ten, and we’re totally not in New York anymore,” Aria’s mental voice chirped with forced cheer. “Welcome to medieval fantasy court, where apparently being born a dark elf gets you a death sentence, especially when a part of some evil plot. Fun times! I know it wasn’t your thing, but think about a system menu, like a game. Eh, not ‘my games,’ but think about yourself, specifically.”
Damon’s mind reeled as fragments of memory crashed together like broken glass. A car crash. Flashing lights. Some fairy-like goddess. Then…nothing. Until now.
Like your anime shows? I’m being sentenced to death, and you’re talking about games? What…is going on, Aria?!
“Just try it! It’ll make sense.”
A holographic screen flickered into existence before his eyes:
Name: Damon
Race: Dhampir Dark Elf
Class: Sage
Subclass: Unity Tamer
Level: 1
Status: [Condemned] [Reincarnate] [Marked by Titania] [Cursed by The Spider]
“Nice. You’re a natural. Important parts: One, that dhampir part? Half-vampire, half-dark elf, one hundred percent screwed if grandpa has his way. Two, Unity Tamer. You might be a weak-ass little ten-year-old, but there’s way more to this world than that!”
Liar… I’m still lost, airhead.
“Oh, shut up! I’m showing you we’re in a new world!”
Sure. I get that. And our grandpa?! he repeated, still trying to keep up as he glanced at the neutral-faced king sitting front and center above them in his opposing throne. So, not a dream. Aria, is this like one of your…
“Yeah. Well, kind of—I’m not really related since, you know, I’m a lich—but it’s easier for me to call him grandpa because of Mom. She, like, adopted me! Grandpa still has no idea. I’m invisible! But we died. Isekai style. You’re a dark elf prince on trial. Try not to get executed. I’m the bling around your neck.”
Damon frowned. She sounded so certain, but he caught the wobble under her bravado. It was the same note she used when she’d done a half-hour cram session because she’d been gaming instead of studying the night before—like she was patching half-formed memories together and calling it fact.
For real?
“For real, for real.”
How much do you actually know, Aria?
“Eh. Mmm…” Her tone took on a pout. “Okay, so I don’t know ‘everything.’ Maybe I’m piecing together some stuff and might be…a little off. Like, a tiny bit. But mostly right! C'mon, trust me!”
Sure… Hold up…
A strange calm settled over him as fragmented memories snapped into place—the meeting with Titania. The chaotic-good fae goddess. Her voice was like wind chimes in a storm. One of the nine Greater Deities. The one who had chosen him to be her ‘champion’ of all things.
Green eyes…blindingly bright hair…laughter that felt like summer… Her words echoed in his mind:
“You seek to bring your sister and girlfriend along? An emotionally troubled teen with familial trauma… She will cling to family even when it leads her astray. And a young woman who hides devastating secrets… She steps toward her own damnation, yet you would follow her into any hell she brings? Love and fear, veiled in shadows, are a force that blinds and devastates… But hearts can be mended…”
Damon’s gut twisted like a knife—Sophia was hiding things from him?
Their fights flashed up, sharp and unfinished. Her half-answers, the way she’d fold meaning into poetry instead of saying it plain. He’d told himself it was just her way. But Titania’s words made it feel like a red flag more than something to work through.
Titania’s voice wasn’t done weaving through his mind, though:
“Yes, that can be arranged. Oh, and you wish to know how I would personally undergo this journey? Fascinating. In that case, yes, there are loopholes in the system. A system even I am bound by. But I only have one true reincarnate slot, which means you’ll need to share your points… All the knowledge I grant you will fade once out of my realm.”
The rest was a blur—flashes of golden warmth, the scent of summer flowers, and Titania’s laughter like wind chimes in a storm. He’d begged her for help, for knowledge, for a way to save them all.
“You are the first in thousands to ask how I’d personally game the system,” she’d giggled. “A wise soul. With your temperament? I know just the class…”
Shards of remembered sensations—golden warmth, the scent of summer flowers, the feeling of impossible power flowing through his veins. The choices had been rushed, overwhelming, instinctual. He’d entrusted himself to a chaotic goddess, and now here they were, about to be executed.
The king—his grandfather—sat motionless on his throne. King Enrir’s face revealed nothing, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at Damon. Not hatred, as Aria’s reaction led to believe. Something else.
What looked to be a divine priest stepped forward, reading from a scroll in a monotone drone.
“As a reincarnate who infiltrated the Tenebrin royal family through conspiracy with Princess Catelyn, we stand today to pass judgment before His holy court…”
Damon didn’t even know how to respond to that. Didn’t even try.
Eyes darting left and right, Damon focused intently, his mind catching up with flashes of past memories. Suddenly, it hit a block. We died, and met Titania… Soph! Aria, where is Sophia?! She came with us, didn’t she?
“Your GF’s not here…yet.” His sister’s voice was calm but clipped. “Chill. You can’t help me—or her—unless you’re calm. Deep breaths. Idiot.”
Taking a deep breath, he let it go, pulling back into himself and refocusing to get a better grasp of the situation. Okay. I’m listening… Why are they saying I’m a follower of The Spider? Wait, Aria, we have a mother here!
“Yeah, don’t go freezing on me, Damon! And I can’t explain everything right now. Shhh. I’m trying to listen to what Uncle Stephen is saying. I think there’s a plan.”
A distinguished voice cut through the accusations, firm and authoritative—a voice that tickled the back of his childhood memories. “Your Majesty, if I may…”
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