Reincarnated as the disaster prince

The chaos of the battle outside echoed faintly through the grand halls of the Donovan estate. The Queen, her once-pristine gown now disheveled and stained with sweat, fled down the dimly lit corridors. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned corners at random, desperate to escape the sounds of fighting that grew closer.

Suddenly, she froze.

At the end of the hallway, a man stood silhouetted against the flickering light of a chandelier. His orange hair and plain features seemed familiar, yet something about his stance sent chills down her spine.

"Show yourself!" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her attempt at authority.

The man chuckled softly and began to walk toward her. With each step, his features melted away like wax, revealing the figure she feared most. His black hair gleamed like a blade, and his crimson eyes burned with cold malice.

"Theodore," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He stopped a few feet away, his smirk widening. "Enjoying the chaos, stepmother?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery.

The Queen's fear gave way to anger. She straightened, trying to reclaim her composure. "Curse child! Bastard! Is this your doing?"

"Of course," Theodore replied casually, inspecting his nails as if bored. "Do you like my gift? I tailored it just for you."

Her lip curled in disgust. "You vile brat. You've always been a blight on this family."

Theodore's smirk faded, replaced by an expression of cold, calculating anger. "Let's not waste time with insults. I'm here for answers. Why, Bianca? Why did you try to kill me?"

The Queen tilted her head, her smile venomous. "You remind me of her—your wretched mother. That pathetic woman who thought she could compete with me."

Theodore's gaze darkened, but he said nothing, letting her continue.

"She was weak," the Queen spat, pacing now, her fury growing. "So trusting, so naïve. She sat across from me, sharing tea like a fool, never suspecting that I had poisoned her cup. Watching her choke, watching the life drain from her eyes, was... delicious."

Theodore's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. Yet his expression remained calm, his lips curving into a smile. "Is that so?" he said softly. "And I suppose you thought you could kill me just as easily?"

Bianca's laugh was cold and sharp. "I should have succeeded. You're just like her—a stain on this family. I've spent years trying to rid myself of you. But you're stubborn, aren't you? Like a cockroach that refuses to die."

Theodore took a step closer, his aura pressing down on her like a crushing weight. "You made a mistake, Bianca," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. But now..." He raised his hand, and a swirling portal of black mist began to form behind him, its edges crackling with dark energy.

Bianca's confidence faltered as the air grew heavy, the mist swirling faster, its sinister pull growing stronger. "What are you doing?" she demanded, stepping back. "You wouldn't dare."

Theodore laughed, the sound echoing ominously through the hall. "Wouldn't I? You've sealed your fate, Bianca. You killed my mother. You tried to kill me. Now it's your turn to experience true despair."

Bianca turned to flee, but shadows erupted from the ground, gripping her ankles like iron chains. She screamed, clawing at the walls, but the shadows only tightened their grip, dragging her toward the portal.

"Theodore!" she shrieked. "You can't do this! I'll tell the King—I'll tell everyone what you are!"

Theodore stepped closer, leaning down so his face was inches from hers. "Tell them whatever you like... from the depths of my underworld."

The Queen's eyes widened in terror as she was pulled through the portal. The last thing she saw was Theodore's smirking face, framed by the flickering light of the hallway.

Bianca landed hard on the cold, jagged ground of the underworld. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the sky above her was a swirling mass of red and black, lightning crackling ominously across it. Around her, shadows stirred, their hollow eyes gleaming as they crept closer.

She tried to rise, but her body was weak, her limbs trembling as the oppressive energy of the underworld bore down on her. The whispers started softly at first, unintelligible but menacing. They grew louder, overlapping until they became an unbearable cacophony.

"You're nothing," one voice hissed.

"Worthless," another sneered.

Bianca clutched her head, screaming as the voices tore into her mind. She stumbled backward, only to collide with a shadowy figure. It grinned, its jagged teeth glinting, before plunging a claw into her shoulder. Bianca screamed, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt.

The shadows swarmed her, their claws tearing at her flesh, their voices laughing cruelly. They dragged her deeper into the abyss, where the darkness grew thicker, more suffocating. She could feel her bones breaking, her flesh ripping, yet she remained alive, trapped in a cycle of unending torment.

Through the haze of pain, she saw him—Theodore. He stood on a distant ledge, watching her with cold satisfaction.

"Please!" she begged, her voice hoarse. "Theodore! Have mercy!"

Theodore tilted his head, as if considering her plea. Then he smiled. "Mercy? I'm afraid you're mistaken, stepmother. I don't believe in mercy."

With a wave of his hand, the shadows descended on her fully, their forms merging into a writhing mass that consumed her completely. Her screams echoed through the underworld, growing fainter until they were swallowed by the darkness.

Moments later, the shadows reassembled, forming a perfect replica of Bianca. The new Queen knelt before Theodore, her movements eerily fluid. "My lord," she said, her voice identical to the original's, "what are your orders?"

Theodore regarded her for a moment before speaking. "You will return to the castle and continue as if nothing has happened. Play your role perfectly. And make sure no one suspects a thing."

The shadow queen bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord."

As she vanished, Theodore turned to Belial, who had watched the entire ordeal with a gleeful grin.

"My lord," Belial said, clapping slowly, "you truly are a master of theatrics."

Theodore's smile returned, colder than ever. "This is just the beginning, Belial. The Queen's end was necessary, but the real game is far from over."

Belial's laughter echoed through the underworld as they both vanished, leaving behind the faint whispers of shadows in their wake.