“As expected of Prince Dale!”
“Unbelievable skill!”
“So everything people say is true!”
As the lords scrambled to heap flattering praise upon Dale ahead of his victory.
‘Was it really this easy?’
Even Dale himself, maintaining a forced composure, couldn’t hide his inner bewilderment at this unexpectedly decisive victory.
Even if he was a young knight barely in his twenties, he was one who gave his all through his aura. Yet, when facing him, a strange sensation overwhelmed me, as if the entire world had slowed down.
Except for one thing: himself.
That wasn’t all.
‘The Shadow Cloak Sword feels like a part of my own body.’
As if invisible tentacles existed as part of his body, and he was using those tentacles to manipulate the shadow blade… He thought that far and then realized. The existence of the ‘magic book rooted in the form of tentacles’ within his own heart.
The essence of black magic fused with one’s own flesh, 『The Book of the Black Goat』.
A grimoire is itself a ‘magician’s sword’ that elevates the magician’s realm. In that regard, the 『Book of the Black Goat』 is truly one of the world’s most dreaded cursed swords.
Thus, when the circle is spun to generate black magic power, the grimoire rooted in Dale’s heart activates as ‘another Source of Black’, creating a synergistic effect.
Furthermore, he’s fortifying his physique with high-concentration dark magic and amplifying the power of the dark artifact ‘Shadow Cloak’ several times over. No, it wasn’t just several times. Judging by Dale’s current prowess, he could now fight on equal terms against a powerhouse of Aura Knight rank or higher.
“Is this all you’ve got?”
Yet, maintaining his composure, Dale looked down at Sir Yones. As if he had known this would happen from the start.
As the eldest son of the Saxon ducal house and the ‘Black Prince’, he addressed the one who dared to doubt and test his name.
“Shadow Bullet.”
Dale flicked his fingers.
The blades of darkness orbiting around Dale shattered simultaneously. The finely fragmented pieces of shadow blades were forged into bullet shapes, and a hail of bullets formed from pure malice rained down.
Toward Sir Yones kneeling before Dale.
Like pulling the trigger of a heavy machine gun, the ‘Shadow Bullet’ barrage rained down.
“……!”
A scream echoed. But immediately after. The bullets of darkness fired at Lord Yones merely shattered the ground beneath his feet.
Leaving the shattered marble floor of the Saxon ducal palace in disarray behind him, Dale turned his head.
An unspoken warning. At last, Lord Yones’ composure crumbled. His legs trembled violently.
Seeing this, one could understand. That the swordsmanship the ‘Black Prince’ had just displayed was nothing more than a diversion.
Before the true power unleashed when wielding a sword and ‘magic at full strength’… the Shadow Blade was nothing.
An emotion too profound to be described as mere shock or astonishment enveloped the hall.
“……”
Awe.
Just as his father had once felt.
“Is there anyone who wishes to challenge me again?”
No one could speak carelessly in his presence.
“Is there anyone left who doubts my name and possesses the courage to prove themselves?”
Dale asked again. Only a solemn silence filled the hall.
Clang!
After the silence, the sound of steel plates clanging together, rivets connecting them, echoed. It was the sound of kneeling.
The lords and knights, each clad in armor, simultaneously thrust their swords vertically into the ground before the young eldest son of House Saxon. Unquestionable loyalty as knights.
Unconsciously, his father’s words—the Black Count’s habitual refrain—came to mind.
Fear ensures loyalty.
It was indeed true.
That night.
After the lords’ assembly and formalities concluded, a festival celebrating the victory in battle commenced.
Alongside a social gathering for the noble houses, soldiers in the outer tents were also provided with wine and meat.
But Lord Yones, defeated by Dale, slipped out of the duke’s castle alone and headed for the barracks where his mercenaries were stationed.
He recalled the curses his father and brother hurled at his reckless actions.
“Captain, you don’t look well.”
“……”
Ignoring his subordinate’s concerned words, Yones downed his drink.
“Fucking hell, this world’s a piece of shit.”
Only after the alcohol took hold did his words finally flow freely.
“Even if I swing my sword like hell, I can’t even touch that bastard’s heels. Does my face look good to you?”
“C-Captain…?”
“And to top it off, he’s not even a knight—he’s a mage! Ha ha!”
As he muttered to himself, one of his subordinates cautiously asked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m saying I got my ass kicked by an 11-year-old brat, you piece of shit!”
“Ah, you mean the eldest son of the House of Saxony?”
“Yes.”
“Well, people say he’s a once-in-a-generation genius, possessing the greatest talent in the empire…”
Indeed, that is precisely the case.
‘A person’s status is not determined at birth, but can change depending on their efforts.’
Who could dare utter such nonsense in the presence of the eldest son of the Saxon family? It was more than a crushing defeat. The despair that an insurmountable being stood before him gripped his heart.
The very embodiment of absurdity, symbolizing the injustice of this world itself.
That’s how immense the wall the ‘Black Prince’ had shown us truly was.
“Damn it all, this booze tastes fucking awful!”
That’s why Lord Yones shouted as he downed glass after glass.
“Yeah, you bet! What in the world could be better than booze!”
“Let’s drink up, Captain!”
In a castle full of empty formalities, observing the pretentious etiquette of nobility was utterly tiresome. That’s why being with his subordinates, whom he could treat without reserve, was Lord Yones’s only joy.
“Damn, just thinking about it makes me furious all over again.”
Lord Yones opened his mouth again, downing another drink.
“You should’ve seen those noblewomen clinging to that eleven-year-old brat.”
“What was it like?”
“Ha! They were practically back-alley whores!”
Desperately fawning over that mere brat to win his favor!
“So by now, he’s probably rolling around with some lady somewhere!”
“Probably more than one!”
“Well, being the eldest son of a duke, his scale is truly beyond compare!”
“Hey, did that 11-year-old even have any hair down there?”
“He has.”
“Oh, really?”
Lord Yones nodded thoughtlessly at the reply, paying no heed to the sudden silence that settled around them.
“What’s wrong, you lot? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“C-C-Commander…”
One subordinate stammered, his face drained of color.
“Could it be… that boy who just came in is the one you mentioned, Captain…”
There was no way the mercenaries here could recognize ‘Dale of Saxony’.
However, judging by the splendid garments bearing the Saxon House’s raven crest and the black surcoat… and furthermore, realizing that the one wearing them was a boy of about eleven years old. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to guess his identity.
“What? That brat showed up here?”
Sir Yones, thoroughly drunk, turned his head without a care.
“That’s right.”
And that very ‘brat’ answered.
“……”
Flailing the ‘Shadow Cloak’ disguised as a black suknort.
Silence settled like feathers.
“……”
“……”
It was an incredibly awkward silence, and at the end of it, Dale perched beside Sir Yones.
“…Here’s your drink.”
He handed him the wine he’d brought directly from the duke’s castle.
“The world is cursed, isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t.”
Lord Yones took the wine Dale offered with trembling hands.
“That’s just how things are in this world.”
Watching him, Dale continued, as if speaking to someone far younger in life.
“It’s unfair and absurd, and there’s nothing that can be decided by human hands.”
He spoke as if it were someone else’s affair.
“The innate talent one is born with, the surrounding environment, the blood flowing through one’s veins and the family lineage…”
Dale asked.
“Among the factors that determine our fate, is there even one we can decide by our own will?”
“No, there isn’t.”
Lord Yones shook his head.
“And yet, do you still believe you can forge your own destiny with your own hands?”
“……”
Dale asked again. For a moment, Lord Yones seemed about to nod in agreement.
Until today, until he saw the ‘Black Prince’ standing before him.
“So don’t blame yourself too much.”
“…….”
“In this world, there’s no such thing as fate we can change with our own hands.”
And hearing those very words from the person it applied to… I was so utterly speechless, all I could do was laugh.
After laughing, the sorrow finally burst forth.
At first, I thought it was a nightmare. Or maybe I was just so drunk I was seeing things.
‘Prince Dale is looking for you.’
At least, that’s what I wanted to believe until the Saxon Knights of the Night Raven came for me personally the next morning.
A chamber in the Saxon ducal castle.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
“D-Dale, my lord…”
Lord Yones quietly swallowed, taken aback by Dale’s usual polite speech.
‘Was it all a dream after all?’
“You were so drunk, you said you’d treat me like an older brother from now on.”
“…N-no way.”
“We had such a meaningful conversation all through the dawn.”
Only after hearing the story of himself pour out of Dale’s mouth did he finally become certain that last night’s events were not a dream.
“Lord Yones, second son of the House of Baron Kenneth.”
Last night’s duel and defeat, and the commotion at dawn.
“From birth, he sacrificed for his eldest son, became a wandering knight with a single sword, and built up a hundred-strong mercenary band.”
It all felt like a fleeting, one-night dream, and this would be the last scene of life he would see.
For soon his head would be severed by the swords of the Knights of the Night Crow.
Just as Sir Yones believed this without a doubt, unexpected words slipped from Dale’s mouth.
“I liked you.”
“…What?”
“You and your entire mercenary company.”
And at the words that followed, Sir Yones doubted his own ears.
“For the House of Saxony, would you consider wielding a sword under my command?”
“W-what on earth….”
“Before the coming battle, my knights will instruct you and your men.”
Dale’s knights. The Saxon House’s Night Raven Knights themselves will teach us swordsmanship!
“From the basics of gripping a sword to the principles of aura control—everything.”
He had believed opportunities like this simply didn’t exist. He thought he had no choice but to rely solely on his own sword to navigate the world.
“Rather than worrying about the future, it’s more important to focus on surviving the battlefield right before you.”
And ironically, the one who taught Lord Yones more than anything else about the world’s unfairness…
…was promising to give him an opportunity no one else dared to offer.
“Wh-why would you go to such lengths?”
Lord Yones asked in a trembling voice, forgetting even that he was speaking to an 11-year-old boy.
“I happened to need someone…”
To Lord Yones’ question, Dale answered casually, as if it didn’t matter either way.
“Because you were there.”
As if it truly didn’t matter at all.
“That’s just how things go in this world.”
