Reborn As A Nephilim: The Rise of A Manaless Prince

After the maid excused herself, Arvell began exploring the room.

A room like this was a foreign, yet nostalgic sight for Arvell.

He didn't quite like the all-silver colour scheme, but it looked elegant nonetheless.

Fitting for a duke's mansion.

He gently placed his bag on the floor and crashed on the bed in exhaustion.

Keeping up a facade in front of the Silvercolts was a tiring task, to say the least.

He would much rather train until he passed out than do this.

Unfortunately for Arvell, earning their support was fundamental for procuring his future in Elantrya.

After resting for a couple of minutes, he pushed himself back to his feet.

He wandered through the room, taking in the sights.

He ran his fingers along the surface of the drawer, feeling the hard ebony wood under his finger.

Looking at his finger, he smiled.

'Not even a speck of dust. However, for some reason, Silver and Ebony wood seem to be recurring quite frequently though.'

'Maybe the duke really likes the contrast between the light-silver room and the dark ebony wood? To the point where he made his entire house the same colour scheme?' Lykos mused.

Arvell let out a small smile.

'Maybe.'

As Arvell explored the room, he stopped in front of a full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

His jaw dropped as he blankly gaped at the mirror.

Or rather, it's reflection.

'I never got to look at myself using a proper mirror, only using my reflection off of nearby lakes and rivers as a reference. But… My face… It's so perfect?'

Arvell touched his face and felt his cheek.

It was quite soft and supple, feeling just like that of a woman's.

He hadn't cared too much about his appearance since he was living out in the wild for the last 5 months.

Beasts didn't care about your appearance, only strength mattered.

However, for intelligent species such as humans, looks played a crucial role in social interactions.

For example, the meeting with the Silvercolts would have gone completely different had Arvell been a smelly, pot-bellied old man.

They would have been warier of Arvell, treating him with far more vigilance.

Instead, they treated him with trust, gratitude, and sympathy.

Even his made-up backstory was quite believable for them.

Such was the power of charm.

Arvell's mouth curled up as it slowly distorted into an icy smile.

'This will come in handy~'

Seeing Arvell stare so intently at his reflection, Lykos let out a soft chuckle.

'Be careful to not fall in love with yourself! I know it must be hard, but don't become too narcissistic. Dealing with Narcissists is annoying!'

Arvel sighed.

'Believe me, I know. I understood first hand how hard that is.'

Lykos's smile twitched.

He could read Arvell's mind, so he could naturally hear his inner thoughts.

Even those calling him out on his hypocrisy.

Deciding to leave it at that, Arvell backed away from the mirror.

He gave it one more cursory glance, before heading back to the bed.

Grabbing his bag that was lying in the middle of the floor, he brought it over to the drawer.

As he was putting it on the surface, a flash of realization went through Arvell's mind.

'Shit!'

He hurriedly opened the bag, only to find the egg safe and sound.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he lifted the egg and brought it with him to the bed.

He had forgotten completely about the egg, with everything that had happened to them in the last few days.

Arvell was far too preoccupied with keeping Zen and himself alive to notice.

Even after they got rescued, Arvell still had to sneak and heal the girl's tongue.

He didn't see any value in helping her, in fact, it might have made them suspicious of him and his powers.

However, he didn't want to lose sight of who he was.

Arvell grew up hearing tales of those who lost their way in revenge.

Those who let themselves be consumed by their own emotions.

People who were reduced to former shells of themselves.

A shadow of whom they once were.

While he didn't want to risk his own life for the sake of those he didn't care about, ignoring a situation where he could help without losing anything?

That would be nothing less than killing any good he had left in him.

The boy who gave alms to the hungry slum kid, even though he was not any better off himself.

That boy would no longer exist.

Arvell Relas Vispia was already considered dead, however, he didn't want Arvell Silvanus to be gone as well.

He had made sure that none of his actions could be traced back to him, and only after making sure that his plan would work did he heal that girl's tongue.

He had not wanted to further risk himself, but he couldn't just turn a blind eye.

In short, her bravery moved Arvell.

She willingly tried to kill herself through multiple methods.

First by stabbing her throat, and second by biting her tongue off.

All of this, just to avoid being a toy to those men.

She gritted through the pain and bit her tongue off.

Something that only those with a strong will could pull off.

Arvell felt it was a pity that such a woman would have to suffer for her whole life due to these bastards.

That's what moved him to heal her.

Against his better judgment.

Luckily that situation was able be diffused properly, however…

A seed of doubt had been planted in everyone's minds.

A seed that might one day grow into a thorn in Arvell's side.

'I guess I just have to get stronger than.' Arvell smiled.

He wouldn't run away from his problems but face them head-on.

What if he wasn't strong enough?

He would buy himself time to get stronger then.

Due to his new body and powers, Arvell couldn't even begin to fathom his potential.

Or what awe-inspiring might he will possess in the future.

All he needed was time, resources, and a stimulus to get stronger.

Luckily, he already had the stimulus.