“Are you listening to me?”

“I am.”

“What did I just say?”

“That I’m the last in line.”

The Black Prince started to say something but instead let out a heavy sigh.

“Fine… as long as you understand.”

I stared quietly at him.

I hadn’t meant to, but I had ended up glimpsing fragments of his past.

To my surprise, this prince had a romantic side.

Yes.

The last romantic of this age.

That was who our prince truly was.

And suddenly, that irritating face of his looked just a little different to me.

A miracle, really.

A miracle is something that bursts outward from within.

What does that even mean? I don’t know myself. It just sounded like something my sister used to say from time to time.

In any case, I could now understand—at least partly—why he was so ill-tempered, twisted, and abrasive.

Why his thoughts veered toward the extreme and the dangerous.

I had a general sense of it now.

But understanding is one thing; annoying is another.

And this bastard was still as insufferable as ever.

No matter what, my attitude toward him wasn’t going to change just because of this.

That was when the Heavenly Demon suddenly asked,

[Why are you so brash, boy?]

“…Me?”

[Yes. Who else is here besides you?]

I scratched my cheek, then replied,

“Isn’t it more strange for a back-alley orphan to grow up ‘proper’?”

[True enough.]

But I realized from his tone that he wasn’t saying this just to tease me.

“Master, what is it you’re really asking?”

[Nothing in particular.]

“‘Nothing in particular’?”

[Yes. Though you’re rude, foul-tempered, merciless toward your enemies, and there’s a spark of madness in your eyes…]

“……”

[Even so, you show compassion for others. You smile at children. You treat those who’ve shown you kindness with courtesy. And you instinctively avoid crossing a certain line. I wondered if there was some reason behind that. That’s why I asked.]

I fell silent.

In that instant, the image of a small child huddling in a dark alley flashed before my eyes.

It was a rainy day.

[Are you listening?]

“…Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

[I didn’t ask because I needed an answer right away. Just speaking my thoughts, that’s all.]

I slowly nodded.

“…Not now. I’ll tell you another time.”

[Very well.]

I shook my head, scattering the lingering thoughts, then spread out my Sense and directed it toward the knights on the other side of the arena.

The First Prince, who had been bickering with the Black Prince, was easily set aside in my mind.

Whether he was strong or not, I didn’t care.

Instead, I focused on the knights standing beside him, carefully examining the mana waves—the energy pulses—radiating from them.

I brushed over each one from head to toe, scrutinizing them one by one.

True, they could conceal some of their energy, so this wasn’t a perfect measure of strength.

But it was enough to roughly gauge their level.

“Hm.”

As expected, their presence was either fierce or heavy, without exception.

With each one I checked, I couldn’t help but feel impressed.

No wonder the Black Prince had said his knights were inferior in both quality and quantity to the First Prince’s. He hadn’t been exaggerating.

I’d thought the Black Knights were fairly strong, but compared to these, it was clear the Black Prince had been looking at things with sharp objectivity.

Just by the aura they released, these might be the strongest knights I’d encountered since arriving here.

After examining seven of them, I moved on to the eighth…

“…What the?”

This one’s energy wasn’t especially stronger than the rest, but something about it felt familiar.

The atmosphere he carried, the aura surrounding him—it was something I’d sensed before.

The ninth knight. The tenth knight.

Their energy wasn’t violent, but it was deep.

So deep I couldn’t peer into it.

It was like staring at a tranquil lake.

On the surface, the water rippled lightly, sunlight sparkling, serene and calm.

But in the depths—there was nothing but shadow, hiding whatever lurked within.

On the outside, they wore an ordinary mask, but in those depths was something vicious, concealed.

If anyone leapt in unaware, they’d be swallowed whole.

A chill ran up my spine.

Their faces were hidden beneath helmets, but even their silhouettes looked familiar.

One towering over two meters, another smaller but lean and quick, and one in between.

Without meaning to, I muttered aloud,

“Damn… looks like I’m screwed.”

The Heavenly Demon chuckled darkly.

[Now this is getting interesting.]

Inside her helmet, Rutie stifled a laugh.

“Looks like he noticed.”

Behind the bars, Van Dyke finally lowered his gaze toward the opposite side.

“…Sharp one, isn’t he.”

Silent Victor simply turned his eyes to the blind swordsman.

“……”

Whether or not he knew he had drawn the intense stares of all three, the blind swordsman called out to Ashley.

“Lady Ashley.”

She had seemed familiar with the three royal knights when I’d seen her before.

That meant she should be able to recognize them for sure.

“Yes?”

Ashley had been staring fixedly at the upper side of the arena, where the king and the Knight of Frost were seated, as though searching for someone. She blinked, then turned to look at the blind swordsman.

He pointed toward the opposite side.

“Look at those men.”

Her gaze followed his finger, landing on the First Prince’s knights.

“Yes. Those are the First Prince’s knights. As I’ve told you, they’re not to be underestimated. Even you, Lord Ashuban, could suffer if you—”

“No, not them. Over there. The three whose aura feels different.”

“…Pardon? Who do you mean—”

Ashley narrowed her eyes, staring where Ashuban indicated. Then suddenly, she opened them wide in shock.

“Oh!”

She turned to him with trembling eyes.

“Lord Ashuban… surely you don’t mean—”

“What do you think, then?”

“This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I agree. But are you certain it’s them?”

“Yes. Their helmets hide their faces, and their weapons at the waist are different, but… the mana I sense is identical. Their builds also match well enough.”

Ashuban let out a hollow laugh.

“Who would’ve thought they’d stoop to this.”

He had expected that the Royal Knights might somehow interfere with the duel, but never like this.

To think the First Prince would actually be backed by Royal Knights—three of them, no less.

Ashley, shocked, covered her mouth with one hand and muttered,

“No wonder those three weren’t sitting up there. They were here all along…!”

“What is it, Lady Ashley?”

Sensing the tense mood, Count Hermann Stavanger and the Black Prince approached to ask.

Once Ashley explained, both of them were struck with disbelief.

“…Good heavens.”

“Are they truly insane?”

The moment the Black Prince confirmed the three Royal Knights in disguise on the opposite side, he snapped his head upward toward the royal platform.

There sat the king, calmly watching with a leisurely smile.

Father and son locked eyes.

The aged king idly spun his crown around his fingers, laughing quietly.

The Black Prince’s face twisted in fury.

Suddenly, the First Prince’s words came back to him.

“Pitiful fool. You don’t even know. You’ve already lost. You never had a chance of beating me from the start.”

Now he finally understood what those words meant.

Why the First Prince had been so confident.

Because their father—the senile old king—had already raised his son’s hand in victory, even before the duel began.

By gifting him the support of the Royal Knights.

This “duel” was nothing more than a ceremonial act in the succession ritual.

The Black Prince had suspected something was wrong when the five knights stationed in Valeria vanished without a trace.

For such powerful knights to be whisked away in silence, only one power could have been behind it.

But to this extent…!

Grit.

He clenched his teeth hard.

Yes, Madwoman Linda and the Phantom Thief had poisoned the three knights originally meant to compete.

So had their absence been filled with these three instead?

If not for the poison, would there have been no sudden replacement?

No. Unlikely.

The disappearance of the Valerian knights suggested the plan had been in place from the start.

If so—

Tap.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

“Calm yourself.”

The blind swordsman was staring straight at him.

Though his eyes were hidden behind a strip of black cloth, it felt as though his gaze pierced right through.

“Is this the time to be angry?”

“……”

Strangely enough, his voice had a calming effect.

He’s right.

Why was it that when everyone else was composed, this man was restless—and when everyone else was panicked, he was calm?

Because he was insane, perhaps.

“Don’t touch my body.”

The Black Prince smacked his hand away and exhaled, forcing his agitation down.

He heard a muttered complaint about “this annoying bastard,” but ignored it and thought instead,

Is this a disaster?

After firmly grasping the reality, he made a cold judgment.

Yes. This is a disaster.

Among their side, only one man could hope to defeat the Royal Knights.

Lady Ashley might hold her own against them, but victory was doubtful.

After all, their opponents were the Royal Knights of House Blake—among the finest of their order.

Fluffy—no, Sir Roetgel’s chances are slim as well.

In truth, the Black Prince wasn’t even sure Roetgel could defeat one of the First Prince’s knights, let alone a Royal Knight.

That was the sober truth.

Time had been too short, and before becoming Vlad’s master, Roetgel hadn’t even seemed stronger than his own Black Knights.

Which means…

The Black Prince turned to look at the man before him.

His conclusion was clear: this man would have to defeat all three Royal Knights.

“What are you staring at, you rude bastard?”

“……”

True, he had defeated the Knight of Frost—but not without cost.

He’d been bedridden for over a week afterward, left with injuries so severe he could only eat with one hand. His left arm had been utterly shattered.

It was fortunate his recovery was swift, otherwise…

The Count had claimed he toyed with the Knight of Frost, but the Black Prince had never believed such nonsense.

If he had truly toyed with him, then why had he remained unconscious for over a week?

It didn’t add up.

Meanwhile, the Knight of Frost had returned relatively intact—his clothes torn, blood frozen here and there, but otherwise unharmed.

Which means, after a brutal struggle, he had only barely managed to prevail.

And while that was impressive, could he really defeat three Royal Knights alone?

The Black Prince’s eyes narrowed as he examined them once more.

There was at least one small piece of good news.

The weapons at their waists were not their usual arms.

Perhaps a minimal disguise to conceal their identities—or perhaps an advantage to catch opponents off guard.

Helmets hastily thrown on, different weapons strapped at their sides.

A child’s game of hide-and-seek, yet there was nothing to be done about it now.

Raising objections would do nothing.

There was only one choice left: fight.

The Black Prince organized his thoughts swiftly, then placed a hand on the blind swordsman’s shoulder.

And with grave determination, he spoke.

“Devil.”

“What, bastard?”

“This battle depends on you.”

“……”

Ashuban glanced at him with a bored expression, then smacked his hand away.

“Don’t touch my body.”

“……”

(End of Chapter)

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