"I wanted to congratulate you on your graduation," said an old bald man, bowing slightly from behind his professor's desk.
Lucius, lost in thought, blinked before answering.
"Me? What? Oh—yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?"
With the Boreas war looming, the academy had chosen to push graduation forward by a week, just in case hostilities erupted early. That morning, Lucius and the rest of his class had officially graduated. He was now, whether he liked it or not, a soldier of Helios.
His private professor chuckled softly.
"Yes, you did." The laughter faded, replaced by a solemn look. "Which means you'll be taking part in the upcoming war…"
Lucius let out a dry breath.
"Unfortunately, it seems that way."
The professor's expression darkened for a moment before he forced it bright again.
"No reason to worry! You're the prince, your safety is almost guaranteed!"
Lucius scoffed.
"Yeah, tell that to my predecessors."
The old man scratched his bald head awkwardly, then bent down to rummage through his desk. When he straightened, he was holding a coffee mug. Across the front, in bold letters, were the words: World's Best Student.
Lucius took it, and the corner of his lips tugged upward despite himself.
"I know it's not much—"
"I love it. Thank you," Lucius cut him off, his voice firmer than expected. He'd never received a gift before. The mug was cheap, ridiculous, and he would almost certainly never drink from it, but somehow, it sparked a strange warmth in his chest.
The professor's face lit up at the sight of Lucius's rare smile. To avoid the weight of any more heartfelt words, Lucius turned toward the door.
"Stay safe," the professor called after him, his voice worried but gentle.
Waving over his shoulder, Lucius let out a laugh.
"Oh, you know me, the safest kid in all of Helios. I'll probably hide the whole time and bring disgrace to the royal name. I am a shitty prince, after all."
It had been a long day for Lucius. First came the graduation ceremony. He barely had time to process it before his father ordered him to report to his new unit—the First Battalion of the Helios army. They were the kingdom's front line, commanded by its strongest commander.
After the battalion's briefing, Lucius finally slipped away to meet Marcus for coffee. He had nearly forgotten about him after the chaos at the military base, but luckily, Marcus was neither hurt nor particularly shaken. His friend had acquired a job inside the royal castle, although due to the nature of the Job, he wasn't allowed to tell Lucius its contents.
Now, hours later, Lucius sat beside his mother, scooping a spoonful of soup carefully to her lips. It was his turn to feed her again. He didn't mind. In fact, it gave him an excuse to leave the dinner table, where his father had been berating him about the incident at the base.
No one knew how the Boreas prince had infiltrated so deep into their defenses. The whispers leaned toward an inside job. Naturally, his father's suspicions fell squarely on him.
Only his brother's voice of reason spared him from outright condemnation. Still, the entire meal had been exhausting.
Lucius studied his mother's frail face.
She looks worse… It will probably be soon.
His mother's death loomed over him, inevitable and unrelenting. He didn't even know how to feel about it. Part of him despised her, a woman who had never shown him an ounce of love, who surely knew of the kingdom's sacrifices and looked the other way. And yet… she was still his mother. Watching her body wither into such a decrepit state stirred a hollow ache in his chest.
A tear threatened the corner of his eye. He wiped it away quickly, unwilling to let it linger. She didn't notice. He fed her the last spoonful of soup, then gently dabbed her lips clean.
Her voice came strained and fragile, like dry leaves crackling in the wind.
"Have… you… mentioned the… letter to anyone?"
Lucius frowned. "No." He shook his head.
Her lips curved faintly, the smallest of smiles.
"Good. Keep it that way."
The words only deepened his curiosity. What could she have written that demanded such secrecy, even now, with death at her doorstep?
Damn it. His jaw tightened as he rose from her bedside, gripping the empty bowl too tightly. Without another word, he turned and left the room.
…
It was that time of the week again, the moment the ever-so-gracious king "generously" offered resources to his prince. Lucius sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, gripping the claws of a fire crow. Grade 2 Beasts, fire crows were a potent source of energy for cultivation.
Yet his latest batch of materials confirmed his suspicions: the king had been giving him less and less. His lack of progress had apparently earned disfavor. It made sense, but Lucius didn't take it lightly. Continued stagnation could eventually mean execution.
After all, when a prince failed, a new one would rise. The kingdom would rather gamble on a fresh heir than waste time on a failure.
Lucius smirked. That Boreas offer looks better and better.
Still clutching the fire crow's claws, he began to absorb their energy. Already teetering on the brink of Loki Stage 4, the first drop of energy pushed him over. In his mind, a vertical grey line connected all Loki stages. Circles marked each stage, each number inscribed within, but now, up to Stage 4, the line glowed green, the circles filled with emerald light.
Power surged through him, overwhelming and intoxicating. Strength, speed, mana potency, and capacity had all doubled. Stage 4 was his.
Opening his eyes, Lucius grinned devilishly.
Oh, how I have been waiting for this. No more stupid ass dinners.
He glanced at the empty space on the floor in front of him and extended his hand.
"Doppelgänger."
At his command, a figure materialized in a soft green light. First, the feet appeared, then the body, clothed in red pajamas. Vermilion eyes, messy black hair, by the time the light fully formed, a sixteen-year-old boy stood there, looking utterly average.
Lucius studied himself, while the clone didn't move.
He frowned.
Damn… Not exactly easy on the eyes.
Then, unexpectedly, the clone raised a hand, waved, and a bright smile spread across his face.
"Yo!"
Startled, Lucius jumped backward on his bed and instinctively threw a pillow. The clone casually blocked it.
"What the hell? I didn't order you to talk!"
"And I don't say 'yo'!" the clone shot back, grin unwavering.
"No, I don't say yo! You just did!"
His Doppelgänger burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching his stomach as he rocked back and forth.
"If you don't say 'yo,' then how can I say 'yo? I'm you!"
Lucius stared at him in silence, his face blank. Finally, he let out a long sigh.
"…I'm already regretting this."