The days following the graduation ceremony at the Imperial Academy passed by in a blur. The Empire continued to flourish under Simone's meticulous guidance, but the toll of his ceaseless work was starting to show. He spent hours in his chambers, poring over documents, making decisions, and leaving no room for weakness or hesitation. Each day seemed to blend into the next, a never-ending cycle of duties and responsibilities.
Simone no longer needed to sleep or eat. His body had surpassed the need for such things, a side effect of his training under the Emperor. His powers of Darkness had evolved in ways that even he did not fully understand. He could feel the world around him, hear the whispers of those in the palace, in the city, and beyond. Every thought, every secret, was laid bare before him.
But there was no joy in it. No satisfaction. He was not the same person he had been before—before the training, before the relentless push to unlock his power. His emotions, once vibrant and full of life, had been stripped away. There was no room for weakness in the person he had become. He was a tool of the Empire, a crown prince without a heart, without a soul.
He sat at his desk, eyes scanning over a series of reports detailing the Empire's military movements, the state of the economy, and the growing tensions with neighboring nations. His sharp, calculating mind took in the information with ease, processing it and making decisions with terrifying efficiency. The reports seemed trivial now, mundane compared to the vast power he wielded.
But Simone couldn't escape the emptiness that lingered in the back of his mind. The constant barrage of thoughts and whispers, the suffocating presence of his own abilities, left him feeling more isolated than ever. He could hear the palace staff's fears, their doubts, even their pity. He could hear his siblings' whispered conversations about him—how they feared him, how they couldn't understand what had happened to him.
"Your Highness," a soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see Aster, his personal steward, standing in the doorway. Aster had always been a quiet presence in his life, one of the few who didn't fear or judge him, but even now, there was something different in his demeanor.
Simone raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the man's presence. "What is it, Aster?"
Aster hesitated, his gaze flickering nervously. "The Emperor has requested your presence in the war room. There are matters regarding the kingdom's defenses that require your attention."
Simone's expression didn't change. "Very well," he said coldly. "I'll be there shortly."
Aster nodded, stepping back from the door, but he hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Your Highness… if you don't mind me asking, how are you holding up?"
Simone's eyes narrowed slightly. The question was innocuous enough, but he could feel the concern radiating from Aster. It was the same concern that had been building in the palace ever since his transformation.
"I am fine," Simone replied, his voice devoid of emotion. "There is nothing to worry about."
Aster didn't respond, but Simone could see the hesitation in his eyes. The man clearly wanted to say more, but he knew better than to press further. Simone had changed. Everyone could see it. The boy they had known, the timid, shy prince, was no longer there. In his place stood a Crown Prince who commanded respect through sheer presence and power.
Simone stood up from his desk, walking toward the door with an air of detachment. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch and twist around him, responding to his every step. He could feel the palace's servants in the halls, whispering about him, their words reaching his ears with perfect clarity. He could hear their thoughts—fear, awe, and curiosity.
But none of it mattered. None of it could touch him. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He had a duty to the Empire, and that was all that mattered.
When he arrived at the war room, the Emperor was already there, standing at a large map, discussing strategies with his generals. As soon as Simone entered, all conversation stopped, and every eye turned toward him. The air seemed to thicken with tension, and even the Emperor's expression flickered for a brief moment. He had always been the one in control, but now, it was clear that his son had surpassed him in every way.
"Simone," the Emperor said, his voice gruff, as he turned to face his son. "You're late."
Simone's gaze remained steady, unwavering. "I am here now, Father," he replied, his tone neutral. "What is the situation?"
The Emperor didn't answer immediately. He studied his son for a long moment, as if trying to gauge his thoughts. But Simone's face revealed nothing—no emotion, no trace of the boy who had once been uncertain and weak. It was as though Simone had become a perfect reflection of the Empire itself—cold, calculated, and relentless.
"The situation is delicate," the Emperor finally said, his voice a bit softer. "The border territories are becoming restless. There are whispers of rebellion, of unrest. We need a strong hand to maintain control."
Simone nodded. "Then we will act swiftly," he said, his voice as cold and final as the winter winds. "We cannot afford to hesitate."
The Emperor watched his son, his expression unreadable. Inside, he was torn. He had molded Simone into something he could control, something he could use to solidify his rule. But the boy had become more than he ever intended. Simone had surpassed him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The room fell into silence as Simone began outlining the strategy to quell the rebellion, his voice steady and authoritative. His words were precise, his plan flawless. The generals nodded, taking notes, while the Emperor simply stood back and observed.
Simone had become the leader the Empire needed, but he had also become something far more dangerous. His power was unparalleled, his intellect unmatched, and his resolve unbreakable.
And yet, despite all of this, the Emperor couldn't shake the growing fear inside him. Had he made a mistake? Had he pushed Simone too far? Could he control the monster he had created?
But Simone didn't care. He was no longer the naive boy who had once sought his father's approval. He was the Crown Prince, the future ruler of the Empire. And he would do whatever it took to ensure the Empire's survival—even if it meant sacrificing what little remained of his humanity.
As the meeting continued, Simone's eyes remained fixed on the map, his thoughts already moving ahead, calculating every possible outcome. The darkness inside him grew, just as the shadows around him stretched longer and deeper. He was a being of power now, a force to be reckoned with, and nothing—no one—could stand in his way.