#80
His eyes were watching the Prince. And the Prince’s hands, feet, breathing, mana flow, attack timing—he was analyzing everything simultaneously.
‘His movements are quite natural.’
That wasn’t a simple observation. These were movements that couldn’t come without actual combat experience. Not the body movements of someone fleeing, but the rhythm of someone responding and making judgments. He was moving like someone who had actually fought before.
Like someone with considerable fighting experience.
Even though the Prince had clearly never left the palace.
Part of the seal that had entered the formation’s gap tore and burst.
Light flashed for an instant. It wasn’t a physical explosion. The mana’s trajectory distorted, and it was a rupture where one axis of the barrier broke. Part of the wall shook as if twisting, and the texture of the air changed.
Immediately, part of the barrier maintaining the space shattered.
Tension momentarily crossed Lindel’s face.
He reacted to the unexpected rupture. Clearly that structure had been firmly sealed and couldn’t be destroyed by simple interference. But—now that seal was crumbling.
“How did you manage that…!”
His voice was sharp. Not panic, but anger. A clear reaction of inferiority complex. They were the ones who had prepared this place, yet it was an unexpected figure who had broken through that barrier.
“Too late.”
Ersen answered decisively.
He didn’t hesitate about heirlooms or whatever, and didn’t miss that opportunity.
The fact that he didn’t hesitate was important. Most people would have missed the moment, saying “this is something I should save.” However, Ersen knew precisely from his pre-regression experience that right now was “the moment to use it.”
After accurately capturing the opponent’s mana flow, he drew up power from deep within, suppressing his emotions like crushing them down.
That emotion wasn’t fear, but decision. Will that blazed like cold flame. Mana was the language of emotion. And Ersen was speaking that language more fluently than anyone.
The seal was an item that both solidified Ersen’s position as a villain and allowed him to use such tricks.
He had already given up on becoming a hero. Instead, he moved as a thorough threat. That sometimes saved people. Only when he became “a being that appeared villainous” could this world endure a little longer.
‘My lifespan does become a bit precarious though.’
Just drawing blood would do, but to be precise, it activated by absorbing the life force contained in blood.
The price wasn’t small. Each time he used it, the mana circuits inside his body burned briefly. But so what? As long as he survived, pain would come later anyway.
But still, each shot delivered decent power.
And Lindel was seeing that directly now. Part of the formation broke, and the barrier’s center shook. Before Lindel could even understand the situation, he was dragged into the next phase.
Lindel gave up one arm to Skyle’s sword and rushed straight toward the Prince.
His left arm fell away, drawing a curve of blood in the air. But he didn’t stop. His gaze rushing toward the Prince was blind and simultaneously irrational. It was an emotionless charge close to “duty.”
And at that moment.
“‘Coagulation. Seizure. Absorption.'”
The Prince muttered.
His voice was low, close to a whisper. But the magic activated precisely. It was a method of twisting refined mana structure and pulling the target’s energy toward himself by distorting it. A pressure as if “drawing out the insides.”
And immediately, part of Lindel’s mana was pulled like a surging wave.
Lindel’s eyes widened at the reaction of feeling his insides being emptied. For a half-demon composed of mana by nature, having mana stolen was shaking the foundation of existence. That was fear equivalent to death.
“Impossible! How can vermin like you use that thing!”
Lindel shouted. It was a cry close to a scream. That was both anger and confusion. An instinctive reaction toward someone looking down from above in a way he didn’t understand.
“The listening vermin is being too surprisingly hurt.”
Ersen said with a light laugh. Those words flew slowly and precisely to Lindel’s ear. It was emotionless mockery and simultaneously—a final declaration sent to a “powerless enemy.”
Before Lindel could even let out a single scream, one wall of the warehouse collapsed explosively.
“Archduke!”
Before he could even catch his breath, Ersen shouted first. Though it was right after intense combat, his voice was rather clear and distinct. A voice somewhere worried, unlike someone who had taken control of the situation. The Prince was always like that. He spoke language where situation and emotion were misaligned.
“Are you alright?”
Skyle’s answer was brief and plain as usual. But his eyes were different. His usually gentle, moistly drooping eyes were cool just for this moment. Though he was responding gently on the surface, his gaze was following Ersen’s movements without missing anything.
“Yeah. This side is finished. The Archduke isn’t hurt?”
Ersen spoke as if he had no injuries. However, his tone unconsciously carried traces of exhaustion. The effort not to be caught was obvious. The more he tried, the more it showed.
Skyle answered gently while his eyes gleamed coolly at Ersen’s unexpected movements.
“It’s settled.”
Literally so. Just moments ago, besides Lindel who had given up his arm and charged, the two half-demons who had followed Lindel had already lost their lives to his sword. It was when not even a few minutes had passed since combat began.
Even until the moment the sword crossed their bodies, they probably didn’t know they had died. It was too fast and too precise. And that was typical of the person called Skyle.
Ersen slowly exhaled.
His shoulders sank down as if deflating for a moment. Whether from released tension or consciousness of limits. That breath wasn’t coming out evenly, but expelled like pushed-out emotions.
His lips were pale white.
Clearly, just before entering intense combat, he had his usual complexion. However, after the absorption magic activated, Ersen’s face rapidly paled. His eye area was faintly red, and the color in his lips had noticeably disappeared.
“Your Highness. You don’t look well.”
Skyle said in a gentle voice, somewhere coldly.
That gentleness wasn’t affection but warning. The more he suppressed emotions, the more carefully refined his speech became. Even in situations like now where his insides felt like they were turning over, he didn’t sharpen a single letter. But his eyes were already drawing conclusions.
The Prince tilted his head slightly and smiled brightly as if he knew nothing.
It was a familiar smile. He always wore that expression during combat, in dangerous moments. As if saying he was fine. But the thin crack hidden within was clearly visible to Skyle.
The absorption magic placed a great burden on his stamina.
Ersen’s body wasn’t originally strong. The flesh harboring Eris’s legacy had unstably composed mana circuits, and emotion-based mana consumption operated by gnawing at the body.
Skyle, noticing this, immediately approached his side.
He quickly closed the distance. The moment he stood right next to the Prince, he didn’t miss that Ersen’s fingertips were trembling minutely. And that his breathing was very slightly irregular.
“That item, it would be better not to use it anymore. It’s dangerous.”
Skyle’s words were firm. He left no room for vague possibilities. This was a strong warning. Normally, the Archduke would have used roundabout language rather than direct expression. But now he had brought out an expression close to “prohibition of use.”
In fact, even Marcus rarely touches half-demon exclusive weapons.
They were tools that dangerous. Though the effects were excellent, they could temporarily paralyze the user’s nervous system and twist the flow of mana within the body to cause mental collapse. In other words, the “medicinal effect” was great but the “side effects” were fatal.
‘Once or twice might be fine, but the real problem is the tendency to become addicted to the magical tool’s mana.’
Skyle thought.
‘But looking at him using it now, no matter how I look at it, it doesn’t seem like he’s only used it once or twice.’
He didn’t think that magical tool would be any different.
There was only one route for Prince Ersen to obtain magical tools. Eris’s relics. Then wasn’t the result as clear as fire?
‘Again, acting like there’s no tomorrow.’
A Prince who showed strange physical reactions related to mana would break down even more easily.
Someone who knew that would use it carefully even in the most urgent situations. However, the current Ersen was one step away from such judgment. No, perhaps he had gotten closer. More than before.
“I’m fine.”
But Ersen didn’t seem inclined to listen.
Yes, perhaps all the problems started from there.
Unable to cut away the Prince, and ultimately acting as if he had become his very heart—all the moments that followed.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
