Five years passed quietly, almost suspiciously so.
To Damyan, the time felt less like childhood and more like a long, inconvenient waiting period. He wasn't a normal child anyway; his mind remained that of a tired, middle-aged assassin trapped inside a growing demon body. The only things that had changed were his size and the fact that speech finally matched his intentions.
He sat on the balcony railing of his personal palace, yes, personal palace, swinging his legs lazily. Even at five, his posture looked too composed, too relaxed, like someone who had paid taxes for decades.
This entire mini-palace was built just for him, the Crown Prince, and the royal treasury sent funds every month to maintain it. Lucian's obsessive accounting meant most of that money piled up untouched.
Damyan didn't know whether to be impressed by that man's diligence or suspicious of his long-term ambitions. Probably both.
His red eyes scanned the distant palace grounds. Everything looked normal enough: guards patrolling, servants carrying baskets, distant towers glimmering in sunlight. However, he wasn't fooled.
Plenty happened in five years.
He had grown, observed, and memorized everything around him.
He understood the demon tongue now, perfectly.
Intellectus had awakened years earlier, sharpening his comprehension to the point that eavesdropping had become a daily hobby.
"And of course, the damn dreams kept coming."
Violent visions. Blood. Shadows. A towering figure raising armies. A hand reaching toward a collapsing world.
He didn't pretend to understand any of it, but from those chaotic flashes, something had crystallized inside him.
A technique.
Not a spell, not magic, but something older, deeper, instinctive.
Pactum Dominus.
The name alone made his spine tighten whenever it echoed in the dream.
He had never used it, never tested it, but he felt it like a predator curled up in his bones, waiting for him to command it.
"What a wonderful gift," he muttered dryly. "A mysterious technique I can't activate, dreams filled with murder, and the constant risk of being assassinated. Truly a blessed childhood."
Magic was another matter. He could use it, of course he could. His body responded to mana just fine. Spells obeyed him effortlessly.
But thanks to the System's glitch, nothing about his power could be sensed from the outside.
To the world, he was a child with no mana presence. A demon with no visible magic. A walking joke.
Damyan smirked faintly as he watched two servants gossiping below the balcony.
"Perfect. Let them think that way."
The less dangerous he appeared, the more breathing room he had.
And after nearly being strangled the moment he was born, he would take every advantage he could get.
He leaned back slightly, balancing on the railing without fear.
"Five years in this world," he whispered. "Still alive. Still hunted. Still stuck with that malfunctioning System."
The System did not reply.
"Figures," he said. "Even ignoring me properly now."
He hopped down lightly from the railing, landing with the grace of someone who did not move like a five-year-old should. He stretched once, cracked his neck, and exhaled.
"Alright. Let's see what else this cursed kingdom is hiding today."
Damyan wandered through the long hallway of his small palace, the soft red carpet muffling his steps. Servants bowed as he passed. Some smiled politely. Some looked nervous. Some whispered when they thought he wasn't listening.
He heard all of it.
"Prince… weak… strange…"
"Lord Lucian works too hard… poor man…"
"How can a prince have no magic presence?"
Damyan rubbed his temple.
"My hearing gets better every year. Lucky me."
He pushed open the door to the main lounge, a wide room filled with sunlight and decorated to look "child-friendly," whatever that meant to demons. Toys he never touched, pillows he never used, books he'd already finished reading twice.
Lucian was sitting on the couch, flipping through a stack of documents while drinking tea. There was a plate of sliced red fruits beside him.
Lucian didn't look up.
"I heard you walking halfway across the hall," he said, voice smooth and calm. "Too light on your feet for a child. Suspicious as always."
"You could just say good morning," Damyan muttered.
"I could," Lucian agreed, eyes still on the paper. "But that would be out of character, wouldn't it?"
Damyan rolled his eyes. "You're working again. When do you sleep?"
"Sleep?" Lucian raised an eyebrow. "That is a luxury, Prince. Your palace needs management. Your funds need sorting. Your daily schedule must be stable. And someone has to make sure your meals don't get poisoned."
"Right. Because I'm just so popular."
Lucian finally looked at him. Those blue eyes, soft but too sharp, scanned Damyan from head to toe.
"You look tired," Lucian observed.
"You look overworked," Damyan shot back.
Lucian smirked softly. "Fair."
For a moment, the room felt peaceful.
But then Damyan frowned.
"…Lucian."
"Yes?"
"What's going on in the kingdom?"
Lucian paused; the smallest freeze, barely noticeable unless someone was watching closely. Damyan was watching closely.
"Strange things," Lucian answered, voice steady but lower. "Tensions are rising. Certain nobles have started gathering frequently. Some movements feel coordinated."
Damyan tilted his head. "Assassins?"
"No," Lucian said. "Not yet. But rebellion, that is possible."
Damyan's tongue clicked softly. "Troublesome."
Lucian's eyes flickered. "You should remain inside your palace at all times. I'll handle the rest."
"You always handle the rest."
"That's my job," Lucian replied.
Damyan stared. Lucian stared back.
Neither trusted the other completely, but both were too intelligent to say it aloud.
Suddenly:
"Prince."
One of the maids rushed in, bowing deeply.
"The palace has made an announcement. There will be a Magic Evaluation next week."
Damyan blinked once.
"Oh good. This again."
Lucian sighed. "It is required. Every child of noble or royal blood must display their magic presence at age five. The court wants to confirm you haven't developed abnormalities."
Damyan's eyebrow twitched. "Abnormalities. That's a fun word."
Lucian gave him a very flat stare. "Considering how quiet, calm, and unnervingly observant you are, they aren't wrong to check."
Damyan ignored that completely.
"They're expecting to see something impressive," Lucian continued. "You are the Crown Prince, after all."
Damyan let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Then they're in for a massive disappointment."
Lucian's expression softened, just a fraction. "Do you plan on showing anything?"
"No," Damyan said simply. "If they think I have no magic, they stop treating me like a threat. Less attention. Less pressure to kill me."
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't disagree.
Damyan stretched his arms and walked toward the balcony doors again.
"So next week," he said dryly, "the entire kingdom is going to witness the most pathetic magic presence ever recorded. A demon with no visible magic."
Lucian sighed. "They will talk."
"They already talk," Damyan reminded him. "Let them."
He opened the balcony door and looked at the bright sky outside.
Behind him, the System flickered faintly for the first time that morning.
[System: Observation. Host seems unusually calm despite incoming humiliation.]
"Calm?" Damyan muttered. "This is strategy. If they think I'm harmless, they won't bother killing me yet. That's called survival."
The System paused.
[System: …Understood.]
Damyan smirked. "Good. You're learning something at least."
Lucian's voice broke the moment.
"Prince," he called out lightly, "try not to cause trouble before the evaluation."
Damyan raised a hand lazily.
"No promises."
He stared out over the palace grounds.
Next week, the entire Veridian Kingdom would laugh at him.
Good.
Let them.
"It's easier to destroy expectations," he murmured, "than to live up to them."
The week passed quickly—and loudly.
Everywhere Damyan went, the whispers followed him like a bad smell. He couldn't walk ten feet without hearing some maid or guard questioning his "defectiveness."
Seeking a moment of actual peace, Damyan pushed open the heavy oak doors to Lucian's study. He found the man exactly where he expected: buried behind a fortress of account ledgers and supply lists.
Damyan hopped onto a guest chair and rubbed his temples. "Five years old and I already want silence as a birthday gift," he muttered.
Lucian's pen didn't stop moving. He continued writing with the mechanical efficiency of ten men. "The world is rarely quiet for a Crown Prince, however 'defective' the public thinks he is."
"Do all butlers work this much?" Damyan asked, watching the man's blurred hands. "Or are you just bucking for a promotion?"
"No," Lucian replied flatly, finally setting his pen down. He pinned Damyan with a sharp, tired look. "Only the ones assigned to problematic children."
Damyan raised an eyebrow. "Problematic?"
"Children who hide their magic, sneak through ventilation shafts, and stare at visiting nobles like they're planning a massacre," Lucian listed, ticking them off on his fingers. "Yes, Prince, you are the definition of problematic."
Damyan leaned back, crossing his small arms. "…Okay, fair."
But the days of hiding in the study eventually ran out, and the morning of the evaluation finally came.
A massive courtyard had been set up with shimmering magical formations, crystals arranged in a long line, and officials from the royal court standing stiffly beside them.
Parents and nobles gathered with their children. Some looked proud. Some looked nervous. Some stared at Damyan with open disdain.
"There he is… the Prince."
"The one with no magic?"
"What a joke."
Damyan walked calmly, ignoring every word.
Lucian followed behind him like a shadow, composed, unreadable, perfectly elegant.
"Prince," he murmured quietly, "if you are going to embarrass yourself, at least do it gracefully."
Damyan shot him a flat look. "I'll try to trip at the right angle."
Lucian sighed. "Please don't."
The evaluator, an elderly demon with pale horns and a very judgmental expression, raised his voice.
"We will now begin the assessment. Each child will place their hand on the mana crystal. The crystal will react, displaying color and brightness according to their magical capacity."
Demons cheered as the first noble child stepped forward.
A bright green glow.
"Ooh! Nature affinity!"
Then another child.
A deep red glow.
"Fire! Impressive!"
Child after child stepped forward, each reaction met with applause or polite nods.
Finally, the evaluator called out:
"Crown Prince Damyan. Step forward."
The courtyard fell silent.
Every eye turned to him.
Some eyes pitied him. Some mocked him. Some eagerly waited for a failure they could gossip about for years.
Lucian's voice murmured behind him, low enough that only Damyan heard:
"…Don't kill anyone."
"No promises," Damyan muttered.
He stepped up to the crystal. Placed his small hand on its smooth surface. Waited.
Seconds passed.
Nothing.
Not a flicker. Not a glow. Not even a pathetic spark.
Dead silence spread across the courtyard.
The evaluator cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ahem… it seems the Crown Prince lacks detectable magical presence."
Whispers erupted instantly.
"Pathetic!"
"Even commoners' children have magic!"
"How can he be the future king?"
"A demon… with no magic… laughable."
Damyan stared at the crystal with zero embarrassment.
If anything, he was bored.
"…Huh. It really worked," he muttered.
The System flickered weakly.
[System: Due to malfunction, Host's mana flow is undetectable to external sensing.]
"Good job being broken for once," Damyan whispered internally.
[System: …]
Lucian stepped forward, placing a protective hand in front of Damyan as the nobles' murmurs grew louder.
His voice became smooth and calm, but there was steel under it.
"Step back," he said softly to the crowd. "That will be all for today."
The evaluator bowed stiffly, and the ceremony quickly moved on as if nothing embarrassing had happened.
Damyan walked away, entirely unbothered.
Lucian followed, expression unreadable, tension hiding beneath the surface.
Once they reached a quieter hallway, Lucian finally spoke.
"Normal children would be crying right now."
Damyan shrugged. "Why would I?"
"You were humiliated in front of the entire noble class."
"Not humiliated," Damyan corrected. "Strategically underestimated."
Lucian blinked.
Damyan smirked.
"No one tries to assassinate a harmless idiot. And if they underestimate me, they'll attack with the confidence of fools."
Lucian stared at him.
"…Prince."
"Yes?"
"You are five."
"I am also tired."
Lucian closed his eyes briefly. "…Of course."
He walked ahead, face calm again.
Damyan followed behind, hands in pockets, rolling his shoulders casually.
His mind drifted to the whispers earlier.
No magic.
Weak.
Laughable.
Defective.
He let out a small breath.
"Let them think that."
He raised his eyes slowly.
The palace ceiling glimmered above him.
"And when the time comes…"
A faint, dark smile tugged at his lips.
"I will make this kingdom kneel."
Behind him, unfelt by anyone else, the System flickered with three quiet words:
[System: Survival chance… unchanged.]
[System: Current value – 3%.]