169 Monster [Prince Grant]
169 Monster [Prince Grant]
The banners of Blasten, Feenno, Lomarel, Thornland, Goldburg, and Contine fluttered behind me as our procession advanced through the thinning forest. Their colors snapped sharply in the wind, proud crests carried by proud fools. They believed they were marching toward glory. In truth, they were marching to their appointed graves. I almost pitied them. Almost. The idea of heredity, of noble blood granting authority, had stained this world for generations. Someone had to end it, and it might as well be me.
“That’s right,” murmured the voice in my ear, warm as breath and sharp as temptation. “A world stuck in this level of civilization is a dreary thing. But first, you must kill that madman. Dr. Time is clever, slippery. Do not underestimate him.”
The devil had been with me ever since I awoke from my coma. He was my teacher, my adviser, and the whisper that peeled back the ugliness of this world layer by layer. Whether it was truly a devil, a fragment of my own mind, or a being beyond comprehension didn’t matter. Its guidance had never once failed me.
“I’ve prepared as much as I can,” I said under my breath as I rode. “It was unfortunate losing Hall and Shadow, but I still have the slave, Abner, the mercenaries, the spymaster, and you. I don’t see myself losing.”
The devil gave a soft snort. “Once, I thought the same. But truly? Devil? You insist on calling me that.”
I allowed myself a faint smile. “Please don’t take offense. It’s simply my way of staying sane, considering everything you’ve promised me.”
“Oh, I am wounded,” the voice teased, “but I accept your quirks. And I remind you again, I have not lied. You have immortality waiting for you, limitless power, wealth, influence… all of it within reach. A fitting reward for the burdens you must carry. Democracy requires blood to take root, but I believe you can bring your world out of the Dark Ages with fewer corpses than most.”
The road widened as we reached the slope of the mountain. I rode ahead while the larger bulk of the army looped around to flank the dragon’s supposed lair. A pigeon descended and landed neatly on my gloved hand. I untied the message and scanned the contents. It was from the repurposed bandit coalition the Royal Guard had forced into service. They claimed they had taken their positions and were ready to encircle the army from afar.
“Hm. I wonder if Nielong is slacking again,” I muttered. “I gave him a woman to reward him, and to watch him, but I haven’t heard a whisper of progress. Not even from her.”
“What do you think, Devil?”
“Your victory is assured,” the voice crooned. “After all… I am on your side.”
The trees thinned further until a gray mouth of a cave loomed ahead. The nobles gathered behind me, armor gleaming, expressions taut with a mix of excitement and fear. The script was simple: I was supposed to deliver a grand speech about valor, unity, and the triumph we would achieve by slaying the dragon inside.
But as we approached, the atmosphere twisted.
Something was wrong.
A soldier shouted, stumbling back. Several nobles drew their weapons in reflex.
Then I saw it.
A body lay at the cave entrance, slumped, head at an unnatural angle, armor cracked, blood pooled beneath him. The metallic scent drifted toward us on the cool morning wind. The sigil on the corpse’s cloak was unmistakable.
A Royal Guard.
Lady Thornland’s voice sliced through the hush. “Your highness… what is the meaning of this? Why is a Royal Guard lying dead at the entrance?”
Every lord and lady rode forward, their horses stamping nervously as they surrounded the fallen Royal Guard. The cave loomed like a throat swallowing light, and the corpse at its entrance ruined everything. The Royal Guard were supposed to wait inside, hidden deep within the cave until the nobles entered. The hypnotized and obedient bandit coalition should already be encircling the mountains to cut off escape. Everything had been arranged. Everything had been perfect.
So why was a Royal Guard dead outside?
The nobles muttered sharply among themselves, their voices overlapping.
“Why is a Royal Guard here…?”
“Was he scouting?”
“No one informed us of an outpost.”
“Where’s the rest of his unit!?”
Suspicion was a spark, and I saw it spreading rapidly.
Someone called out, “Bring forward Abner! He was Royal Guard once, so he should know something!”
Abner, disheveled from his supposed survival, nudged his horse through the crowd. His eyes flicked to the body too quickly, and the nobles noticed.
A lady snapped, “Abner, explain this. Why is a Royal Guard lying here dead?”
Abner bowed. “The Royal Guard were ordered to make base here, my lady. They were positioned as an advanced outpost.”
The moment he finished, something in me cracked. I couldn’t believe he dared spout such a story.
“What are you saying, Abner!?” I shouted. “How dare you speak such lies!?”
“But your highness,” a lord murmured, “the body is here. How can we ignore that?”
Eyes shifted. They no longer searched the corpse. Instead, they searched me.
That was when the devil’s whisper curled into my ear, patient and amused. “Someone is using Empathy to stir distrust. I cannot detect their exact location, but their range is wide. Your mental suggestions remain, but suspicion grows. Handle this carefully.”
I clenched my reins. Fine. If they wanted a villain, I’d give them one they could understand.
“Treachery!” I pointed at Abner. “You killed this man!”
“I did,” Abner answered without hesitation, turning every head again. His calmness rattled me. “Because he was a traitor, your highness. Just like you.”
For a heartbeat, the world fell silent.
Lord Feenno barked, “How dare you! Prince Grant is your liege lord!”
Before I could retort, Lord Contine stiffened in his saddle. His eyes widened, his gift of the mind catching something the others could not.
“We’re surrounded,” he shouted. “House of Contine! With me! We’ll break through and settle this in the Royal Court! Move!”
The Contine riders wheeled away instantly. Panic rippled through the nobles, and every house reacted in kind, spurring their horses and pulling their elites with them. They weren’t loyal to me. They weren’t loyal to Abner. They were loyal to self-preservation, the one thing I had counted on them abandoning once fear and awe seized them.
But instead of awe, they scented a trap.
They fled.
And all my meticulous preparation crumbled at the sight of that single corpse. Months of hypnosis, manipulation, bandit repurposing, and Royal Guard planning were all rendered useless, because of Abner’s interference.
“It cannot end like this.”
Even if they ran to the Royal Court, the “king” sat comfortably under my hypnosis. I could still win that way. But it would cost too much time. I needed the noble bloodline severed now, while they were gathered and vulnerable.
I could not let this moment slip from my grasp.
I rose in my saddle, teeth clenched, voice ripping out of me.
“My people! TO ARMS!”
The mountains answered with echoes, and the trap meant for the nobles snapped shut on chaos instead.
The bandit coalition surged from the ridges the moment I gave the order. Their horses thundered downhill, crashing into the nobles’ scattered formations. Foot soldiers scrambled to form a line, but the charge tore into them before they could arrange anything. Screams blended with steel, dust, and the crazed howls of men who believed they served a divine cause.
Several gifted erupted into the chaos like sparks in oil.
Jon, the giant with invulnerability, barreled straight through the mercenaries who had refused my hypnosis. Their weapons bounced off his skin as if they were toys. He crushed one rider with a backhand and ripped another straight off his horse.
Renry, lean and ruthless, carved her way through grouped soldiers. Her movement gift let her twist and weave around blades, while her loyal mercenaries kept pace, hacking down anyone too slow to dodge.
Ernesto charged Lord Feenno with a bellow, slamming the man from his saddle and snapping his neck in the dirt, not even bothering to unsheathe his sword.
As for Abner? Of course he ran toward the cave.
He shouted over the carnage, “Lords and Ladies of Almer Kingdom! If you want to survive—enter the cave!”
To my annoyance, his reputation saved him. Three noble houses, weaker and carrying smaller retinues, chose to follow him on foot. Fear drove them. Trust in Abner sealed the decision.
The devil whispered, amused, “Remember the Empath. Even a lesser psychic can push emotions. Doubt is a simple thing to encourage in frightened minds.”
Of course I knew. He had taught me everything about power classifications and how they interacted. Empathy might not dominate thought like hypnosis, but it shaped fear, trust, and suspicion with irritating ease.
I snapped, “Jon! Renry! Ernesto! After them!”
The mercenaries stormed into the cave after the fleeing nobles.
I dropped from my horse and pushed hypnosis inward, flooding my body with artificial adrenaline. My ten rings hummed at my fingertips, each one a weapon, and each one a disaster waiting to happen in the wrong hands. One held teleportation. Others offered strength, speed, regeneration, and elemental tricks. I was a walking arsenal.
Lady Lomarel rushed me first. Perfect target.
With sharpness activating in my sword, I swung once and beheaded her cleanly.
“You bastard!” she shrieked, grabbing the head and slamming it back onto her neck before launching a spray of poisoned blood. “Die!”
The droplets stung as they hit my skin. Her blood was venom distilled over years of deliberate poisoning. It would kill most people on contact.
But regeneration flared in my rings, burning the toxins away as fast as they entered my system.
She stared at me in disbelief. “How is this possib—”
She never finished. Super speed wrapped around my limbs and my blade flashed again and again until she fell apart in twitching chunks, unable to reform.
The devil roared with laughter. “Nothing beats being overgeared! HAHAHAHAHA!”
I blurred forward, reaching Contine before he could escape the bandit wave slowing him. His expression tightened, and he hurled himself upward with telekinesis, floating as lightly as a leaf.
“So you’ve finally shown your true colors!” he shouted. “Then it’s true you sold my sister like livestock to advance your schemes! She loved you!”
“Just a piece of trash in a long line of trash,” I said, forcing my body to flood with more adrenal strength. Regeneration mended my bruised throat as I built heat in my palm. I sheathed my sword for an instant, then drew it in one clean motion.
The blade clashed against the air, sparks forming into blazing arcs as pyrokinesis joined the cut.
“Burn and be severed.”
The sword sliced through his telekinetic grip like it was paper. A beam of fire-rimmed steel carved straight across his torso.
Contine’s body split open. Entrails dropped like wet ropes as he tumbled to the ground.
I landed hard, slid a few paces, and rose to watch him choke on his own breath.
He tried to speak a final word, but the blood in his lungs swallowed the sound.
"Monster,” I spoke aloud what I think I heard. “Hah~! Never been more accurate!”