I Became the Youngest Prince in the Novel
Chapter 6

Night of the Hunt II

“We’re under atta—”

A dagger sank into the knight’s mouth before he could even finish.

“Who the hell are you—gah!”

The knights behind him were swiftly dispatched as well.

Having killed three of the palace knights in the blink of an eye, the assailants stepped from the darkness to push the bodies to one side.

Most people believed that assassins worked alone, but they actually preferred to work in groups, thus increasing their chances of successfully killing a target.

“Did they know we were coming?” muttered Eighteen, looking at the iron mantles the dead knights wore. In addition, there were at least twice as many men on night guard duty than had been reported, and they were in three-person patrol groups instead of two.

This was odd, even taking into account that defenses had been strengthened after the previous attack. It seemed clear that the palace had known the assassins were coming.

“We’re under attack!”

“Gather up and prepare to fight back!”

As proof of this, shouts could already be heard throughout the palace, even though the attack had only just commenced.

But that won’t change anything.

They’d come here with the intention of killing every living soul in this place, and they had more than enough numbers to accomplish their mission. It seemed already too late to call this an assassination, but what mattered was accomplishing their goal.

We’ll start by clearing the ground floor and work our way up—hmm?

Doubt appeared in Eighteen’s eyes as he looked around at his teammates. There had been seven assigned to his team, not counting him. But he could only see six at the moment.

“Where is the last member? I remember warning you all to stick with the group—”

That was when Eighteen heard a strange noise—like that of a snake crawling over the ground. He and the others turned toward the source of the noise, but then, from precisely the opposite direction, came the sound of something being squashed.

Eighteen spun around again.

An assassin who’d been standing there was now falling to the ground, bereft of his head.

“What in the hells—?!” the assassins shouted, shocked.

Their confusion didn’t last long, however.

“Halt.” Perhaps it was his rich experience in the field that allowed Eighteen to quickly figure out the current situation and issue a command to his team. “Stand your ground and watch your surroundings.”

Moving on with an invisible enemy around them was tantamount to suicide. They would stand close together and make sure there were no blind spots around them.

The assassins quickly fell into formation, seemingly used to such a maneuver.

A silence, replete with heavy tension, followed.

This enemy had managed to escape their sight and snatch two lives in mere moments. They would be killed as soon as they let down their guard.

There are no blind spots now. I won’t be losing any more of my team—huh?

Eighteen noticed something odd.

The darkness at the edge of his vision was rippling oddly, almost like it was alive. He was used to the darkness, but he’d never seen anything like this before.

While Eighteen watched, mesmerized, it undulated as if laughing at him. This made no sense, of course, but that was how it seemed. Eighteen felt shivers all over his body at this sight.

And that was when he heard another squelching sound behind him, and with an ominous premonition, he quickly turned around.

Something dark...

It was swallowing the upper torso of one of his assassins.

The others nearby quickly swung their weapons, but the attacker was already gone, leaving behind only the lower body of the man who’d been killed.

Another assassin who’d witnessed the whole thing stood there, aghast. “What...”

Anxiety and fear quickly spread among them.

They couldn’t figure this out. In fact, they couldn’t even be sure that their opponent was human.

“Stay alert!” commanded Twenty-Seven sternly, noting that the assassins were growing nervous. “It’s only one opponent. The next attack—”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence,

since his head vanished before he could.

“Oh no!”

Twenty-Seven’s grisly death amplified the group’s fear to the greatest possible extent. Bereft of reason, they began to flee.

These assassins would normally have chosen to fight even when faced with an impossibly powerful opponent, but that was only when they could know who they were facing.

Here was a mysterious enemy that seemed to have no physical form. The terror of seeing their companions being devoured one by one was unimaginably frightening.

We were never told something like this existed in the palace.

Eighteen began to sweat, joining the others in fleeing. The situation had gotten out of hand.

“Aaaargh!”

“God help me—augh!”

Their opponent was no longer being secretive. Scream after scream came from behind them.

This was a hunt,

and they were the prey,

dispatched with swift, mysterious strikes,

which was their specialty.

The screaming grew closer and closer, even though they were running at top speed.

“No...”

The wailing from behind came to an end, and Eighteen saw the darkness that had been wriggling at the edge of his vision.

“Who are you? Who are you, damn it!” he shouted.

In response, a man appeared. He had a thin frame, with gray eyes that were not only peaceful, but indolent.

Eighteen’s eyes filled with shock.

This was Sion Agnes, the prince confined to the Sunken Star Palace, and also their target.

“How... How is this possible?”

Eighteen kept on repeating the same words, apparently overwhelmed by the realization that it had been Sion who’d been killing them one by one.

People need to know.

The world had no idea what kind of person Prince Sion, whom they disdained and ignored, really was. Eighteen’s goal was no longer killing Sion—it was getting out and telling his guild what he’d learned.

The moment this thought came to him, he spun and ran as hard as he could.

Or at least, he tried to.

“I’m going to let one of you go...” murmured a quiet voice in Eighteen’s ear.

“But that one isn’t you.”

He then saw his body, separated from his head, fly ahead of his face and crash to the ground.

* * *

As expected, actual battle is far more effective, Sion thought, looking at the dead assassins.

His mastery in Dark Celestial Essence was growing much faster through today’s battle than it had in the training he’d performed recently.

Knowing this, he hadn’t avoided battle. If anything, he’d enjoyed it.

“Stop them!”

“Where is the prince? Find him and protect him!”

Sounds of combat could be heard from various parts of the palace.

This should be over soon.

These sounds signified that the knights in the palace were fighting back instead of falling defenselessly. It would only be a matter of time until the assassins were defeated—especially if Sion went around providing aid.

That was when a different sort of noise struck Sion’s ears. It wasn’t the sound of cold weapons colliding, but an explosion.

He wondered for a moment if there were any magicians in the palace. Then a knowing look entered his eyes.

I nearly forgot.

His body slowly sank back into the darkness. This was Dark Flow, the basic transportation skill of Dark Celestial Essence. While Dark Celestial Essence was a strange power at heart that melded with nothing else, it was closer to dark than it was to light. As a result, many of the skills were connected to the darkness.

As if riding an invisible current, Sion instantly moved over to the source of the sound and watched the battle unfold.

“Who do you think you are? How dare you attack this palace?”

Priscilla made hand seals with righteous anger, and each time she did, magical spells poured forth and covered the surroundings with a red light. The smooth transitions between her attack and defense spells clearly attested to the fact that she was a talented magician, sought after by many magic towers.

The sight was enough to bring a glimmer to Sion’s eyes. After all, the assassins she was up against weren’t easy opponents. They must have been the most skilled among the assassins who’d attacked today since they seemed to be every bit her match.

In fact, they were slowly gaining an advantage over her.

“Ugh!” Priscilla groaned painfully. Attacks poured in between the spells that she was casting one after another. Wounds were forming all over her body. And finally, as one of the assassins pierced her magical defenses and shoved his sword toward her heart...

Sion intervened.

All it took was a single step.

A single step to take him between her and the assassin.

He slowly reached out with his hand.

As the sword grated against the energy flowing over his palm, its trajectory distorted. Sion took advantage of the opening this created, and the assassin’s heart was crushed in a single beat.

“Who...are you?” Priscilla panted, puzzled.

The assassin’s body hadn’t even hit the ground before Sion’s figure flitted through space and moved toward the other assassins.

With each one of his movements, one assassin fell dead. Blocking his attacks was just as impossible as avoiding them. This was no longer a battle. It was merely...

Carnage.

* * *

We’ve failed.

Four, who’d been watching this scene from the back in horror, understood that instinctively.

They had not anticipated such a skilled magician being in the palace, and they’d overlooked another foe as well: the unidentifiable individual who wielded a strange power that enveloped his body. He’d decapitated some of the best assassins in the guild. The quick deaths of the assassins who’d infiltrated other parts of the palace were probably due to him as well.

He was the real cause of the failure.

The palace was supposed to be insignificant. Who knew someone like him would be here?

This was an unexpected variable—one big enough to turn the tables entirely.

Four crouched down, watching this dark, enigmatic foe as he approached. The enemy had already dispatched everyone else. When the moment came, Four flew toward the window behind him instead of at his adversary. He chose to run instead of fight.

Sion did not give chase, instead withdrawing the dark essence that permeated his surroundings to reveal himself.

“Prince...Sion?”

Priscilla was astounded, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he was staring at a dark thread coming from his finger. The other end was attached to Four, who was fleeing at a brisk pace.

This was Dark Soul Thread, a technique enabled by the Dark Celestial Essence. Within a certain radius, it allowed him to track down a target.

It would guide him to the assassins’ base of operations.

I’ll pay you a visit very soon.

Ever since he’d been able to think for himself, he hadn’t let a single person live when they came after his life.

If a hundred tried to kill him, he wiped out a thousand; if a thousand were after him, he cut off the heads of ten thousand. He didn’t allow a single unforeseen factor to exist that could possibly impede his retribution.

There would be no exceptions made in this life either.

A dark, spinning star was clearly visible in each one of his languid eyes.

Dark Celestial Essence had finally reached the first tier of mastery.