The planet Macragge.
It's located at the extreme south of the Eastern Fringe of the galaxy, in the Ultima Segmentum.
This world possesses advanced technology, but it's also essentially desolate and rocky.
More than three-quarters of its territory consists of mountainous highlands, almost entirely devoid of life.
The inhabitants of this world prefer to stay in fortified cities rather than uselessly face the harshness of their planet.
Why is such a place suddenly being mentioned?
The explanation is simple...
"Young master Dean..."
An adolescent was observing the fortified city that the opening of his room offered him.
He had an above-average appearance, without being particularly handsome.
This individual simply stood out through his appearance.
Yet, he emanated a mysterious and fascinating atmosphere around him.
"Is there an important event?" asked an immature voice, betraying the real age of the adolescent who was contemplating the city.
Is he a mutant? No.
He's not an alien either.
His true identity is Johan, but he was renamed Dean Balvan at birth by the patriarch of House Balvan, aka his grandfather.
As for his parents... he doesn't know where his father is, and his mother was a former servant.
She could only access nobility through his very existence.
"Y-yes indeed... the patriarch would like to dine with you for your eighth birthday."
Dean glanced over his shoulder, then nodded toward the maid to dismiss her.
The chambermaid made a polite curtsy before leaving with quick steps.
It seemed she didn't want to stay any longer in the presence of this strange child.
Was it fear?
Surprisingly, no.
She simply felt under pressure because of the reputation and elusive aura that Dean involuntarily emanated.
By perfectly respecting noble ethics, he exudes remarkable presence and charisma.
"Being at the top of a generation is... lonely."
Dean Balvan.
The absolute genius of Macragge city.
He officially managed to express himself verbally a few months after his birth.
He assimilated all the academic and philosophical notions that electronic libraries and educational simulators could offer him.
Dean even surpassed the enlightened minds (Scholars) that his grandfather could bring for his education.
The only reason explaining his official passivity at present is his inability to evolve further, linked to his young age.
Dean can't yet put his knowledge into practice.
"AI chip... display my evolution."
[Beep! Dean Balvan, level 2 acolyte / knight.
Strength: 2.2, Agility: 2.4, Vitality: 3.0, Spiritual Force: 4.1, Warp Sensitivity ???: unknown, Magic Power: 4 – Magic power synchronized with spiritual force.
Status: Healthy.]
[Skills: Cross Blade Technique, Potioneering, Mechanic, Apothecary.]
[Spells:
Shapeshifting: rank 0 spell. Casting time: 2 seconds. Effective range: self. Consumption: 3 magic power, 3 spiritual force.
Acid Aqua Shot: rank 0 spell. Casting time: 3 seconds. Effective range: 7 meters. Consumption: 2 spiritual force, 2 magic power.
Umbra Hand: rank 0 spell. Casting time: 4 seconds. Effective range: 10 meters. Consumption: 2 spiritual force, 2 magic power.]
Looking at his personal information, an imperceptible smile slowly formed on Dean's youthful face.
He had worked hard, ever since the AI chip had allowed him to use a meditation method to begin his path into the supernatural.
Because of his young age, he had started cultivating at six years old, without real external assistance.
Dean could have even started later if he hadn't trained his body thanks to the Farlier family's breathing technique.
"If I keep this up, I'll be able to reach my goal before Roboute Guilliman arrives."
Roboute Guilliman.
The future hope of mankind during the 42k era.
Dean has a good impression of this character from the Warhammer 40k universe, but he doesn't plan to be subjected to anyone in this life.
As for the Emperor? He'll end up stuck without his help, so he's not too worried.
For now, Dean wants to take control of the planet.
A crazy ambition, but he was counting on achieving it through his personal strength and the people's support.
...
"You finally deigned to leave your room."
After dressing properly, Dean finally left his room to join his only relative within their dwelling: patriarch Adam Balvan.
"I'd still be there if grandfather hadn't requested my presence so explicitly," he replied politely while taking his seat.
"Haha, you're not wrong."
Dean's grandfather's tone had never been completely severe toward him, since his arrival in this reality.
Dean could have even said that Adam Balvan is a gentle man, if he hadn't observed the large number of slaves under his governance.
After a brief exchange of words, the servants hurried to present him with his meal: meat from a species similar to chicken, brought to Macragge by the first human colonists.
With an elegant gesture, Dean began his tasting, having noticed that his grandfather wouldn't initiate the main subject until the end of the meal.
[Analysis complete: a substance containing beneficial properties for the host's body has been detected!]
[Vitality increased by 0.001]
Dean's eyes shone with a satisfied gleam after ingesting this unknown matter.
He mentally ordered his AI chip to archive the information for a future discussion with a servant, before turning his attention back to his grandfather.
"Should I leave? Or do you have other desires than my presence in this place?" he said in a calm voice, though hiding an impatience he was trying to conceal.
An element that his grandfather noticed without difficulty, but pretended to ignore.
"You're really a shut-in, my boy... *sigh*" declared old Adam, after listening to Dean's words.
Of course, this sigh was a fake sigh of fatigue.
The old man liked to tease his grandson.
Unfortunately, he was only met with a neutral facial expression as a response to his little act.
"*Cough* I'd like you to accompany me soon on a hunting party." After coughing lightly to regain some semblance of nobility, the old man got to the heart of the matter.
The hunt.
It's an activity that certain people favor as a pastime... officially at least.
In reality, it's a means that aristocrats often use to exchange information away from prying eyes.
An aspect of noble society that Dean had understood thanks to his mentor, during ethics lessons.
Of course, there are also real hunts without ulterior motives.
Thus, nobles don't remain ignorant regarding crucial information, but can't always know if a hunt is a secret meeting or leisure.
It's a bit like having a meeting about a serious subject, but the people involved use a ridiculous excuse in front of the servants.
A way to fool spies.
'Nobles are really cunning.'
Dean drank some water while quickly analyzing the situation his grandfather was presenting to him.
"Do I have a choice?" he decided to test the waters with this sentence.
"... Y-yes, but it would potentially be a shame for your birthday gift."
'So, I don't have one...'