Darknova's long days and longer nights had already begun to distort everyone's sense of time. The planet rotated slowly, resulting in three days of sunlight followed by three days of darkness, and the colony had been working through the night cycle for what felt like an eternity. Under artificial lights and reactor glow, time became irrelevant. Only survival schedules mattered.
Darion Veynar had finally slept.
For twelve uninterrupted hours.
The reason was simple—Azhurath had declared he was going to sleep. The ancient demon king had gone silent for the first time since merging with him, claiming something about "cosmic exhaustion" and "mental peace," which Darion suspected meant the demon simply got bored of talking and decided to disappear for a while.
The silence in his head had been the most peaceful experience Darion had in months, so he took the opportunity and slept like a man who had been running an empire, losing an empire, founding a colony, becoming half demon, and accidentally starting a new species of soldiers.
Unfortunately, peace never lasted long for princes.
His doors were being violently hammered.
Darion opened one eye and stared at the ceiling of his enormous chamber inside the newly forming palace—the flagship that had unfolded into halls, towers, and chambers of metal and glass. Even unfinished, it already looked like a royal residence rather than a ship.
The banging continued.
He sighed.
He might have been a prince, but there were still people who would invade his life whenever they felt like it. Even Calvek, his extremely competent and extremely loyal butler, could not stop certain individuals from barging in.
Which meant only one thing.
"Mira," he muttered.
Outside, Calvek had indeed rushed from the outer hall where he had been resting on a couch, attempting to intercept the approaching storm known as Mira Koss. He tried to stop her with polite firmness, but like many times before, he failed with quiet dignity.
"Lady Mira, His Highness is resting," Calvek said calmly.
"I don't care," she replied, knocking again. "The planet is on fire, the soldiers are turning into monsters, and he is sleeping."
Calvek sighed softly. "Very well. Please attempt not to destroy the door."
Inside, Darion finally stood up, ran a hand through his hair, and walked across the large chamber, still half asleep. He opened the door.
Mira stood in front of him holding a flat screen and several documents, already looking annoyed. She wore her usual administrative uniform—elegant, fitted, and official. Her magenta eyes were slightly squinted, which Darion knew meant she was about to complain for at least ten minutes. Her long pinkish-silver lilac hair fell neatly behind her shoulders, and despite being angry, she still looked composed enough to attend a royal court.
She looked at him and immediately said, "Are you still not awake?"
Darion blinked slowly. "I was. Until someone tried to destroy my door."
"All selected soldiers have completed the fusion with the soul-binding blood entity you provided," she said rapidly. "They are behaving frantically and transforming randomly into things we do not fully understand. Your presence is required immediately. Get dressed."
She then shut the door in his face and walked away, clearly annoyed.
Darion stared at the closed door for a few seconds.
"Being born a prince was clearly a mistake," he muttered.
As he dressed, he reviewed everything that had happened. After everyone's consent, he had asked Azhurath how to perform the soul integration. The demon had explained his blood infusion method—Darion's blood infused with Azhurath's mana and magic, combined with the Symbiarch chip, would attract the nearest compatible soul from the land and bind it to the subject.
The souls would not have their own will like Azhurath did. They were too weak. They would simply merge and act as extensions of the host, granting abilities and adaptation to the world's energy.
After hearing this explanation earlier, Darion had asked Azhurath one final question.
"Why am I the only unlucky one who got a talking demon?"
Azhurath had laughed for a full minute.
When Darion reached the large observation platform overlooking the training hall, Mira, Kavik, and Rell were already waiting. They all gave a slight bow—not formal, not forced, but genuine. Not to a prince of the empire.
To their leader.
Rell spoke first. "Fifty soldiers completed the transformation. They all fainted after fusion but woke up sane."
Kavik took over immediately. "All subjects successfully integrated with Symbiarch Version 3, also known as Infernal Symbiarch. Their bodies adapted similarly to yours. However, there is one unknown variable—they are randomly transforming into different biological and energy-based forms."
"Transforming?" Darion asked and looked down into the training hall.
The scene below was chaos.
One soldier had bat-like wings growing from his back and claws extending from his hands. He flapped once, lifted into the air, panicked, and crashed into a wall. Another soldier had steel-like scales covering his arms and claws that accidentally sliced through a metal training plate. One had tentacle-like appendages emerging from his back, their tips glowing with unknown energy. Several had horns growing from their heads.
They were transforming uncontrollably.
Mira crossed her arms. "Why can't they control it? You said the souls would not have their own will."
She gave Darion an annoyed look.
Darion shrugged slightly. "How would I know? Let me ask the source of the problem."
He closed his eyes slightly and spoke in his mind. "Hey, demon king. Where are you when I need you?"
A massive voice echoed in his mind like mountains cracking apart.
"What is it, my prince?" Azhurath said, yawning. "Why do you disturb my rest? Even kings require sleep."
"You created a problem while sleeping," Darion replied calmly. "Explain."
He looked again at the struggling soldiers below.
Azhurath laughed softly. "This is nothing. Their consciousness has not yet adapted to their new bodies. The transformations are unconscious responses. Their minds will learn control soon. It simply means the integration is very successful."
Darion opened his eyes and relayed the explanation to the others.
Kavik nodded slowly. "That actually makes sense. Neural adaptation lag."
Mira sighed. "Good. I was preparing paperwork for a disaster report."
After about an hour, the transformations began stabilizing. One by one, the soldiers returned to normal human form, breathing heavily but looking amazed. Their senses were sharper, their movements lighter, their breathing easier despite the toxic atmosphere.
They looked relieved.
For the first time since arriving on this dead world, they looked hopeful.
Rell laughed loudly and grabbed Kavik by the shoulders. "We're not dying! We're actually not dying!"
Kavik grinned like a mad scientist. "Do you understand what this means? Adaptive bio-demonic cybernetic evolution! This is revolutionary!"
Mira looked calmer than she had in weeks. "This means supply calculations might actually work now."
Thoren entered the platform at that moment with Calvek behind him. Thoren, one of the empire's great generals, looked down at the training hall and nodded.
"Looks like the experiment was successful," Thoren said. "What is our next move, Prince?"
Darion watched the soldiers below for a long moment before answering.
"If Kavik finds no long-term irregularities, we proceed with transforming the remaining population," he said calmly. "If we do nothing, we die anyway. So we proceed."
Everyone nodded.
They were past the point of safe decisions.
Now only necessary decisions remained.
Just then, Mira's screen beeped with new information. She checked it quickly, her expression changing slightly.
"It seems," she said slowly, "our planet is being watched."
Darion looked at her. "By whom?"
"Scavenger satellites. Probably independent observers or minor factions monitoring activity."
Thoren crossed his arms. "Visitors soon then. What shall we do?"
Darion did not answer immediately.
He looked out across the black plains, the rising metal city, the transforming soldiers, and the palace forming from his flagship.
His mind drifted briefly to his past.
His uncle's court.
His cousins beating him.
The nobles laughing.
The emperor watching silently.
The exile decree.
Selling royal ships just to buy a dead planet.
Choosing Darknova because it was the only world he could afford.
In exile, only two things happened to princes.
They died.
Or they became someone else's servant.
Darion had chosen a third option.
He became something new.
He had endured humiliation his entire life not because he was weak, but because he had no power yet. His friends knew this. Mira, Rell, Kavik, Thoren, Calvek—they all knew he endured to survive.
Because Darion Veynar was not a patient man.
He was a patient predator.
He finally looked at Thoren.
"We will receive our guests," Darion said calmly.
Thoren nodded. "Diplomacy?"
Darion's eyes were calm, but there was something dangerous behind them now.
"To their demise," he said.
And for the first time in a very long time, Darion Veynar was no longer the exiled prince.
He was becoming something far more dangerous.
A ruler with nothing left to lose.