I Obtained the Final Boss' Power

Chapter 52 : The Crown Prince (3)

The Crown Prince (3)

Alber Bisted lacked days off.

Although he was no longer a child, he frequently had to step up to clean up after the messes Rejir caused.

To make matters worse, the Holy Nation's side constantly dug into his background, so he was busy erasing any traces tied to demons or demonkin.

On top of all this, an imperial order had been issued.

However, if anything, the emperor's command was worth obeying without complaint.

This was because, in reality, the true master of the empire was the Crown Prince.

"Thank you for accompanying me, sir Garce."

"No, I am the one who should be grateful for your guidance."

Alber and Garce greeted each other politely upon arrival at the site.

Behind them, the greenery was bathed in the morning sunshine, while ahead, the demon realm sprawled, filled with an oppressive gloom despite the rising sun.

Right at the center of this background stood a massive ruin that seemed to bear traces of a ritual.

Currently, soldiers from the 7th Legion, who had responded to the summons, were gathering at the center of these ruins.

The troops dispatched from the Imperial Court and the knights of the Bisted family were assisting in controlling them.

"Has His Highness the Crown Prince not come?"

Alber asked, and Garce was unable to hide his unpleasant expression as he replied.

"The aftereffects of the contract worsened due to the summoning of the Great Devil's gift."

"If those side effects worsen, isn't there a chance he might lose all the magic power he gained through the contract?"

"That's why we must ensure this plan succeeds as quickly as possible."

Orbel, born as the 1st Crown Prince of the Kilvus Empire.

He grew up receiving attention and great expectations as a member of the imperial family, but after turning ten, he was struck by a shocking realization.

Even the heirs of lesser nobles beneath his rank were born with magical talent—yet Orbel, the Crown Prince, lacked even that basic attribute.

Naturally, this sent shockwaves throughout the entire royal palace, and the Crown Prince's own reaction was indescribable.

No matter how hard he tried—no matter what tricks he attempted—it was simply unsolvable.

Efforts were made to keep the news from spreading, but the Crown Prince's sense of injustice remained.

Why? Why had he been cursed in such a way?

Had his previous life committed some great sin?

The Crown Prince always agonized, living in despair.

As that resentment grew and hardened, he began lashing out at the world.

His behavior became rough, and he displayed no sense of morality; not a single member of the Imperial Court could restrain him.

When faced with someone who annoyed him, he drove them to ruin; if someone seemed superior, he delighted in tormenting them until their final moments.

Should anyone criticize him for these actions, he would simply do the same to them.

So what?

The world betrayed him first, so why shouldn't he do the same?

However, no matter how much rage he vented at the world, there was something inside that could never be filled.

Whenever he met the heirs of other nobles, they always demonstrated the magical talents they'd been taught since childhood.

Some would conjure fireballs in the air with their magic; others would wield a sword cloaked in aura to display their valor.

'How enviable.'

What did it matter that he was of royal blood?

What did it matter to unleash his frustrations through power?

He couldn't even use basic magic power like them.

[Your Highness, what kind of magic do you mainly use?]

[Or have you taken up the sword? If you don't mind, I'd be grateful if you would spar with my aura!]

[I'm curious about Your Highness's magic power!]

[Could you show us, too?]

The more he heard such words, the more the Crown Prince's heart was torn apart.

This built up into further rage, which he vented by taking out his anger on them.

As a result, any noble house that happened to meet him seemed to vanish without a trace.

Magic power.

All he needed was magic power.

But why didn't he have it?

Why was it that others could boast about something so basic, but he didn't possess it?

Why.

Why, why.

Why, why, why, why, why, why.

Eventually, emperor Kilvus had no choice but to confine the Crown Prince to stop him from going utterly mad.

He was spared the direct, constant comparisons from the outside world, but nothing was fundamentally resolved.

The Crown Prince had no magic power.

That fact became embedded in reality as an undisputed truth.

Even so, in the mind of the eternally yearning Crown Prince, a voice began to echo.

For some reason, upon hearing that voice, the Crown Prince was able to truly smile.

Soon, the Crown Prince began behaving as meekly as he could, enough to make the emperor drop his guard; meanwhile, from behind the scenes, he acted according to the guidance of that mysterious voice.

The first place he reached by following the voice was this very ruin.

Through it, the Crown Prince finally found a solution.

He ordered the forces under his command to gather all sorts of people.

Of course, it wasn't truly anyone—they were all criminals.

Why use criminals?

Because he couldn't bring himself to sacrifice the innocent as offerings.

Was there not, conveniently, a legion where only criminals were gathered?

Thanks to this, the contract with the demon, which required human sacrifices, finally gave him what he had wished for all his life.

"Right now, one could say this ruin is everything to the Crown Prince."

"It's no coincidence His Highness heard the Great Devil's voice."

The Bisted family had, since long ago, secretly venerated demons.

Knowing this, it was the Crown Prince who first reached out to the Bisted family.

Convinced that the Crown Prince was a host for the demon, the Bisted family head had no choice but to follow him implicitly.

"You've worked especially hard, Family Head. You put in effort gathering the soldiers here through the 7th Legion and all."

"Yes, the shortage of 7th Legion troops occurred because of it. Although we managed to replenish them quickly."

The occasional lack of manpower in the 7th Legion had always been because of this.

Fortunately, it could be blamed on outbreaks of infighting among the brutal soldiers.

Any gaps in the legion's numbers were hastily filled.

By labeling innocent civilians as criminals.

"It took strenuous effort to brand so many with crimes. As suspicion increased, more and more people began digging into His Highness from behind the scenes."

"No need to apologize for that, Family Head."

Garce consoled Alber respectfully.

"Who truly deserve to apologize... are those ignorant fools who failed to understand the Crown Prince's pain and sought to rebel."

Then, narrowing his eyes, he spoke as if delivering a warning.

"Those people have no right to resent being labeled as criminals. No matter how much they mourn, do they think they can compare to the Crown Prince? They should be proud to be sacrificed."

"Indeed, that's true."

Alber nodded, agreeing that he was right.

It was good to find common ground, but there was one anxious issue.

"By the way, how much of the 7th Legion has gathered?"

"It seems more than half are here. The rest should arrive soon."

"The 5th Fortress—those Paruzan bastards—haven't joined yet."

The most anticipated unit had yet to arrive.

They would be there soon enough, but Alber couldn't help a sense of unease.

"The Great Devil's gift that His Highness most desperately wanted."

When the Crown Prince, whose contract had long since been sealed, was given a gift by the demon, he had to summon it himself, as the demon couldn't directly materialize to offer it.

Thanks to conducting the ceremony within the highly corrupted demon realm, the gift was successfully summoned.

While testing its purpose at Kaliion Fortress, however, it was stolen by Paruzan.

"I heard there's a unit currently refusing to hand over that gift."

"Yes, it's Paruzan Fortress."

Alber was well aware of information about Paruzan Fortress.

Once, those rebels were caught investigating His Highness and failed.

Now, it was said the leader of those rebels had risen to the rank of commander.

Would they really hand over the blueprint fragments so easily for His Highness's benefit?

"Foolish wretches. To refuse to repent and keep resisting! Do they still wish to blame His Highness for the deaths of their families and comrades?"

In the past, the Crown Prince had met with many heirs in an effort to build relationships with the nobility.

Driven mad by the power they boasted, he ended up hating them.

He secretly assassinated those heirs, even destroying their houses.

The survivors gathered and began to dig into the Crown Prince's secrets.

"Truly those trash have no equal. They belong with the criminals in the 7th Legion."

No matter how unfair, rebelling against His Highness was a serious crime.

Garce held this conviction deep in his heart.

Even if it had all started with themselves, in truth.

"The problem comes down to Paruzan."

"They'll arrive soon."

Alber, as family head, had lost much to Paruzan.

From Rejir—a dim, but blood-related scion—to the espionage unit he had dispatched.

What on earth was being hidden among them?

"Come to think of it, I have business with those scum from Paruzan Fortress myself."

When Garce mentioned the story of his missing younger brother, Alber flinched.

He had, at the time, orchestrated Garce's younger brother's raid on the Seifert domain.

"I'm sorry—regarding your brother, even now, I..."

"It's alright. I didn't expect him to just vanish, either. Which is why I must get to the bottom of it."

It was said the son of Lord Seifert was dragged to the 7th Legion's Paruzan Fortress.

He was determined to get answers through that boy.

To find out the whereabouts of his precious younger brother.

"Speak of the devil—they're coming."

As the saying goes, mention a tiger and it appears. Soldiers carrying the 5th Fortress's banner could be seen in the distance.

They were arriving in force, as per the Crown Prince's command to mobilize the main strength.

"Those guys!"

Alber's face brightened as he saw a certain detachment mixed in among the Paruzan troops.

It was precisely the espionage unit he had sent.

"You guys!"

The moment he saw them, Alber called out sharply.

As soon as the three spotted him, they jolted and shuffled over.

But their expressions were strange.

Normally unfazed by anything, they now looked petrified with fear.

"What on earth happened! And what was that message you sent about cutting ties?"

"...."

As Alber barked at them, the three's faces grew gloomy.

Like students standing before a teacher after a huge blunder.

"Well? Don't just stand there—answer me!"

With his voice raised to intimidation, the three suddenly looked on the verge of tears.

"Sniff... we're sorry. Sniff..."

"What...."

Just as he was feeling that something was wrong, the three abruptly began to cry as if reunited with lost family after decades.

"We truly are sorry!"

"Please forgive us just this once!"

"Wahhh!! Please spare us!!"

What is wrong with these bastards?

They had always carried out their duties with poker faces, their hands stained with blood.

Yet now, with this sudden change, Alber felt a chill smother his anger.

Garce, witnessing this, wondered if something was amiss and tilted his head.

At that moment, among the Paruzan soldiers, Garce spotted a group of boys and girls.

"Stop!"

Garce immediately rushed over to them.

There, a white-haired young knight, apparently their squad leader, replied.

"What is it?"

"I am Garce of Saber, the imperial guard unit. From here on, answer my questions."

"...."

Ignoring the other party's reaction, Garce questioned further.

"Do you know a boy named Louis?"

"That's me."

Fortunately, the answer came out smoothly, without any hesitation.

The boy in question had shown up himself.

"You're Louis? Louis Seifert!"

"I'm no longer a Seifert, but why are you looking for me?"

"There's something I want to ask you."

Garce placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and said,

"Do you remember anything about when your domain burned? Did you see any of the bandits who attacked then?"

"Bandits?"

Frowning as bad memories surfaced, Louis asked,

"Why do you want to know about them?"

Garce replied bluntly,

"Their leader was my younger brother."

The young knight standing nearby, scowling, glared at Garce.

To openly talk about the painful past of a ruined domain to a child—and to act so nonchalant as the culprit's older brother—was incomprehensible.

"Come on, tell me where they are now."

In contrast, Louis's lips curled into a smile at Garce's question.

"You say it was your brother?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Louis answered,

"Who knows?"