Mist

You were an ordinary boy, born into a royal family in the eighteenth century. Expensive clothes, dozens of servants. Even in this state, where you were practically groomed, you were a rather capable prince. Your abilities weren't limited to just signing papers. Servants taught you how to shoot a gun and handle bladed weapons. But you weren't destined to become a ruler. Your father had many older brothers destined for the throne.

You were desperate. Your father couldn't even imagine that his youngest son, whom he disliked, could become ruler. He decided to enlist the help of conspirators to get rid of you by any magical means necessary.

That day, you were sitting at the table when your father burst into the dining room and dragged you by the scruff of your neck to the unclean mages. They tied you to a tree and began performing a ritual. A green fire with a golden hue flared beneath your feet. You lost consciousness.

Consciousness came in fits and starts. You opened your eyes, no longer in the forest, but in some house. Due to the mage's mistake, you had been transported into the future. You were lying on something soft and large, unlike your usual furniture. The entire interior of the room was unlike the palace or the houses of your era. A young man entered the room. As he later introduced himself, his name was Mits. He approached you. His clothes were somehow too different, not as elegant as yours. His gaze slid over you. Your gaze fell on the calendar, and you froze. Written in black and white: 2026.