Alright, since resistance is futile, I can only silently accept it. Zeke had been dejected ever since returning from his father's place.
For some unknown reason, his talent grew stronger with time. He could master many things after learning them just once.
He did not display such terrifying talent.
Instead, he continued to learn at his previous slow pace, fearing that showing too much genius would lead to the family focusing even more on his training.
He couldn't take it anymore; he'd rather just live the life that was barely acceptable for a three-year-old.
Time slowly passed, and since he had been living this way, Zeke gradually came to accept it. However, there was one thing he never understood.
Normally, most people needed to pray to the Emperor before eating.
To be honest, although his family had told him what the Emperor was—that he was the master of mankind, the savior of humanity, and humanity's greatest savior in this star sea—he was still a bit confused.
Wasn't this just religious superstition?
But then he thought of the Ecclesiarchy, a religious organization that appeared openly throughout the Imperium of Man, and he had no choice but to accept this bizarre setting.
Is the Emperor a god? No, he is just a more powerful human, that was his initial thought.
From the first time he learned of the Emperor's existence until now, at 17 years old, he still held the same belief: the Emperor is not a god.
He is merely a powerful human.
Undoubtedly, from the perspective of people in Warhammer, Zeke's current thoughts were somewhat rebellious and blasphemous.
But from another perspective, Zeke's loyalty at this time was unmatched by others, because he was the only one who believed the Emperor was not a god.
Time slowly passed, and Zeke completed the various family educations, subsequently settling into a rather boring life.
As time passed and the knowledge he acquired grew, the first thing Zeke did every morning was to chant the family chronicle and pray to the Emperor.
Praying was easy; he could complete it directly.
But chanting the family chronicle was a bit too torturous.
The knight house chronicle, passed down by the Yaeger House for tens of thousands of years, was as numerous as stars and as vast as the sea.
Unlike other knight houses who could quickly finish chanting, or even if they chanted slowly and extensively, they could usually finish in a few hours.
Their family, however, could spend an entire morning just chanting a portion of it.
Normally, people of a knight house were required to recite all these things, as they were all chronicles.
They were the achievements of the family's ancestors.
But their family's heritage was simply too long, so the family elders made some changes.
Every morning, only six hours of chanting the family chronicle was required. How benevolent!
In over ten years of life, he realized that the life of a noble was not one of merely eating and waiting to die; it was a life that he found torturous.
Zeke had now become a reasonably qualified lord. If someone called him an arrogant insect, he would merely laugh it off.
If someone jumped out and told him he was just a useless person under the family's grace, he would certainly draw his sword and fight to the death.
Indeed, he didn't need to struggle for a livelihood like those underhive dwellers and workers, but he suffered no less, even ten or a hundred times more than them.
Any action that disgraced a noble would result in a precise smack from the family tutor.
This wasn't some feigned tap to make an example; it was a solid, heavy blow that brought excruciating pain.
Don't think that just because he was the heir to the high king, don't think that just because he was the future ruler of this planet, he wouldn't get hit.
Sometimes, Zeke even suspected that if it weren't for the disgrace to noble dignity, he truly believed the family elders might order a high-quality Adeptus Arbites stun baton to educate him.
Even though his intelligence was exceptionally high, even though he could learn anything, all of this did not escape his own moments of relaxation or distraction.
After all, not everyone can maintain a constant state of mental tension.
He was just an ordinary person, even if he was a knight.
In short, in such a growth environment, his only pleasure became demonstrating his superb swordsmanship during sword fighting classes, beating his peers soundly.
It was his only way to vent, because it was legal to hit people, and when he defeated others, not only would he not face their resistance or dislike, but it would make them respect him even more.
There was no other reason, because he was the future king of this planet!
And as king, he had to be the strongest among his peers; this was something he had to achieve.
Time passed uneventfully like this. On the surface, he was always under the family's education, but this did not mean that as a transmigrator, he had no secrets. He had one secret.
This was a secret that appeared when he was four years old. At four years old, for some unknown reason, his consciousness seemed to leave his body and travel to a vast galactic empire.
There, he saw a colossal nation vastly different from the Imperium of Man. They called themselves the Terran Dominion, but their technology was far more advanced than anything he had ever heard of.
There, he received a piece of information. To this day, he has never told anyone about this information. The content of the information was very simple.
**Emperor, we will find you**
He only managed to hear this one sentence and this piece of information before his consciousness returned to his body. But as proof that he had this dream, he obtained a small box in his hand.
The message in his brain told him what the small box in his hand was: it was an STC template.
This STC template stored some plasma gun and shield manufacturing technology, and even genetic modification technology, allowing him to assemble his own personal guard.
To verify what kind of situation that dream of his was, he took a risk. At the age of sixteen, he once took out the minute technology from within and had an exchange with a Tech-Priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
And the result of that exchange greatly benefited him.
Even just a tiny, insignificant part of the energy improvement technology from that template actually increased the performance of the Imperium's standard plasma gun by 50%.
To the Adeptus Mechanicus, knowledge is precious, and the knowledge he revealed earned him more resources.
From that day on, he confirmed that his dream had seemed real, and these technologies were also real.
At the same time, he could 100% confirm that the "Emperor" mentioned in the message he received in his dream definitely did not refer to the big guy sitting on the golden throne in the Imperium of Man.
If he was not mistaken, and if there were no accidents, the word "Emperor" seemed to refer to him.
If Zeke had not had this dream after transmigrating at age four, perhaps he would have realized how similar it was to that game of stellaris he played.
But unfortunately, by the time he arrived in this world, he was already four years old, and in those four years, he had experienced too much.
A vast amount of knowledge poured into his mind, pushing the insignificant memory of the stellaris game he played before transmigrating to the deepest part of his brain.
Without encountering any truly iconic thing to stimulate him, he simply couldn't recall this memory.
After all, who would have thought that a game he once played would actually become a vast empire coming to find him?
Moreover, there was a chaos daemon named Tzeentch in this universe.
This chaos daemon loved to deceive people. Who knew if what he was thinking was Tzeentch's trick?
This world is truly too dangerous; we are all trying hard to live.