Chapter 29

The moment Yuwon gripped the dagger in his hand, the atmosphere completely shifted.

His five senses sharpened to an impossible edge, every single muscle fiber of his body infused with inner power, ready to unleash destruction at any time.

A pleasant tension spread through Yuwon’s entire body like ink soaking into cloth. His whole being was wrapped in taut energy, like a fully drawn bowstring.

The easy composure he had carried, as though out for a leisurely stroll, was gone without a trace. Yuwon had become a single blade.

Black flames flickered above his dagger.

“Come.”

The enemies stepped forward, slowly tightening their circle around Yuwon in unison.

And just as their steps drew half a pace closer—Yuwon suddenly dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

No, it was hard to tell whether he had dropped or leapt upward—he vanished from sight in an instant, accompanied by a sound that made it unclear which direction he had gone.

‘Where did he—?!’

The instant they lost sight of him, it was over.

Puk―!

Yuwon’s dagger tore through the blackened air and plunged straight into an enemy’s heart.

“Guh, gkh…!”

The struck warrior widened his eyes in disbelief, staring down at his wound. Yet nothing changed when he looked again.

A handle was sticking out of the left side of his chest.

Pak―!

Yuwon roughly seized that handle—no, the dagger—and wrenched it free. From the heart, blood blackened by poison spurted out like a fountain.

“One.”

Yuwon’s words, and his voice—neither sounded like that of someone who had just taken a life.

Even a professional butcher would not speak so calmly while doing his work. Yuwon counted in a flat, emotionless tone, as if he had merely swatted a flying mosquito.

That voice made the warriors’ spines crawl.

‘What the hell! Where did this monster come from—?!’

Terror abruptly reared its head in their minds. Black sword energy they had never heard or seen before, and speed beyond what the eye could follow.

And the masked man who killed as easily as crushing flies—he brought upon them a fear they had never known.

They were trained men, so that fear did not immediately show on their faces, but it was clearly unraveling their composure from within.

“Y-you…! Don’t just stand there—kill him! Even if we were ambushed, we still outnumber him!”

Their leader, sensing the ominous shift in the air, forced courage into his trembling subordinates.

Yet despite his shout, none of them dared to move forward. They only hesitated.

“You idiots! What are you saving the poison for?! One stab and he’s a dead man! Just charge in and stick him! Anyone behind me who doesn’t move—my blade will get to you first!”

With that roar, the enemy leader lunged forward. His force proved that his words had not been for show.

“Uwaaaah―!”

Crude as his speech was, his swordsmanship was decent. The subordinates who had been frozen moments before raised their daggers high and followed close behind him.

‘He knows how to handle his men, and his own skills aren’t bad either…’

As the focused assault rushed in from all sides, Yuwon didn’t dodge. He charged straight toward them.

‘Unlucky opponent.’

Kwaang―!

The moment Yuwon’s thought ended, many clashed as one at a single point.

In Yuwon’s left hand appeared a short dagger, held in reverse grip—something unseen until now, drawn in that fleeting instant he had dashed forward.

The enemies thrust their blades all at once, resolved to land at least a single fatal blow.

Four daggers of identical size targeted Yuwon simultaneously—one aimed for his head, another for his neck, one for his right shoulder, and the last slipped in half a beat late toward his lower body.

Chaeng―! Chaeng-chaeng-chaeng―!

The sound of steel colliding overlapped several times, sparks flying with each clash.

Yuwon’s entire body, filled with inner power, moved at a speed that no human should possess.

‘Two.’

The dagger and short blade in his hands moved far faster than the enemy attacks, driven purely by instinct. He blocked every strike completely.

And in that same motion, he attacked. As his dagger deflected an enemy’s weapon, it slithered up along the blade like a serpent climbing a tree, then stabbed into the hand gripping it.

‘Three.’

A single strike, one kill. Yuwon did not wait for the poison to finish them—he pressed the attack even harder.

Puk!

His dagger pierced an enemy’s nape, and his short blade buried itself into another’s eye. A merciless confirmation.

The limbs of the men, sliced apart by sword energy, sprayed blood as they twitched—then blackened and rotted away before their owners’ very eyes.

“Four.”

Yuwon counted the fourth, as though pronouncing a death sentence.

His short blade and dagger cleaved through the blackened air. The dusky light of his weapons painted the night darker than the darkness itself.

Somewhere within the Third Prince’s palace.

“…All of them are dead?”

“T-that is… I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, but it is not that they are dead—merely that all contact has been lost…”

Bang―!

The Third Prince slammed the desk with such fury it nearly splintered. The terrified servant swallowed the rest of his words whole, afraid for his life.

“Damn your excuses and hollow courtesies! Just answer what I ask!”

Furious, the Third Prince’s magical power surged around him. His robes fluttered helplessly under the pressure of the rising mana, and blue electric currents crackled and shattered in the air beside him.

The servant, who had attended the Third Prince for years, had never once seen him this enraged.

Terrified, the servant prostrated himself flat on the floor, curling in on himself as much as possible. If he didn’t, his head might well be forfeit.

“Y-yes! As you command!”

“I will ask again. You said all of them were dead?”

The Third Prince asked once more in a calmer tone. Yet despite his voice softening, the mana he had drawn up remained as volatile as before.

“There were… a few traces of blood, but that was all. Nothing else was left behind—no clues at all. The attendants who had infiltrated the Fifth Prince’s Palace were the same. No word, no message—completely cut off and missing, Your Highness.”

Even in his fear, the servant did his duty as best he could.

“Cut off? Those who haven’t missed a single report in almost ten years suddenly vanish without a trace? Do you think I don’t know what that means? Or are you mocking me?”

The Third Prince’s rage, which had seemed to calm for a moment, flared up once again. The servant hastily begged for forgiveness.

“Forgive me, Your Highness! This foolish one would never dare to insult you. If my words have displeased you, it is only due to my own ignorance. Please, grant me your mercy…”

“Enough! I’ve heard enough!”

The Third Prince roared. He knew full well the servant had done nothing wrong, but the fury twisting his insides was beyond control.

These were the spies the Third Prince had planted years ago—long before anyone paid the slightest attention to the Fifth Prince.

They had each secured important posts within the Fifth Prince’s Palace and were performing their roles with great effectiveness.

From five years to nearly ten, they had not made a single mistake. Yet within just two days, every one of them had vanished as if on cue.

‘Damn it! I’ve only myself to blame. This is what happens when you trust a cat to guard fish.’

The Third Prince bit his lower lip hard, venting his frustration, but he could not calm his anger.

‘That bastard Second Prince—he’s behind this!’

That was the only thought that came to mind. The moment he yielded command under the Second Prince’s thinly veiled threats, all his men had been wiped out.

To him, it was beyond reasonable doubt—this was surely the Second Prince’s doing.

There had been the matter at the banquet not long ago, and that same Second Prince had always despised their youngest brother. The Third Prince had trusted him nonetheless—and been stabbed in the back.

‘That lightning-struck bastard! You dare use our youngest brother as an excuse to strike at me? I’ll tear you to pieces!’

He had always hated the Second Prince’s condescending gaze and tone—the way he looked down on everyone except the Crown Prince. But he had endured it, thinking the time was not yet right.

‘And this is my reward? Fine. I won’t sit still and take this—this is war!’

He couldn’t just let it go. Even if he couldn’t repay twofold, he had to at least return one strike for every one he received.

If he appeared weak, it was over. If he was struck, he had to make them bleed in return—that was the law of survival.

There was no prey easier to hunt than one that didn’t even twitch when stepped on. If he faltered here, his brothers, who had long hidden their fangs, would pounce and tear him apart.

‘Urgh…! You dare use our youngest brother as a pretext to attack me?! Fine, let’s see how far you can go, you bastard!’

Grinding his teeth until his jaw ached, the Third Prince’s face turned crimson, his brown eyes bloodshot with rage.

‘That bastard will never admit it. He’ll feign ignorance, saying something about how the youngest was stronger than expected. I’ll never stand for that.’

He could already picture the shameless excuses the Second Prince would spew.

The faces of the subordinates who had loyally served him for years flashed through his mind.

Some he knew by face but not by name; others, by name but not by face. But now, all of them were surely dead.

The Third Prince’s lips trembled violently with anger.

“At once…”

“Command us, Your Highness. We await your orders.”

“Summon every mage corps currently under my command, and bring the warriors who will guard them. Once preparations are complete, we will march immediately.”

“P-pardon…? Your Highness?”

“If you value your life, do not make me repeat myself. You heard me correctly.”

The servant prostrated before the prince trembled as if struck by lightning.

‘At last… His Highness is moving…!’

The Third Prince was moving!

The one who had quietly strengthened his base all this time, like a turtle hidden within its shell, had finally drawn his sword.

In terms of pure political support, he might fall short of the First and Second Princes, but in direct combat power under his own command, the Third Prince was no less formidable.

The factions supporting the First and Second Princes were powerful nobles whose individual influence could not be ignored. Yet they held their military power tightly within their own hands, and unless a civil war broke out, they would not easily lend it out.

Of course, the other two princes each possessed their own forces, but those forces were hardly equal to the might of their noble supporters.

The Third Prince’s mage corps, however, was different.

Receiving the full backing of the Magic Tower, the Third Prince’s following might be small, but the immediate military strength at his command rivaled that of his elder brothers—and even slightly surpassed the Crown Prince in pure battle potential.

The flower of the battlefield, the very heart of firepower—the mage corps was under his control.

And now, the Third Prince had lit the fuse with his own hand.

The bloodstorm that began in the Fifth Prince’s Palace spread outward, raining crimson.

The Third Prince, drenched in that rain, began to move.

Beasts that had hidden their fangs and claws at the scent of blood began, one by one, to bare them once more.