Chapter 3 :
From the great marble cities of the South Nation, over 300 applicants had submitted themselves for consideration. Among them was one whose presence alone could command armies.
Prince Blake Afrik, sole heir to the Kingdom of the Humanoid Society, lived a life of unimaginable comfort. He had never tasted hunger, never known fear, and never been denied a single desire. His world was one of endless luxury—a sprawling palace, flanked by loyal servants and reinforced by ancient bloodlines.
But for all his privilege, he yearned for one thing: freedom.
Freedom to choose his path, freedom to travel without guards, and freedom to live not as a prince, but as a person.
He had chosen a name for his secret self:
Van Staden—"Van" from his favorite book Seven Deadly Sins, and "Staden" meaning stay hidden.
To him, it wasn't just a name—it was a declaration.
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"#21! You are next!" a voice called from the registration hall.
"Hey! Van—wake up!" a tall figure beside him nudged his arm.
The man wore a formal brown vest and a pressed white undershirt. His name was Nate, belong to tribes of Tigers that lived on the coast of South Nation.
"They just called your number. You don't want to miss this chance to represent our kind," Nate whispered urgently.
Van stirred, eyes half-lidded.
"Noted, Servant," he murmured.
Nate blinked, confused. "What—?"
Van blinked, realizing his mistake. "No, I mean… acknowledged. Thank you, Nate."
He grabbed his golden envelope—the royal application form bearing his true name—and stood, straightening his dark cloak. The embroidery on his collar shimmered with subtle threads of blue and silver, a silent testament to his heritage.
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Van stepped into the elevator, where a polite but robotic female attendant waited to escort him.
He pressed the 'C' for Concourse and leaned back, letting the rising hum of the elevator fade into the background as his thoughts wandered—to a memory long buried.
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Years Ago – Age 8
"Mother, why can't I play football like the other boys?" young Blake asked, seated on the golden tiles of the palace courtyard.
Queen Martha, graceful and regal, knelt beside him and gently ran her fingers through his soft silver hair.
"Because, my son," she said with a soft smile, "you are not like the others. You are destined for far greater things. You have tutors, trainers, and cousins to play with, don't you enjoy that?"
The young prince frowned. "I do not. They let me win. Every time."
His mother arched a brow.
"It's not because I'm better. It's because they're afraid," he said solemnly. "Afraid they'll be punished, or worse—sent to Tartika. That's not winning."
Queen Martha's smile faded slightly. She rose and adjusted the hem of her emerald dress.
"Power demands respect, Blake. And fear, sometimes, is the only path to order."
But the boy shook his head.
"I don't want power. I don't want a crown. I just want to be real. One day… I'll leave this palace. I'll see the world for myself."
The Queen offered no reply. She simply turned and exited the room, her footsteps echoing behind her.
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Present
The elevator dinged.
As Van stepped into the Concourse Level, an automated scanning machine glided toward him, flashing holographic lights.
"Applicant #21, please proceed with the biometric scan," the AI voice instructed.
Van stood in front of the towering scanner.
"Gaze directly at the monitor for eye verification."
A green light blinked. He stared, unblinking.
"Now turn to your right. Do not smile."
He followed the prompt, expression blank.
"Present your right index finger for a micro blood sample."
Van hesitated, then pressed his finger into the tiny hole beneath the scanner.
"Ah!" he winced. "That stings!"
"Repeat process. Left index finger."
He groaned but complied.
Another sting.
"Verification complete. Identity confirmed: Prince Blake of the Kingdom Afrik, South Nation. You are cleared for the next evaluation phase."
Van hesitated, then leaned in slightly.
"Can you… hide my identity?" he asked. "Call me Van Staden from here forward."
The machine paused for a moment, then responded in its smooth mechanical tone:
"Request accepted. From this point on, your identity shall be classified under Van Staden."
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He exhaled, relieved.
No titles. No crown. Just him.
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TO BE CONTINUED…