Crown Prince Sells Medicine

“Get off. Get off. Just get off.”

“……Ouch! Gah! Ouch!”

Crash! Bang! Boom!

The strikes continued incessantly. As if irritated, Raciel’s massive arm moved forcefully, as if attempting to rid itself of a stubborn blemish stuck to his finger. However, it proved not as easy to remove as he had thought.

Whenever this occurred, Javillon, who clung to his arm, fluttered in the air before crashing to the ground. Nevertheless, he adamantly refused to release his grip. Of course, it wasn’t by Javillon’s own choice.

‘I… I am… Ouch…!’

It’s unjust.

He had just triggered his final resort. His initial intention had been to conclude the escort with the dark-hair. Yet, he had inadvertently grabbed the intruding crown prince, which was why he couldn’t let go. That was all.

‘Why must I… be in this situation…?’

Tears began to well up in his eyes. However, before the tears could fully form, they scattered into the air, driven by the strong centrifugal force and gravity.

Kwaang-!

“……Gah-huk!”

He felt suffocated. Was a bone broken? He couldn’t discern. His entire body ached, and he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was fractured. Moreover, he wasn’t granted a moment of mental respite. The crown prince’s enormous arm lifted unceremoniously.

‘Just end it right now…!’

Kwaang!

“……Ugh-geuk!”

It was wretched. Had he spent his entire life just to end up like this? Competing against countless individuals, engaging in covert plots, eliminating most of them, and clawing his way up to this point? Initiating a rebellion and sending even more lives to the battlefield?

It felt hollow.

If he were to meet his end here, what would the lives sacrificed by his hand have signified? The purpose of those offered as sacrifices to his dream? He didn’t know. Only a futile laughter escaped.

‘Heh…… Heh heh……!’

Suddenly, a conversation he had with the crown prince disguised as the saint military officer came to mind. Back then, he had posed a question to the crown prince to test him, and the response had been unexpected.

‘Is a country only sustained through someone’s blood and sacrifice?’

At that moment, he had been unable to reply due to the unexpected nature of the question. It had struck him to his core, and he had concealed his inner turmoil.

But not anymore.

Now, he could answer.

Because he was ending up like this.

Because he was facing his demise like this.

Now, he comprehended.

‘Originally… that’s what a country is.’

It remains the same now. He was the one making the sacrifice. By meeting a pitiable death here, by being engraved in history as a rebel, by becoming a symbol of infamy that would endure for generations.

He was offering his life as a blood sacrifice. To leave behind a story for this country and its people. Regardless of how that story would be interpreted.

‘Isn’t that so…?’

Javillon turned his head, barely having any strength left. He directed his gaze. The spot where his gaze landed had his adversary standing in shock.

The first in line to the throne of the Anbouaz royal family.

It was Princess Adeline.

She was gazing up at Raciel in utter disbelief.

“What is this…”

She couldn’t believe it. Neither the sudden transformation of the crown prince into a giant, nor the sight of him treating Swordmaster Javillon like a plaything and smacking him down to the ground. It felt as if she were trapped in the most absurd and bizarre dream.

That’s why.

“……Hey.”

Thump thump.

She raised her uninjured arm and gently prodded the person beside her. Startled, the rebel royal guard knight snapped out of his reverie at her touch.

The princess inquired of the rebel royal guard knight, “Is what I’m witnessing actually happening?”

“It appears so, ma’am,” the rebel knight replied tentatively. The princess gazed at the rebel knight, and he met her gaze. Just moments ago, they had been locked in combat, clashing swords and steel gauntlets, as if their lives depended on it. But now? The battle seemed utterly devoid of purpose.

“If what I’m witnessing is indeed real, then it appears it’s all come to an end.”

“…I concur.”

The rebel knight obediently nodded, the resolve draining from his grip.

Clang!

His longsword fell to the ground with a resounding yet subdued sound. He had willingly relinquished his weapon.

The noise roused the other rebel royal guard knights on the field.

“….”

Clang, clang.

One by one, the rebel knights who had been staring blankly at the grim scene also began to lower their swords. They soothed their steeds and dismounted, placing their helmets on the ground.

The message was clear.

The gesture signaled a lack of desire to continue fighting, a sign of surrender.

The princess was overwhelmed with emotion. She turned her gaze upward again to Raciel. At that moment, Raciel loaded a massive projectile with one hand, aiming it at the stuck Javillon.

‘Yes, you know how when you’re driving and pick your nose at a stoplight, and then a booger gets stuck to your finger? No matter how much you shake your hand, it won’t come off. This was the best solution for times like that.’

Roll down the window slightly and use the projectile from the other hand to dislodge the booger!

Recalling his memories in Korea, Raciel raised his arm. The dangling Javillon was hoisted up in a limp manner. He aimed relentlessly at such a Javillon. He exerted force with the fingers that held the loaded projectile.

He summoned all his strength, focused it, even condensed his spirit. The remaining time for his enlarged state was dwindling.

[Current remaining Gigantification time: 31 seconds]

‘Just fall off already!’

He chanted as if casting a spell.

He unleashed the concentrated power of the projectile. No, he fired it.

Boom!

“…Fu*!”

That was the end.

Javillon, struck by the projectile on his side, tumbled off from the arm. He executed a graceful 1,580-degree somersault in mid-air for about 30 meters, displaying a final flourish before crashing. A cloud of dust billowed and then settled.

But Javillon couldn’t rise. He lay there, resembling a shattered piece of Lego, or a fragment of contemporary art.

It marked the woeful downfall of a formidable swordmaster.

The kingdom’s army at Balua Fortress was agitated by this spectacle. Particularly King Merovingian, who had been observing the situation on the plain from the fortress watchtower, inadvertently clenched his fist.

“Is what… I am witnessing… truly reality?”

He couldn’t believe it. He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him or if something was amiss with his morning meal.

But no.

It was undeniably real.

Even when he vigorously rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrinkled hand, the scene remained unchanged.

‘How is this possible…’

The man lying in the dust. He hadn’t known until the chase began, but now it was evident. Even from a distance, the radiance of the aura he emitted was too dazzling. And there was only one individual in the entire rebel force capable of radiating such an aura.

‘Javillon.’

The audacious rebel who had brandished a sword at him. A swordmaster not easily defeated. Yet, Javillon had fallen so helplessly. Moreover, at the hands of an unnaturally gigantic being.

The Swordmaster guarding the king, Sir Idris, spoke with a trembling beard.

“It’s difficult to believe, Your Majesty, but it seems neither a welcoming spell nor an illusion.”

“Indeed, which makes it even more incredible.”

The King’s voice quivered as well.

Who could dare to assert that this situation was real, where a colossal man had suddenly materialized and swatted away the rebel army’s Swordmaster, Javillon, as if swatting a fly? If someone had arrived an hour ago with such a tale, he might have dismissed it as nonsense and thrown the storyteller in jail.

But this was reality.

It was unbelievably real.

Furthermore, that gargantuan man resembled the Crown Prince of Magentano! That was the greatest conundrum!

‘Why in the world?’

What was the Crown Prince of Magentano doing here? When had he arrived? What was his intent?

Countless questions swarmed his mind, yet answers eluded him. The more he pondered, the more perplexed he grew.

Therefore, King Merovingian resolved to focus solely on the confirmed facts.

“Prepare the army for departure!”

Whether or not the Crown Prince of Magentano had assumed a colossal form was inconsequential. Why he had manifested in this manner was equally irrelevant. Those matters could be elucidated later.

On the contrary, the civil war?

It could end at this very moment. It was an opportunity now that the rebel leader had been defeated. Letting it slip through their fingers would be foolish.

“Open the gate!”

The previously sealed gates of Balua Fortress swung open. The marching army’s drums reverberated. With each beat, Raciel’s heart pounded in tandem.

“Ha, hahaha…”

He had succeeded.

Rebel knights showing signs of surrender. The kingdom’s army preparing to march. He could discern it from their expressions.

‘The rebels… are about to crumble.’

The disheveled sight of Javillon came into view. The once formidable Swordmaster had fallen pitifully. Seeing him, it brought to mind a concept from the “Devil Sword Emperor.”

‘In this world, Swordmasters were an absolute asymmetric force, no doubt.’

Indeed.

In modern Earth terms, a Swordmaster was comparable to a nuclear weapon. Because only a Swordmaster could counter another Swordmaster, it was even more pronounced.

If two nations went to war, and one side lacked a Swordmaster? That war would be swiftly decided. A single Swordmaster could infiltrate the enemy’s command and eliminate them with ease.

So, to deter conflicts, possessing a Swordmaster was imperative. That was an undeniable truth. Yet, the rebel army had just lost its sole Swordmaster. In contrast, the royal army still retained one.

Consequently, the odds had distinctly tipped in their favor. Recognizing this, the guards of the rebel leader were likely to surrender. The rebel forces on the far side of the plains were also likely in great disarray.

“…Sigh.”

A sigh escaped him. A sudden wave of accumulated fatigue washed over Raciel. In a corner of his vision, a warning window displayed that the remaining time for his giant form was steadily decreasing.

Meanwhile, a barrage of notifications filled the other side of his vision.

Ding-dong!

[You have had a rare experience, competing against the Swordmaster with your pure inner mana.]

[Furthermore, you have achieved a miraculous and decisive victory at the culmination of this extraordinary battle.]

[This sequence of events has been etched into your mana circle as a special historical moment, laying the groundwork for explosive growth.]

[The rank of Asrahan Core Technique has increased.]

[Skill Name: Asrahan Core Technique]

[Level: Double Circle Lv.1]

[Mana Amplification Rate: 400%]

… Screeeech!

As the notifications appeared, a strand of mana circle surrounding his heart began to whirl vigorously. It roared, bifurcated, and circled his heart, intersecting like an “X.” An unparalleled, immense power, unlike anything he had ever felt, filled the circumference of his heart.

However, he could no longer revel in this power. Additional congratulatory messages, reward notifications, and the cheers of his five senses faded into silence.

Because a blood-red warning message took precedence, obscuring all other notifications.

Ding-dong!

[Remaining Time for Giant Form: 0 minutes 0 seconds]

A warning sound reverberated in his mind.

A warning message dominated his entire field of vision.

[The time for being a giant has elapsed.]

[The red sunflower seed you consumed is not intended for humans, but rather a supplementary food for Phantom beasts.]

[Severe side effects will manifest in your body as the giant form dissipates.]

[For the next 120 hours (5 days) from this point on, you will be in a comatose state.]

[Goodnight?]

Thud!

“…!”

A sensation akin to being struck coursed through him.

Simultaneously, he felt his strength drain away, leaving his entire body weakened. The world swiftly blurred. The advancing kingdom’s army, a fleeting glimpse of King Merovingian at the forefront, and the hurriedly supportive hands of Demian and the princess—all registered in his fading awareness. His head drooped. He couldn’t sustain himself any longer. His knees gave way. His consciousness plummeted to the ground.

‘But… it’s alright.’

A smile formed on his lips, unbeknownst to him.

He had never anticipated accomplishing such feats in a civil war he had only joined to eke out a bit more life. He had never expected to find himself in a situation where he would be unconscious for five days. The more he contemplated it, the more absurd it appeared.

Yet one thing he could assert:

The civil war had concluded.

(To be Continued)

To read ahead 👇

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