All my life, I lived in a struggle for power. The world I knew was a true dystopia. The planet was split between two superpowers locked in perpetual war. Endless bombings, executions, repression, propaganda. Everything revolved around two men — the leaders of those nations — each obsessed with absolute control over everything and everyone. Ordinary people were no different. Every civilian, soldier, and general thought only of climbing higher in the authoritarian hierarchy, pecking at those beside them and tormenting those beneath.
But I survived. With a clear mind, calm composure, willpower, diligence, ambition — and, in the end, pride, cunning, cynicism, and selfishness — I carved my way to the position of chief adviser to the dictator of one of those states.
I was the perfect servant for him: not too strong, not too weak. I oversaw propaganda, signed execution orders, manipulated and fought — all to survive and live better. I sent millions of naive boys to certain death. Approved repressions against the regime's enemies. Orchestrated revolutions where and when it suited me. Orchestrated the genocide of entire nations. With my own hands, I killed not that many people — a few hundred, no more. But indirectly, I killed by the millions. My name was known to all — and the entire planet feared it.
And when my nation finally conquered the other and seized the whole planet, the purges began. They took me to a small grove, blindfolded me, and put a bullet in my head.
It was a smart move on his part. There was no reason to keep a witness to all his crimes. Especially since I had been in power too long and could pose a threat to him.
Do I regret what I did? No. I did what I had to in order to survive. Any longing for vitrue had been beaten out of me long ago. But unlike others, I fully understand and acknowledge the evil I committed. I don't need excuses when I weave intrigues against my commander while smiling in his face; or when I shift the blame for a battlefield failure onto someone else, knowing they'll be executed for it. A man must accept reality as it is — especially the truth about himself.
Now, as darkness closes in, before I descend to hell, I ask God for only one thing — to show me a world where things could be different. I want to see if there can be worlds where virtuousness triumphs over evil, and truth over deceit.
---
Servant: Look, look. He smiled. Ah! How cute he is!
My vision slowly cleared, and I vaguely made out faces of people speaking and smiling. Above them, I noticed a white ceiling painted with stars and ornaments, and beside me — a woman, radiating warmth.
It seemed they had moved me closer to her. She was drenched in sweat and exhausted, with silver-white hair tinged faintly with violet, and blue eyes. I appeared to be lying on a bed. I was turned face-up again, and saw I was in a wide room where two young maids in black-and-white uniforms bustled about, along with a man in a white coat.
Me, thinking: What's going on? Where am I?
I looked at my hands — now tiny, like those of an infant. No... I was an infant. No... You've got to be kidding me. I've been reborn? Is this a dream? A hallucination? Or am I already in hell, with the Devil toying with my mind?
Volodymyr: Lada! Where is he?
The silver-haired woman turned toward the voice and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man with thick black hair and a neatly trimmed beard.
Lada: Come here. Here he is.
The man approached me, smiling as he examined me. He was stylishly dressed — in a light shirt adorned with lavish golden patterns. It looked like a blend between clothing from my world and Renaissance noble attire.
Volodymyr: Well, hello there, coochie-coo, — he said, wiggling his finger around me. — What do you think of the current maids? If you want my advice, go for the one with the dark-gray hair.
Lada smacked his shoulder.
Lada: Idiot, shut up! He's just a baby. Look at this little angel, — she said tiredly, gazing at me.
Volodymyr: Ha-ha! I'm kidding, — he leaned toward the woman and kissed her forehead. — I love you.
Lada: Yeah. He's so adorable.
Me, thinking: Thank you. I know.
Too bad I can't speak — otherwise I'd tell her.
Volodymyr: Of course he's adorable. He takes after me, — my father said, lifting his head proudly.
Lada: He's going to be the finest boy on earth, — she said, stroking my head.
Me, thinking: Don't touch me, woman. Do you know how many cheerful, naive ones like you I've destroyed in my life? And what's that shouting?
I listened closely and realized — it was me crying, loud and sharp. So even though I'm in this body, I can't fully control it. I'll have to learn all over again.
Lada: What's wrong? Come here.
She leaned down, kissed my forehead softly — and I immediately calmed down. Humiliating as it was, I'd been through far worse. Once, I was tied to a post, stripped, and pelted with the severed remains of my comrades. Compared to that, this place seems just awesome.
But what is this place? Where have I ended up?
---
In short — I really had been reborn in another world. It resembled a strange blend of my own world's Renaissance era and modern technology — but with advancements only in the field of information exchange. Computers, smartphones, and other data-processing electronics existed here, but they ran not on electricity, but on mana — a special resource used as an energy source in this world. In every other area, this world lagged far behind mine. There were no cars, no trains, no firearms. Yet there were video games, the internet, websites, and similar amusements.
I learned all this within my first days here, surrounded by an endless assortment of toys, servants, baby clothes, and other luxuries. The servants called my mother "Your Majesty", the city I lived in "Kyiv", and the country "Rus'." The names meant nothing to me — in my world, such places and countries didn't exist — but the phrase "Your Majesty" was familiar. It seemed I was the son of a royal family, living in a vast palace whose structure I couldn't even begin to comprehend for a long time. The rooms, halls, and corridors were countless, and my freedom to move around was minimal, so there was much I simply couldn't learn.
From the very start, I understood the language these people spoke, though I couldn't read. When I learned to walk, I began signaling my interest in smartphones. My main goal was access to the internet, but since I couldn't read, it wasn't very useful. Fortunately, my mother and the servants understood my interest — vaguely, but enough — and began to teach me. I acted subtly, continuing to play the role of an ordinary child. Who knew what traditions this world might have for someone like me?
The years passed, and I gradually grew accustomed to my new reality — even enough to relax. No one tried to poison me at lunch, no one fired rockets into my bedroom, no one schemed against me in the political arena. Several years of childhood passed without a single attempt on my life. Not even once! What did these people do all day? What a dull existence...
Part of me wanted to grow up as fast as possible, to experience this world to its fullest. As the second son of the royal family, I would have anything I desired without needing to earn it. The throne would go to my elder brother, leaving me with few responsibilities. And here, I had access to modern technology and even a culture somewhat resembling my own. I was endlessly intrigued by the stories told by envoys, ministers, and nobles — about this world, its magic, its nations, its orders and guilds, its heroes and villains. After years of living as an infant and then a child, boredom gnawed at me, and I wanted to savor this world without delay.
In my previous life, willpower and strength had been my only allies. My parents died early in the bombings. No one ever helped or cared for me, so I learned to be as strong as necessary. Now, I had been reborn into far better conditions, in a far more interesting and pleasant world, where I could do anything I pleased.
I was two years old when I learned to read at an adult level. My parents, catching me with a book, were ecstatic.
Lada: Ahhh! My sunshine! — my mother squealed like a fangirl spotting her idol. — Love you! Love you! Love you! Love you! — she chanted, showering my face with kisses.
I couldn't resist, but I didn't exactly smile either. From my past life, I had learned to avoid showing emotion when interacting with people — not to impress others, but to keep myself calm. At first, my mother worried about it, but once I learned to speak, I found ways to reassure her. I often hugged her, kissed her, and said, "I love you," which made her joyfully squeeze me in her arms. She eventually decided I simply had a calm temperament.
Without going into detail, people in this world behaved differently. Their manners, conversations, and decisions weren't exactly the same as in my old world. But that was to be expected — evolution here might have taken another path, shaping people with different psychology. That only worked in my favor — it would be easier to destroy any enemies that stood in my way.
My brother learned to read at six, and he did it well. He excelled in other studies too, learning quickly. But I was better and faster, which infuriated him. Whenever he lost his temper at me, I only looked back with a blank, calm stare. Brat... I had slain enemies ten times more terrifying than him and woven intrigues against bureaucrats ten times more devious. To me, he was nothing more than a temporary amusement.
Odd. In the past, I would have found a way to ruin him. I could have flaunted my achievements before our parents, flattered them while painting Oleg as a jealous failure. Or I could have attacked him directly, arranging our games so I always won, then letting the court nobles laugh at him. That way, I'd plant an inferiority complex in him while keeping myself untarnished. I could even have "defended" him afterward, making him dependent on me.
But I wasn't interested. I'd grown so weary of intrigue in my previous life that now... I simply didn't care.
By sixteen, life was going splendidly. I had learned which kingdoms surrounded ours by studying geography. Elarion — the kingdom to our west; our own Rus' — to the east of it, on the same continent; Azura — to the south, across the Black Sea; Tsukihana — farther east, on another continent.
This world held countless religions. The one I belonged to was called Christianity, worshiping Christ and God, who was regarded as His father. The usual story about peace and virtue — the kind governments twist into propaganda and a means of control. I'd done the same in my old world. People always need something to believe in.
On my sixteenth birthday, my parents informed me that I would now be studying alongside other nobles and princes at the Academy of Magic. Before that, I was to take an entrance exam — purely a formality, of course. I couldn't imagine a prince being rejected from the Academy. But such formalities served to justify the rulers' authority, to show that they were "better" than their subjects and therefore fit to govern them.
The Academy was international, accepting students from all over the world, and was located here in Kyiv.