Chapter 109 - Who Dares to Debate Qualifications? (3)

"Such a pathetic provocation..."

"Shut your mouth. I wasn't asking you..."

The Third Prince, who had been blathering on while feigning composure, raised his sword as if having a seizure.

"Your Highness! Please be careful!"

"Your Highness!"

An urgent warning, but I didn't bat an eye.

I merely released the status I had kept suppressed.

The status of a hero that had reached perfection upon ascending to Sword Master, along with my anger at having my original body stolen, mercilessly crushed the Third Prince.

"Uh? U-uh..."

Frozen in place, the Third Prince let out a bewildered groan.

I looked away from that wretched sight.

"Just what the hell are you?"

My original body was there.

My original body, which shouldn't have awakened under normal circumstances, had nothing left inside it but the massive energy I had accumulated over my lifetime.

And yet, my original body had awakened.

Which meant something unknown to me had taken over my original body.

It wasn't the scoundrel. That scoundrel's soul was far too wretched to awaken my original body on its own.

I looked around.

I saw corpses that had been drained of their vitality and shriveled to the extreme.

It was the trace of the Demonic sword's authority of gluttony being exercised.

I glared at my original body once more.

I fiercely bared my teeth at the unidentified entity that had hijacked another's body and gorged itself to its heart's content.

VWOOONG.

Dusk trembled. The status and presence flowing from my body shook the surroundings.

But the unidentified something that had taken over my original body showed no reaction.

The bastard that had been exuding its presence entirely and carelessly using its gluttonous authority to feast just moments ago was now pretending to be an ordinary treasured sword, as if it didn't even exist.

"If you won't reveal your identity yourself, I have no choice but to find out directly."

I reached out my hand. I snatched my original body from the frozen Third Prince's grasp.

No, I tried to snatch it.

But I couldn't.

CRACK!

The moment my hand touched it, a tremendous wave of cold suddenly erupted.

I instinctively pulled my hand back.

My high-quality leather combat glove was frozen white.

CRUNCH.

When I clenched my fist, the frozen glove shattered and tore away.

I shook my hand, shaking off the insidious chill that had seeped into my body.

If I had been even a little slower, my hand wouldn't have remained intact either; my expression naturally contorted.

I knew under what conditions my original body emitted that kind of freezing cold.

It was exactly when someone who wasn't its master laid hands on it. Which meant that right now, my original body strictly had a master.

"It's not an easy object that an unqualified bastard like you can just touch, Brother."

A boastful voice rang out.

Turning my head, I saw the Third Prince mocking me with a triumphant face.

"The only one who can touch this sword is the one chosen by the spirit of the great ancestor who slayed the Mad Dragon."

The petty sense of accomplishment of one who believed he had been chosen by the Divine Sword.

"And the spirit of the ancestor has chosen me."

I clicked my tongue.

"You stupid fool."

"What?"

I asked the frowning bastard.

"Do you really think you were chosen as its master?"

"It seems you don't want to believe it."

The bastard looked at me and smiled. It was a smile that fully revealed his base sense of victory.

Looking at such a bastard, I smiled back.

"You weren't chosen as its master."

He was chosen. But he wasn't chosen as its master.

He was merely chosen as a slave.

No, even that was giving him too much credit.

"You're just a sacrifice."

He was nothing more than prey to soothe the Demonic sword's greedy instincts and its hundreds of years of hunger.

In fact, the moment he stopped his slaughter, he had been rapidly aging.

Wrinkles around his mouth unbefitting his young age of fifteen, and dry, lifeless skin.

If he couldn't find a sacrifice to replace himself, he would soon turn into a withered husk, completely drained of his vitality.

The moment of his ruin was already right in front of him, yet he was the only one who didn't know it.

"No matter how much you run your mouth, Brother, nothing will change."

Claiming that his father lacked legitimacy because he couldn't awaken the sword despite holding it, the Third Prince denied his own father.

"Because from now on, I will lead this country."

He then declared that he alone was the legitimate heir to this country.

The ignorance of a fool and the vain greed of the unqualified were all too familiar to me.

Like a moth to a flame, his appearance was not one bit different from those who had grabbed the Demonic sword in the past, blinded by greed.

And his end would be no different either.

I sighed.

"To think there are already two in this generation alone; my karma is truly great."

Although it wasn't my intention, I had ended up harming two descendants of the close friend I promised to look after.

My heart felt heavy.

The weight of the sword I held felt even greater. I neither shook off nor denied that crushing pressure.

I merely lifted my sword while bearing exactly that amount of weight.

"Your Highness! The Second Prince's evacuation is complete!"

Just in time, Arwen informed me.

That the evacuation of all the wounded was finished. That I could run wild to my heart's content from now on.

"When did they!"

The foolish blood of Leonberk looked around and ground his teeth.

Now, the only ones left around were my knights, the kingdom's Silver Lion, the top knights among the Royal Knights, and the King and Queen.

"It doesn't matter. Since His Majesty remains here."

Recovering his expression belatedly, the Third Prince said.

"I will cut off His Majesty's and your heads right here, and before the night is over, I will hunt down every blood relative of Leonberk and erase them."

The madness in his eyes deepened as he giggled, as if the mere thought brought him joy.

"And I will become the king of this country!"

And in that moment, a tremendous presence poured out from his body.

"Behold!"

A mighty energy that neared the great power of a Sword Master.

"This is the power of the Dragon Slayer! See it, feel it, and praise it!"

He shouted in an overly excited tone.

I shook my head.

"That is not the sword's power."

It was the innate source of life he was born with,

the potential he might have reached on his own had he taken the time to discipline himself,

and the very human life he should have enjoyed over tens or a hundred years—

it was nothing more than a final spark ignited by burning all of those things at once.

I briefly closed my eyes. Countless thoughts raced through my mind.

The stupid and foolish third child of the royal family,

whose greed was bloated compared to his innate talents and abilities,

an immoral wretch who would execute his own father and brothers to finally ascend the throne.

Even such a person spoke of the kingdom's glory while his mind was dominated by the sword and only instincts remained.

I opened my eyes.

I looked at the Third Prince. His face, which had rapidly aged out of nowhere, resembled someone.

I turned my head.

The King was there. With a face strikingly identical to his maddened son's.

["The Empire constantly added clauses to the treaty, trying to break the kingdom's spirit."]

The conversation I had shared with Marquis Bielefeld surfaced in my mind.

["They even made the absurd demand that all heirs inheriting the title of Count or higher must head to the Empire before turning thirteen to receive mandatory education at the Imperial Academy for five years."]

["They made countless other unreasonable demands, but His Majesty did not accept any of them."]

["As a result, the nobles and knights loyal to His Majesty went missing or died under suspicious circumstances. Among them were the Third Queen, the biological mother of the Second Prince, and the Second Queen, the biological mother of the other Princes."]

A monarch of a weak nation, as the Marquis had described,

["The powerless King of Leonberk is one who does not advance, but rather one who does not step back."]

was someone holding out until the very end while driven to the edge of a cliff.

I finally understood those words.

Only now, at this very moment, crossing swords with a young prince in front of his aging father.

The sorrow and grief of the men who collapsed onto the throne, crushed by the weight of the crown while wearing a king's robes that didn't fit them, touched my soul for the first time. *RUUUMBLE. *

I adjusted my grip on my sword with both hands.

And I looked at the pitiful wretch.

I drew out my status to its peak. The presence blossoming from the Third Prince's body also grew more massive.

The bastard looked at me and laughed.

"I've hated you from the very beginning, Brother."

"I hated you as well."

"That's great, then!"

The Third Prince raised his sword high and charged at me.

The Demonic sword, which had been ravenously devouring the prince's vitality, spewed out frost as if vomiting.

Watching that sight, I quietly recited a poem in my heart.

A part of the legend of the Dragon Slayer he had so deeply desired,

GRRRRRRRR.

Dusk howled and sang the myth of slaying dragons.

The song became authority, and it became destruction that split the world.

It cleaved through the cold that was spreading as if to freeze the entire surroundings, and reached the body of the pitiful wretch beyond it.

Unable to even fully swing down his raised sword, the Third Prince stopped right in his tracks.

"Ah..."

The Third Prince's gaze fell to his own arms.

THUD.

His two hands, severed from the elbows, dropped to the floor. Still clutching the sword.

"Ah? Aaah..."

The Third Prince let out a stupefied sound and collapsed.

Decades of time settled onto the face of the Third Prince as he looked at his thoroughly shriveled forearms, unable to even bleed.

Looking at that sight, I recalled the moment I first met the Third Prince.

The young prince who had approached me while hiding his intention to step on his brother and make a name for himself; I had cursed him for being filthy and base back then. Thinking about it now, it was merely a child's immaturity and competitive spirit.

"But I don't dislike you that much now."

I raised my sword.

Those stripped of their vitality by the [Authority of Gluttony] would ultimately die moaning in terrible agony, so I would end that suffering with my own hands.

TWANG!

Just then, a small sound rang out from somewhere.

And an arrow pierced right into the Third Prince's forehead.

I turned my head toward the direction the arrow had flown from.

The King stood there, holding a bow.

A king who had punished a traitor; a father who had ended his wicked son's life was there.

The King spoke.

"Burn the traitor's corpse and retrieve the bodies of the fallen knights and soldiers."

Struggling to hide the sorrow welling in his eyes, he played the part of a cold and stern monarch with his words.

And for the first time, I saw it.

Not the status of a soul peered at through a petty authority, but the true soul of a king.

Having had to lose everything he owned one by one just to avoid stepping back,

and having finally had to lose his own son here and now; the battered soul of that pitiful man entered my eyes.

The King looked at me.

STEP, STEP.

The King approached me.

And upon reaching me, he bent over.

GRAB.

Prying the Third Prince's shriveled forearms away from the sword, the King stared intently at me.

Then, he abruptly handed the sword to me.

"It is yours."

It was a statement carrying truly many meanings.

Funnily enough, I could not readily accept that sword.

For the first time, I felt the weight of the right to succeed the throne, which until recently I had merely considered a bonus attached to my original body.

A king is not merely someone who fights and advances,

so had I debated a king's qualifications with an arrogant gaze yet again?

"Take it."

The King thrust the sword toward me once more. I carefully extended both hands and accepted the sword.

The King turned around. And then, he disappeared, leading his knights away.

The Queen approached me and hugged me tightly.

"Do not curse His Majesty as a cold-blooded father."

The Queen's voice ringing in my ears was also full of sorrow.

"His Majesty simply did not want the child who will inherit this country's throne to bear the burden of having taken his own brother's life."

I was at a loss for words and couldn't even make any response.

Like that, I watched the backs of the King and Queen as they disappeared.

VWOOONG.