The clang of metal echoed through the palace as Simone stood opposite his father in the grand sparring hall, their weapons raised in preparation. The Emperor, Alden, had been insistent on this private session, wanting to test Simone's strength once again. He had long since abandoned his hopes of controlling his son's power, but there was still something that haunted him: the transformation that Simone had undergone over the past few months. His power, his intelligence, his sheer presence—it was more than the Emperor had ever anticipated. Simone had surpassed all expectations.
Simone, for his part, was silent, his face a mask of cold indifference. He had just completed his duties as Crown Prince for the day, his decisions in the royal office leaving everyone astounded by how quickly he had adapted. His policies were sharp and decisive, his judgments so accurate it was as though he could read the very hearts of the empire's people. Every move Simone made was calculated, measured. Every day, the Emperor was forced to confront the uncomfortable truth: his son was no longer the timid, overweight boy who had once hesitated to wield his power.
They began their sparring, the Emperor's sword clashing against Simone's in a flurry of strikes and counterattacks. The air was thick with tension, as though the very walls of the palace knew the gravity of what was unfolding. The Emperor's eyes never left Simone's, trying to anticipate each move, but Simone's reactions were quick, precise—almost predatory. He moved with an unsettling grace, the darkness surrounding him like a second skin, making it impossible for the Emperor to predict his next attack.
Simone struck hard, and the Emperor stumbled back, thrown off balance. Simone's eyes flickered with a cold, unreadable gleam, his expression remaining as impassive as ever. The Emperor tried to regain his footing, only to find Simone right in front of him, his blade poised for another strike.
There was a moment of stillness—Simone's blade hovering just inches from his father's throat. The Emperor, breathing heavily, lowered his own weapon slowly, his heart racing in disbelief. He hadn't been able to lay a single blow on his son. Not once.
Simone stood there, his gaze unwavering, the darkness around him pressing in like a suffocating weight. His father's presence barely registered to him. The Crown Prince's transformation from a shy, overweight boy to a calculating, cold figure was complete.
The Emperor slowly lowered his sword, his thoughts racing. The fight had been one-sided, and the most unsettling part was how effortless it had been for Simone. He could sense it—the immense power that radiated from his son, the raw potential that had far surpassed anything the Emperor himself had achieved in his youth.
Simone's voice, flat and emotionless, broke the silence. "Is this what you wanted? For me to surpass you?"
The Emperor flinched, as if struck. He hadn't voiced his concerns aloud, but the words Simone had spoken were like an echo of his thoughts. He had pushed Simone, driven him past his limits, and now he feared that he had created a monster. One that could no longer be controlled, no longer bound by the rules of the empire.
Simone's gaze never wavered, and his voice was like a dagger. "I have surpassed you in strength, intelligence, and even the game of politics. All the things you could never teach me. Do you want me to stop?"
The Emperor stood frozen, his chest tightening. He wanted to speak, to protest, but no words came. The truth was too hard to admit. His son had surpassed him in every conceivable way. The power that had once been his alone, the throne that he had protected for so long—it was no longer within his grasp in the way he had once imagined.
Simone, sensing the Emperor's internal turmoil, narrowed his eyes. He could hear everything, even the thoughts his father tried to keep buried. The power of Darkness was no mere tool for destruction—it was a weapon for perception, for understanding things that others tried to keep hidden. Simone's abilities had extended far beyond mere combat. He could hear the Emperor's fears, his worries about what had happened to his once naive son.
"You are afraid," Simone said, his voice calm and almost detached. "Afraid of what you've created."
The Emperor's eyes widened. Simone's perceptiveness, his ability to read the Emperor's thoughts and fears, shook him to the core. How could his son have become so cold, so perceptive, so terrifyingly powerful?
Simone didn't wait for an answer. His eyes flicked to the sparring area, then back to his father. "I never wanted any of this. But you pushed me. You made me this way. And now… this is what you've created."
The Emperor's mind raced. How had it come to this? How had his son, once so weak, so hesitant, grown to become this unfeeling, calculating being? The realization hit him like a thunderclap—Simone was no longer the son he had raised. He had become something else entirely. Something beyond his control.
Simone stepped back, sheathing his weapon with an eerie calm. His power had grown too vast to contain, his abilities too immense to ignore. And now, even his father feared him.
Without a word, Simone turned and walked away, the darkness of his power trailing behind him like a cloak. The Emperor stood there, alone in the sparring hall, the weight of the truth sinking in. His son had surpassed him, and in doing so, had become something he could no longer understand, let alone control.
And in that moment, the Emperor realized the extent of his own failure. He had created a monster—but he had also created the most powerful person in the empire.