There was an awkward banquet after the audience, followed by an introduction to the suitor’s competition, about which I couldn't care less. I wanted results, and so long as the kingdom gave me access to what I wanted, I didn’t mind if I married the princess.

After all, I didn’t dislike a noble society where everything was structured. Therefore, if I had real power, I could revolutionize this country with a ruthlessness not seen since Peter the Great viciously beat nobles and military members with a cane and his bare hands.

Times were simpler back then.

Once that was completed, I had an audience with the king. I pulled out tiny jars of the various crystals, which I had labeled, added a Heartbeat Hibiscus dark crystal to a glass of water, and drank it. Then Chamberlain Rockwell drank it, followed by the monarchs. Everyone emotionally bonded because of the drug, and the monarchs officially loved me.

That’s why I chose the flower.

Thus, I instantly received a patent, as the technology was revolutionary, and the king agreed that having a patent and allowing the nobility to reorient their businesses was ideal. Thus, I solved multiple problems.

Thank God I had read economics.

As the night came to a close, I used the Dreamweaver Daisy soap as a demonstration and went off to bed. I had a vivid dream about blowing Ironfall off the map with trebuchets, mortars, cannons, and siege towers, all of which could be easily made within a month at the latest.

It was a truly wonderful dream.

I awoke, dressed, and enjoyed a banquet with a flurry of awkward introductions and stiff faces. However, the conversations always went like this.

“It seems that you’re doing well already,” a noble would say, feeling me out.

“Yes, I’m pleased with the soap production,” I’d reply, glossing over their concerns. “Would you like to make extravagant sums of money? Exclusivity doesn’t preclude partnerships.”

Then they changed their tune.

That’s how the first day went. Then, we had tea with Rema one-on-one. She smirked a lot during our meeting. I drank tea. It wasn’t that bad. After all, we were both getting what we wanted. Rema wanted a halfway-decent guy with power, and I wanted someone of age, access to a library, and magic tutoring.

Princess Redfield was eight, so she’d turn eighteen before we got married, and magic tutoring started immediately. That’s what I was currently doing.

All the suitors and I were lined up in the training grounds, a large courtyard within the castle walls with practice dummies, a large pond, and various tools like turbines that wind mages could practice with.

A large man in green and gray robes with a white beard who appeared to be in his seventies stood before us. He had a gnarled wooden staff in his right hand and a crystal ball in his left.

-

-

“My name is Alphonse Gurrigs, but you will call me Master Gurrig in private and Viceroy Gurrig in public,” Alphonse instructed. “I’m a wizard. If you don’t know what that is or how it compares to you as weavers, let me explain my journey.

After learning my first C-rank spell at twenty, I became a mage. For the next century, I mastered twenty spells, one of which was a B-rank, and became a sage. Then, after two hundred more years, I obtained over fifty spells and an A-rank spell and became a wizard.

That’s what it takes to be someone like me. Needless to say, I’m more than qualified to teach you.”

Excitement coursed through our veins. A royal wizard, the near pinnacle of power, only surpassed by archwizards, who utilized S-rank calamity spells, was our teacher!

“This crystal ball will gauge your potential,” he continued. “Place your hand on it, and it will glow from non-activation to a bright star, with few exceptions. Lord Everwood, please approach to demonstrate.”

I sighed internally. The last thing that I wanted was to disclose my power publicly. If it were too weak, then all the suitors would challenge me to deathmatches, they’d die, and I’d be declared a demon and possibly executed. Conversely, if my power were too high, I’d likely be labeled the demon lord outright. Therefore, I prayed that I started at rock bottom, putting me at a respectable level before my boosts.

"Yes, Master Gurrigs," I replied with a bow, walking up to the ball. Upon touching it with my palm, I felt mana drain from my body in truckloads, and it lit up fully, albeit weakly.

"Hoh ho!" Alphonse chuckled. "25%. It seems you’re not the demon lord’s reincarnation after all."

The other suitors snickered and sneered, relishing in my “setback.” Their pride inflated with each passing moment. However, I wasn’t focused on them. I was trying to control my facial expressions because Rema had told me there was no way to check if I was the demon lord!

Technically, there wasn't a way to check. And not being the demon lord didn't mean I couldn't be a demon. Still, it was a deceitful twist that was almost commendable and filled me with bitterness I'd never forget.

Maybe. Unlike Stella, who tried using me as a pawn in her petty power play, Rema helped me secure an opportunity to marry a princess, obtain tutoring, and access a library.

I wondered if I could forgive her. Is that something normal people would do?

“Lord Marrow,” Alphonse called. Lord Marrow referred to Greggory Marrow, whose mother, Regina, always fawned over me. As such, when the black-haired teenager passed me, he shot me a mocking smile and mouthed, “Twenty-five.”

I silently pleaded to Athena, Zeus, and even Aphrodite. 'Please don’t let him have enough power to kill me outright.'

Greggory placed his palm on the ball and channeled his mana with his eyes closed. When he felt mana draining from him, he opened his eyes in excitement, only to realize that the ball wasn’t glowing! In fact, it was, but the sunlight made it impossible for anyone to see!

“Hmmm… 8%, give or take,” Alphonse noted, his eyes laced with subtle deceit.

“N-No way,” Greggory stuttered, his expression crumbling as the suitors snickered. “Let me do it again.”

“Even if you wanted to, this ball has already drained your mana, so it’ll only yield a weaker result,” Alphonse replied. “Prince Moore!”

Greggory wouldn't meet my gaze as he passed by. His fists were clenched and trembling, and his face was flushed red with suppressed rage. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for me, the results for most of the other suitors weren't much better.

“5%”

“12%”

“2.5%”

“15%”

“3%,” Alphonse announced, shooing a prince away with wind magic because he grew weary of him complaining.

Initially, there were murmurs about whether the wizard deliberately gave a higher number to the front-runner. However, they quickly realized that he had given them vanity numbers. After all, “15%” was barely visible!

Before there was an uproar, something peculiar happened.

“Lady Brooke,” Alphonse called. To everyone’s surprise, a girl with black hair and vibrant blue eyes stepped forward, sparking a flurry of speculation. “Oh, hush,” he said, effectively silencing the crowd. “I’m not only teaching the suitors.”

His words calmed everyone as she stood before the ball and placed her hand on it, her expression emotionless as if someone had drained it from her.

“No way….”

“Which family is she from?”

“I think that’s Eliza Brooke.”

“Wait, as in the daughter of Margrave Renton Brooke?”

“Yeah, who would’ve thought….”

Everyone stopped talking when the ball glowed brighter for her than it did for me.

“33%,” Alphonse smiled, glancing at me.

After nodding silently, Eliza turned around and walked back, her black ponytail swaying as she avoided everyone’s gazes. It wasn’t out of pompousness or arrogance, as if we were all beneath her. It was just a strict ambivalence towards the world and everyone and everything in it.

I could respect that.

“Since you’ve depleted your meager mana reserves, we’re done for today,” Alphonse announced. “Be here tomorrow morning.”

Eliza walked away without speaking to anyone while everyone else, as was becoming customary, avoided my gaze after clicking their tongues and whispering.

I waited until I was alone to leave. However, when it was time, Alphonse appeared beside me with ghostly speed, and then I felt a sensation of my body falling before landing on solid ground. My environment had changed. I was now in another courtyard with no one around and the wizard looking at me in amusement.

“I find it amusing that everyone is spreading rumors of you being a demon lord when it’s easy to test, and the signs of your ignorance are obvious,” Alphonse chuckled.

“Such as?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Not knowing what a teleportation spell is,” he said. “Being unsure of a mana crystal. Genuine concern about other people's thoughts, if only because you don’t want to deal with the drama. Most of all, not knowing how to mask your presence. What hidden demon would walk around with such a thick mana aura?”

“Is it that obvious?” I sighed.

“Obvious enough to be considered as a princess’ suitor without a political alliance,” Alphonse smirked. “That might be normal if this was Ironfall, where only power matters, but not in Veridia.”

Princesses were valuable political tools. Imagine if Veridia married Rema to a prince in Ironfall to seal an alliance and establish land trade. If Ironfall broke their alliance and stole the land, no other kingdom would enter alliances with them. Who would trust their daughter to a backstabber? No one.

However, since I was already part of Veridia, there was no reason to make an alliance with me. That meant the king saw my potential and wanted me to work for the kingdom, or they saw me as a threat and allied with me to prevent me from harming them.

In essence, I was a one-man country to them. Quite the compliment.

It made me wonder if the unconventional suitor’s trial was to keep me in the kingdom under their watchful eyes for the next ten years without a promise of making me a prince.

‘I should thank Rema later,’ I internally sighed. ‘She was kind enough to make it sound like I had a choice when I really didn’t.’

Rema was conniving and manipulative at her age because she was prepared to be married off by thirteen for political reasons. In a way, she was in the same position as me—she didn’t have a choice. However, unlike me, she was prepared not to have a choice.

No wonder Rema was so blunt. She was a specialist.

“I see. So is this where you interrogate me?” I asked the wizard.

“Smart boy,” Alphonse replied. “What magic allowed you to kill that dire wolf and eliminate all traces of it?

‘I’m glad I had time to prepare for this question,’ I thought before explaining. “While there are heavy limitations, I have a power that makes non-living things I touch dissolve. May I see one of these wooden dummies?”

Alphonse’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “You may.”

I walked up to the dummy and chanted aloud, “Cellulose, hemicellulose, lignin,” I chanted, mentally adding the last part: 'Separate.'

To his disbelief, the wood began dissolving into a pile.

Then I rolled up my sleeve. “Cellulose, hemicellulose, lignin,” I chanted again, making the man panic. However, it was already too late. I touched my hand to my arm, and—nothing happened.

I looked up at him. “As you can see, it doesn’t work on living things, not even a living tree,” I explained. “However, I got lucky and touched its teeth. It’s one of two locations on a wolf that isn’t organic, the other being the claws.”

Alphonse’s eyes widened as he looked at the dissolved wood apprehensively. “You understand what your power means, and that’s why you’ve hidden it.”

“Yes,” I replied. “It means that if someone is strong but foolish enough to let me touch their teeth, they’ll need dentures. But as you can see, I’m rather short.”

I wiggled my five-year-old hands in the air, and the stunned man broke into laughter at the absurdity.

This was my strategy. I couldn’t get away with not disclosing my power. However, I presented my power as a non-threat and equally important—

“Is this how you obtained the mana cores?” Alphonse asked. “You touched the dead plants, and they dissolved, leaving them?”

I shook my head. “If I touch something non-living, it triggers a chain reaction that turns everything dead into dust, destroying the magic core,” I said. “Furthermore, it doesn’t work for everything non-living. However, it’s quite versatile.”

This was the other reason for my strategy—if people knew I could dissolve plants for mana cores, they’d make me a glorified tool.

I was weaving a narrative, and no one could contradict it. So long as I kept "separate" hidden, I could "chant" all day, and it wouldn't do anything.

“I see….” Alphonse pondered, scrutinizing my expressions. “That makes you a valuable strategic asset, as your power has unlimited applications. That said, having you close to people is also rather dangerous.”

“As opposed to burning people to a crisp like a normal mage?” I asked with a cheeky smile.

He frowned and then smiled. “When you put it like that, it is pretty absurd, isn’t it?”

“I believe so,” I replied.

“It seems I’ll have to teach you extra,” Alphonse noted. “So I want to see you here two hours before dawn.”

“Thank you for humbling me with your tutelage,” I said with a deep bow. After that, he gave me a dozen warnings about keeping the power hidden, reinforcing that irony has virtues, and then took me back to my room.

***

The next morning I started training with Alphonse.

“Arde fervide sicut stella et hostes sicut pestilentia debella,” I recited. A large fireball that singed my skin materialized from my hand before shooting across the courtyard, leaving a fiery orange explosion in the darkness.

Alphonse narrowed his eyes and turned towards me. “Are you lying about your knowledge of magic?” he asked, his voice harsh. “You even used the accent with pinpoint accuracy.”

‘If I don’t explain, I’ll be caught trying to make mistakes,’ I internally lamented. ‘I’m not good at lying, and this man will always be watching. So if I hide this, this shrewd man will kill me. I’m so sick of the ‘demon lord’ talk, it nauseates me.’

I didn’t have normal social skills, let alone adept skills capable of long-term lying. I longed for the day I turned eighteen when people would treat me like a normal genius.

After a deep sigh, I pointed at my head. “While it’s dwindling and has complexity limitations, I have a near-infallible memory,” I explained. “You can test it for anything. So please don’t kill me thinking I’m the demon lord.”

Alphonse’s eyes shifted to the left before he silent-cast a fire spell at me and watched me scream in agony as I rolled on the ground, trying to put out the magical flames clumsily. Assuring himself that I would, in fact, meet a horrifying death, he flicked his wrist, extinguishing the fire, and healed me in one motion.

“Didn’t you hear me?!” I yelled. “I’ll never forget this! I’ll die remembering—ack!”

The man kicked me in the ribs, sending me crashing into a stone wall without a second thought, then walked up to me as I wheezed in pain.

“You’ll remember this forever? Good.” Alphonse scoffed. “Remember this as the day you learned that people would treat you like a demon for the rest of your goddamn life. You may not be a demon, but you’re sure as hell not a normal kid. So stop blaming people for being rational. Sigh like that again, and someone will kill you.”

I wheezed, understanding his point. My built-up frustration about the constant demon lord talk had made me resentful and angry. But for everyone just meeting me, I was a five-year-old who talked like an adult, possessed powers in another language, and could recite magic effortlessly.

That said, even though I understood, I wouldn’t forget what had just happened. This was a trust issue that a forgiveness spell couldn’t resolve.

“I’ve also let you speak too casually,” Alphonse declared. “You’ll face this treatment your whole life here. So I suggest you learn here, unless you wish to take beatings everywhere you go.”

“Y-Yes… master….” I wheezed, suppressing my rage as he turned and walked away.

“You’re done for today,” he said. “I expect you to be able to recite that spell two weeks from now. Until then, practice mana circulation in your room without leaving.”

With those words, he disappeared.

***

Two weeks passed, practicing mana circulation, which allowed mages to conserve mana and increase the size and impact of their spells.

Only Thea came in to give me my meals and let me pet her cat ears as a stress reliever. After all, the orderly society where I was respected and loved for my unashamed manipulation was challenged by people I never wanted to be with, and I couldn’t get them out of my head. Now, I was reminded why I desperately wanted to rid myself of hyperthymesia. It was brutal.

However, Thea had never hurt me. She was a lifeline during that time, helping me overcome my emotions and learn to accept that Alphonse was trying to help me with tough love. I think.

In truth, I didn't know if he was acting out of tough love, trying to confirm his suspicions or both. That's what trust issues do to you. I guess only time will tell.

When it was finally time to return, I stood before the dummy after maintaining an absurd level of decorum. Then I recited the spell again with the exact same words as before, in the same accent: "Arde fervide sicut stella et hostes sicut pestilentia debella."

BOOM!

Alphonse frowned as he saw an even larger ball of fire explode on the dummy, proving that the mana circulation training was effective. However, that's not what bothered him. "We'll need a larger practice area until you can control your mana," he sighed. "If I hadn't recited the spell incorrectly, we might have provoked panic. At least your eerily perfect memory seems to check out."

"That was the wrong spell?" I asked, looking at the flames. "What does that mean?"

"It means the spell had incorrect words, though it was technically sufficient," Alphonse replied. "Your mana is too great. 100% is the level of archwizards, and the average amount for nobles is 2% or lower. You and Eliza have the mana of sages as children. If you weren't aristocrats, you'd be dead by now."

My eyes widened in horror, remembering my father, a margrave, personally executing a priest from the holy church. I hadn’t thought about that for a long time, but now it was front and center in my mind.

“Alright, let’s work on your spell compression,” Alphonse clapped. “I’m going to put you through so much rigorous training that no one will question why you’re so powerful. Let's get started.”

***

After training, I crashed face-first into a pillow, my entire body covered in welts from improper circulation and attitude issues. The maids were panicked, but I was too exhausted to care.

The next morning was the same. And the morning after that. And the one after that. An entire month passed until the maids got used to seeing me battered and treated me normally again.

I no longer attended practice with the suitors. Initially, news of my apprenticeship filled them with jealousy. However, when I walked through the training grounds beaten, singed, and bleeding like a zombie, they stopped questioning it. Instead, they snickered that no princess would want to marry someone so battered.

That was far better than them resenting my power and witnessing it. So I shrugged that off. Whether I became a prince or not, none of these people would be able to touch me soon.

After all, I was getting stronger by the day!

King Redfield knew about my memory, so he wouldn't let me into the royal library unless he sealed a real deal. I was bitter, but there was nothing I could do about it. Alphonse set me on fire under suspicion of being a demon, and my cognizance of the king's wariness grew by the day, so I was glad I didn’t try to hide it.

Still, the royal library wasn’t off the table, and I was learning high-level magic from the best. So, I could hardly claim I was getting a bad deal.

An entire year passed before the bruises became less frequent because my body healed too fast, and Master Gurrig taught me soul harvesting.

In Solstice, soul mana circulates through individuals' "spirit veins," eliminating impurities, combating diseases, and forestalling aging. Sufficient soul mana could potentially grant immortality and enhance physical resilience, among other benefits.

All creatures slowly accumulate soul mana, and predators gain more by consuming prey, though soul mana can also be extracted directly from deceased beings or artifacts, providing immediate gains. This process is termed soul harvesting.

Cultivating soul mana involves slaying a potent creature or acquiring a mana-rich artifact. Mages then use varying techniques to create a “soul core,” a generator that purifies the soul mana and circulates it through the body.

Remarkably, King Redfield bestowed an A-rank soul-harvesting technique and artifact upon me for saving his daughter, allowing the creation of a soul core worth millions of gold.

Now, I can literally murder my way to immortality. I don’t know how I feel about that.

Just kidding. It feels awesome.

I don’t even need to murder people. Today, Master Gurrig and I are on our way to begin hunting beasts for training and soul harvesting.

“What do you see?” Alphonse asked, walking through a forest with dark red trees that reached two hundred feet and ground covered in exotic flora and fauna that didn’t exist on Earth.

“I see a fire hazard,” I replied.

“Good,” he said. “If you must use fire magic, what must you do?”

“Create a barrier before using water magic,” I replied. “Steam is blinding, and it burns the eyes.”

“Why use water magic when it creates steam?” Alphonse pressed.

“The range is wide and it helps contain the fire,” I answered. “Moreover, magical fire is hotter than normal fire, so adding ice to it makes it explode.”

“When should you never use Earth magic?” he asked.

“On loose soil and near cliffs or unstable areas,” I answered. “It will cause rock slides, trigger earthquakes, or destroy the terrain.”

Alphonse nodded. “When do you break these rules?”

“When you have good judgment, foresight, and the skill to do so,” I replied. “Moreover, when you have absolutely no choice. Victory is the only thing that matters.”

“Good lad,” he replied.

I remained neutral at his slight smile. While I suspected I would forgive the man with time, emotions, and the forgiveness spell, that time wasn’t now. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to it, as he had protected me considerably, taught me well, and saved me from greater hell.

While I had many flaws, failing to respect those that treated me well wasn’t one of them.

Alphonse and I searched through the never-ending Crimsonwood Forest until we heard a deep growl. We stopped moving and analyzed the beast, listening to its breathing and studying its trajectory. “How will you kill it?” my master asked.

“A stone javelin to the lungs,” I replied without hesitation.

"Why?” he asked, frowning. He realized I had deviated from his usual training.

The answer was simple: practice for using rifles.

“Except for beasts with exterior armor-like skin or pelts,” I prefaced. “The skull is hard, and depending on the point of the brain you hit, a person or beast can still function or thrash around. However, piercing the lungs has immediate stopping power, affecting a beast’s ability to move or flee. Moreover, it’s a large target, triggers rapid blood loss, and leaves a blood trail.”

I cited all the reasons modern hunters aim just behind the shoulder for large game. It’s the same for deer, elk, caribou, bears, moose, goats, bighorn sheep, and every other large game in the world. I doubted there would be a difference in Solstice, where animals still had lungs.

“Well, let’s put your theory to the test,” Alphonse said, shrugging.

In the distance, we spotted a colossal bear. It stood 20 feet tall and weighed at least a ton, making it as heavy as a baby blue whale. Before we got near, I stopped and hid in a bush, causing him to frown again.

“Are you afraid of the bear?” Alphonse asked.

“No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I care about killing things, not about magic. Soon, this will be the standard way all fighting is conducted. You’ve asked me to lead the kill, so be quiet.”

Rifles.

My master took a deep breath, understanding I was right, and waited fifteen minutes for the bear to walk through the area. He was exasperated because the bear was still three hundred feet away! However, when I materialized a five-foot stone javelin and shot it a football field’s length through the forest—

THUD!

Alphonse’s jaw dropped when the twenty-foot Balkan Bear fell to the ground without the slightest struggle. It just… died. “That was absurd.”

‘Absurd? Wait until you see a fifty-caliber sniper rifle kill a sage with a headshot from a mile away,’ I smirked internally. ‘Try casting a fifth-tier spell at someone you can’t see!’

Magic is powerful and has advantages, but there are limits to what it can do.

“That’s it,” I confirmed. “Even if it’s still alive, it’ll die soon.”

My master frowned. “Don’t you think this is a bit….”

“Cowardly?” I smiled. “Not at all. I refuse to let my loved ones perish so I can fight up close with ‘honor.’ Especially when I’m not inciting problems to begin with.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Alphonse replied with a wry smile.

***

Training for the next month followed the same course until he made me face the beasts in the forest up close for actual training. Then I fought with my blade and magic, slaughtering dire wolves, Balkan bears, frost leopards, and massive spiders.

Alphonse taught me how to spot murder hornets, which were far more deadly here, tree frogs that attacked like poisonous bouncy balls, and swifters, a type of shrew.

One after the other, I proved that I could kill them with traps and modern gun techniques, then I fought them up close, honing my agility, strength, and dexterity. The goal was to mold me into a versatile killing machine—and he was successful.

By the end of the second year, I was already stronger than most of the court mages and guards in both magic and swordsmanship. By the end of the third, I was sparring with sages and knights.

Such was the power of learning from a royal wizard, a living strategic missile.

Everything changed in the fourth year. First, Alphonse had to stop teaching me because I had “noble duties” to attend to, including decorum, banquets, and dancing practice. True to their word, I spent six hours a day on that, far more than the other suitors.

It was logical. I would be hard to kill if I continued down my current trajectory, and I could learn new spells just by people firing them at me! So even trying to kill me was a serious hazard.

Therefore, the king wanted to seal an alliance before letting me continue. That didn’t bother me.

However, what did bother me was that the kingdom never gave me time to use my promised patent. As a result, I couldn’t manufacture soap. I sought an audience with the king during my training, and he promised a deferment of the patent and even said I could use any techniques that the nobles had developed.

Was King Redfield trying to exploit my technology and break his promise? No. He was genuinely deferring the patent. After all, if I got rich and powerful, I’d forsake the marriage. So he used my patent for leverage as well.

However, King Redfield’s perspective on deferring my soap-making operation changed on the day of my tenth birthday when an epidemic broke out in the kingdom.