Very Wrong Reincarnation: Isekai with Game Nation

Vol. 3 Chapter 20

At Norvoga High Castle, Zava stood in the great audience hall before the throne, facing the full weight of his failures. He was the prince of Norvoga, a man who by all reasonable expectation should have died long ago. Whether by magic, luck, or something more unsettling, he had survived every disaster that had followed him, even as the fleets he commanded were erased one after another.

The first time should have killed him. It happened at Marjorie, when Oliver ordered the destruction of the port and authorized a nuclear strike. The blast wiped out everything that mattered. Zava survived only because he fled at the last moment, escaping aboard a steamboat that barely outran the shockwave. He watched his fleet vanish behind him, reduced to fire and water, and somehow lived.

The second time came soon after. Determined to restore his honor and Norvoga’s pride, Zava led another fleet to retaliate against Cignus. Instead, that fleet crossed paths with the Cignus 1st Fleet en route to attack Antares. The engagement was not a battle so much as an execution. Norvoga’s ships were destroyed in open water, torn apart by weapons they could not answer. Zava survived again, clinging to debris, drifting for two days at sea before being picked up by a patrol vessel.

A month later, it happened a third time. Zava personally oversaw military exercises using newly acquired armed steamships, meant to prove that Norvoga could still stand on equal footing with its enemies. Instead, the exercise ended in disaster when Cignus forces intercepted the fleet. Every ship was sunk. Once again, Zava lived.

Survival, however, did not erase the losses. It did not restore the navy. It did not cleanse Norvoga’s name.

Now, inside the High Castle, he stood before his father, King Julian II. The hall was full. Nobles, ministers, senior officers, and court officials lined the sides, their eyes fixed on Zava. Their looks were not curious or concerned. They were cold, heavy, and full of judgment.

Several of Norvoga’s most expensive and prized warships were gone. Four central battery ironclads, symbols of the nation’s strength, had been lost under Zava’s command. The silence in the hall pressed down on him harder than any spoken accusation.

King Julian II rose slowly from his throne. His voice was calm, controlled, and far more dangerous for it.

“Zava,” he said, “I am disappointed.”

The word carried across the hall without effort.

“Greatly disappointed,” the king continued. “You have failed not once, not twice, but three times. And this does not even account for the scale of the losses you caused. A significant portion of our proud navy is gone because of your incompetence.”

He looked directly at his son.

“I have never been ashamed of having you as my child,” the king said.

The statement landed harder than any shout.

“Father, hear me—” Zava tried to raise his head and speak.

Before he could finish, guards stepped forward and struck him down to the floor. His words were cut off as he hit the stone, the sound echoing through the hall.

“I did not give you permission to speak,” King Julian said. “Nor to raise your head.”

The king shook his head slowly, as if the sight before him was exhausting rather than infuriating.

“As my son,” he continued, “your sentence will be lower and more dignified than most would receive.”

A servant approached with a glass. A maid handed it to the king with both hands, her eyes fixed on the floor. The liquid inside was clear.