Five years had passed since the birth of the Dead Prince.
Five years since a child who had supposedly never been born had opened his yellow-and-blue eyes.
Five years since the Augusta family had welcomed the strangest prince in its history.
By the age of five, Nihil had already begun to demonstrate something that even the imperial tutors found difficult to explain.
He was not merely talented.
He was not merely intelligent.
He was a prodigy.
A child who seemed to understand almost everything the moment it was placed before him.
And unlike most prodigies, Nihil never appeared proud of it.
He simply learned.
THE PRINCE’S TERRITORY
When Nihil reached five years old, Emperor Aurelius Augusta granted his youngest son his own territory.
It was part of the Augustus Empire, not an independent kingdom, but it was large enough to contain a manor, gardens, training grounds, farmland, servants’ quarters, and a small surrounding settlement.
At the center stood Nihil’s new residence.
A magnificent white-stone manor surrounded by tall walls and blue-and-silver banners.
The gates opened.
A line of servants stood waiting.
At the front stood Gideon, his head butler.
Beside him was Hanna, the head maid.
His personal physician, Dr.
Alistair, stood farther behind them.
And beside Nihil was the person who had remained with him since childhood.
Elyandra Vaelith.
Former Archbishop.
High elf.
Tutor.
Caretaker.
Gideon stepped forward and bowed.
“Welcome to your manor, Your Highness.”
Nihil looked around.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t express excitement.
He simply observed.
The architecture.
The guards.
The servants.
The surrounding grounds.
The entrances.
The exits.
The distance between buildings.
Everything.
After several seconds, he nodded.
“Thank you.”
That was all.
Gideon slowly raised his head.
The boy had barely looked at the manor.
Hanna leaned slightly toward Elyandra and whispered:
“He’s not excited?”
Elyandra heard her.
“He rarely expresses excitement.”
Nihil continued walking.
His eyes briefly passed over the library.
Elyandra noticed.
But she said nothing.
She already knew what would happen eventually.
THE DAILY EDUCATION OF A PRINCE
Nihil’s new life was carefully organized.
Every hour had a purpose.
Every teacher had a responsibility.
Every lesson was intended to prepare him for the future.
And every morning began before sunrise.
Elyandra entered his room.
“Nihil.”
The boy opened his eyes immediately.
He was already awake.
Elyandra paused.
“You were awake?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty-three minutes.”
She stared at him.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were sleeping.”
Elyandra sighed.
“Very well.
Get dressed.”
Nihil stood.
“Of course.”
There was no complaint.
No demand for more sleep.
No childish protest.
He simply followed the schedule.
THE SWORDMASTER
Before breakfast came swordsmanship.
Nihil entered the training hall.
His swordmaster waited for him.
The man had spent decades fighting on battlefields.
He had trained countless knights.
He bowed.
“Your Highness.”
Nihil returned the bow perfectly.
“Good morning.”
The swordmaster handed him a wooden sword.
“Today we will continue your footwork.”
Nihil nodded.
The instructor demonstrated a basic movement.
“Observe carefully.”
Nihil watched.
The swordmaster demonstrated it once.
“Now you.”
Nihil copied the movement.
Perfectly.
The swordmaster’s expression changed slightly.
“Again.”
Nihil repeated it.
Exactly.
“Again.”
Perfect.
The swordmaster changed the angle.
Nihil adapted immediately.
He changed the rhythm.
Nihil adapted.
He changed the distance.
Nihil adapted.
Finally, the swordmaster stepped backward.
“Attack me.”
Nihil raised his wooden sword.
The instructor expected a basic attack.
Instead, Nihil moved.
The wooden blade stopped against the swordmaster’s shoulder.
Silence.
The swordmaster stared at him.
Nihil lowered the sword.
“Was that sufficient?”
The swordmaster slowly nodded.
“Again.”
They continued.
Minutes passed.
The swordmaster increased the difficulty.
Nihil continued adapting.
Eventually, the teacher found himself defending instead of teaching.
A five-year-old child was forcing an experienced swordsman to react.
The swordmaster finally stopped.
“Your Highness.”
Nihil looked at him.
“I believe there is little more I can teach you at this level.”
Nihil nodded.
“Then teach me a higher level.”
The swordmaster stared.
Nihil wasn’t boasting.
He wasn’t challenging him.
He was simply stating the logical conclusion.
The swordmaster smiled.
“Very well.”
And the lesson continued.
BREAKFAST
After sword training came breakfast.
Hanna carefully arranged the table.
Nihil sat down.
He didn’t reach for anything until everyone who needed to be served had been served.
His dining instructor watched from nearby.
“Napkin.”
Nihil placed it correctly.
“Utensils.”
He selected the correct ones.
“Tea.”
He waited.
“Conversation.”
He knew when to speak.
He knew when to remain silent.
He knew how to address servants.
He knew how to address nobles.
He knew how to respond to a compliment.
He knew how to politely refuse something.
The instructor eventually stopped giving instructions.
Nihil continued eating.
Perfect posture.
Perfect movements.
Perfect etiquette.
The teacher looked at Elyandra.
“Who taught him this?”
Elyandra answered honestly.
“I did.”
“How long?”
“Three lessons.”
The instructor stared at Nihil.
“Three?”
Elyandra nodded.
Nihil continued drinking his tea.
He showed no reaction to their conversation.
LANGUAGES
After breakfast came languages.
His language tutor placed several books on the table.
“Today we will continue with the demon language.”
Nihil nodded.
The tutor began teaching.
He explained pronunciation.
Grammar.
Formal expressions.
Noble vocabulary.
Diplomatic language.
Nihil listened.
The teacher continued.
Then Nihil spoke.
Flawlessly.
The tutor stopped.
“Again.”
Nihil repeated it.
Perfectly.
The tutor opened another section.
“This dialect is considerably more difficult.”
Nihil read it.
Then translated it.
The teacher stared at him.
“You have never studied this dialect.”
“No.”
“Then how did you translate it?”
“The structure is similar.”
The teacher remained silent.
Nihil turned the page.
“Should we continue?”
The tutor slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
DANCE
Later came dancing.
Nihil stood in the ballroom.
His dance instructor demonstrated a complicated sequence.
“Observe.”
Nihil watched.
Once.
Twice.
The instructor stopped.
“Your turn.”
Nihil moved.
Step.
Turn.
Pause.
Step.
Rotation.
Perfect.
The instructor blinked.
“Again.”
Nihil repeated it.
“With the second variation.”
He did.
The instructor tried to correct his posture.
There was nothing to correct.
She tried his foot placement.
Perfect.
His timing.
Perfect.
His balance.
Perfect.
Finally, she asked:
“Have you danced before?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Nihil looked at her.
“You showed me.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or be disturbed.
POLITICS
The political instructor gave Nihil a hypothetical situation.
“Your Highness, imagine a duke refuses to support an imperial treaty.”
Nihil listened.
“What would you do?”
Nihil considered the situation.
“I would first determine why.”
“Suppose he claims the treaty harms his territory.”
“Then determine whether he believes that or merely wants a stronger position.”
The teacher nodded.
“And if he refuses to cooperate?”
“Offer him something he values.”
“What if he rejects that?”
“Then determine what he fears losing.”
The teacher became quiet.
“And if he has nothing to lose?”
Nihil looked at him.
“Then negotiations are already over.”
The teacher stared.
“Why?”
“Because there is no reason for him to compromise.”
Nihil returned to his book.
“Then another method is required.”
The instructor smiled.
“You’re five years old.”
Nihil looked up.
“Yes.”
“And you already understand political leverage.”
“I understand the situation.”
That answer stayed with the teacher for a long time.
MILITARY LAW
The lessons became increasingly advanced.
Military law.
Imperial law.
International law.
Treaties.
Border agreements.
Rules of war.
Political structures.
The teacher would explain a principle.
Nihil would remember it.
Then he would sometimes identify a contradiction within it.
One instructor presented an old military law.
“This rule has governed Augustus warfare for generations.”
Nihil read it.
“There is an exception.”
The instructor frowned.
“There is not.”
Nihil pointed toward the page.
“Section fourteen.”
The teacher checked.
Silence.
Nihil was correct.
The instructor looked embarrassed.
Nihil didn’t react.
He simply turned the page.
“Continue.”
THE HIDDEN EDUCATION
But even with all those lessons, Nihil knew there were subjects his tutors weren’t teaching him yet.
Magic.
Ancient history.
Advanced Genesis theory.
The origins of the races.
The gods.
The immortals.
The ancient wars.
The Orbit System.
Forbidden records.
So Nihil found another teacher.
Books.
At night, when the manor became silent, he would leave his room.
He walked through the corridors without making a sound.
He entered the library.
And began reading.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him what to study.
He selected books himself.
One night he studied the foundations of magic.
Another night, ancient human civilizations.
Another night, demon history.
Another, dragon territories.
He read about wars.
He read about rulers.
He read about heroes.
He read contradictory historical accounts.
And whenever two books disagreed, Nihil didn’t immediately choose one.
He read both.
Then searched for another.
And another.
He wasn’t searching for the most popular answer.
He was searching for the truth.
One night, Elyandra entered the library.
She found Nihil sitting alone beneath a lamp.
A massive book was open before him.
She looked at the title.
“That’s supposed to be taught to you when you’re older.”
Nihil didn’t look up.
“I know.”
“Then why are you reading it?”
“Because it exists.”
Elyandra stared at him.
“That’s your reason?”
“Yes.”
She walked closer.
“What are you looking for?”
Nihil turned another page.
“Knowledge.”
Elyandra smiled faintly.
“You already know more than most children your age.”
Nihil looked at her.
“Then I should learn something they don’t know.”
Elyandra didn’t answer.
She simply watched him continue reading.
THE CITY
Eventually, however, Nihil wanted to see something beyond his manor.
He didn’t announce his intention.
He didn’t ask permission.
He simply left.
No dramatic escape.
No rebellion.
He walked through the gates.
The guards didn’t realize immediately.
Nihil entered the streets.
The capital was alive.
Merchants.
Children.
Knights.
Adventurers.
Workers.
Nobles.
He walked among them silently.
Nobody recognized him.
For once, nobody bowed.
Nobody called him prince.
He simply observed.
Then he heard music.
A bard stood in the center of a crowd.
His song was bright.
It spoke about the future.
A future filled with peace.
A future where children would grow beneath clear skies.
A future where humanity would overcome every war.
The crowd listened happily.
When the song ended, everyone applauded.
Nihil applauded too.
Then he spoke.
“You sing about a future you have never seen.”
The bard looked at him.
Nihil’s expression remained completely emotionless.
“How can you know it will be wonderful?”
The bard didn’t answer.
Nihil continued.
“Perhaps you will not survive the next era.”
The crowd became quiet.
There was no hatred in Nihil’s voice.
No cruelty.
No attempt to frighten anyone.
He had simply stated a possibility.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Nihil turned.
Elyandra Vaelith.
She smiled.
It was a terrifying smile.
“My lord.”
Nihil looked at her.
“Leaving your manor without informing anyone is careless.”
“Yes.”
“And not particularly noble.”
“Agreed.”
Elyandra’s smile widened.
“I suppose I will have to punish you.”
Nihil nodded.
“That is appropriate.”
She stared at him.
No argument.
No excuse.
No attempt to escape.
“You aren’t going to protest?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I made the decision.”
Nihil looked toward the street.
“Therefore, I accept its consequences.”
Elyandra’s expression softened.
Nihil continued.
“I want freedom.”
She listened.
“But freedom does not mean freedom from responsibility.”
Elyandra said nothing.
“I will accept punishment for my own actions.”
Nihil’s eyes remained calm.
“But I will not accept responsibility for another person’s actions.”
Elyandra finally smiled normally.
“Come home.”
Nihil nodded.
“Of course.”
BACK TO THE LIBRARY
That night, Nihil returned to the manor.
His punishment was accepted without complaint.
Later, he returned to his library.
Elyandra stood at the doorway.
She watched him open another ancient book.
“Nihil.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“You surpassed your swordmaster today.”
Nihil said nothing.
“You mastered three new languages.”
Silence.
“You completed an advanced political exercise.”
Silence.
“You identified an error in military law.”
Nihil turned a page.
Elyandra smiled.
“Does any of that make you proud?”
Nihil stopped reading.
He thought about the question.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I learned.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
He looked back toward the book.
“If I know something, I know it.”
Elyandra stared at him.
“And if you don’t?”
“I learn it.”
There was no arrogance.
No pride.
No excitement.
Just certainty.
Elyandra finally understood something.
Nihil didn’t see himself as a genius.
He didn’t see himself as a prodigy.
He didn’t see himself as superior.
Those were simply descriptions other people placed upon him.
To Nihil, learning was as natural as breathing.
He didn’t need praise.
He didn’t need rewards.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him he was special.
He simply continued.
Page after page.
Book after book.
Lesson after lesson.
And the more he learned…
The less anyone seemed capable of teaching him.
The ancient library became silent.
The curious student slowly lowered the book.
His tired companion stared at him.
“He was five.”
“Yes.”
“He surpassed his teachers at five.”
“Apparently.”
The tired student rubbed his forehead.
“That’s not a prodigy.”
The curious student looked at him.
“Then what is it?”
The tired student stared at the portrait of young Nihil.
“I don’t know.”
The curious student turned the page.
A final sentence waited beneath the chapter.
At five years old, Nihil had already surpassed most of the teachers assigned to educate him.
The curious student paused.
Then smiled.
“And he hadn’t even started learning everything.”
The tired student looked toward the shelves.
“That’s the part I don’t like.”
“What?”
“If this is only the beginning…”
He pointed toward the enormous collection of books.
“…how far does this child eventually go?”
The curious student didn’t answer.
He simply opened the next chapter.
And for the first time, neither student was tired.
They wanted to know.
Because the story of the Dead Prince had stopped looking like the story of a normal royal heir.
It was becoming the story of something else.
Something the history books themselves seemed unable to define.
And Nihil was still only five.