Chapter 67
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: The Inauguration
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After finishing his conversation with Duke Huam, Chris stepped outside to find Marisa waiting.
"What did you talk about with my father?"
"About marrying you."
"...What?"
"Don't worry. I made my refusal clear. He won't bring it up again."
"..."
Marisa's face flushed bright red, then quickly cooled to an icy expression.
"...Follow me. I'll guide you back to your quarters."
Whirling around, she strode forward.
Chris watched her back thoughtfully.
*...Preventing the Extreme Poison House's tragedy wasn't part of the plan. I only intended to minimize the damage.*
With his current strength, it was impossible.
He had a year or two, but even so, it was a stretch.
A sigh escaped him.
*Still, there's time. I'll have to think of a way. More than anything, I need to get stronger. Incomparably stronger than I am now.*
Only by becoming stronger could he find a solution.
*First, let's return to the Dark Magic House.*
Another important event awaited him.
The star of the show was Chris.
It was the inauguration ceremony for his appointment as a Prince.
The moment he would finally become a Prince.
* * *
*Caw, caw.*
The southern border of the Southern Magitech Nation, home to the Dark Magic House.
The border region with Gold Cross.
Crows cawed ominously.
Beneath the crows lay countless corpses.
Judging by their gear, they appeared to be an elite mercenary band, but all were dead, their bodies horribly mangled.
It was clear they hadn't simply lost a fight; they had been brutally tortured to death.
"How dull. Aren't there any more interesting ones?"
"Why don't we just pop into the Alliance's territory?"
Masked figures chattered with bored expressions amidst the pile of bodies.
Their masks were shaped like ominous, blood-red shadows.
At the far end of the group, a man gazed at the distant northern horizon.
"What are you doing, you crazy young master?"
"Ah."
The man had his mask tilted halfway off, revealing a remarkably beautiful face.
Long, flowing silver hair, as brilliant as spun moonlight.
His features were so delicate he could have been mistaken for a woman. If not for his prominent Adam's apple, he wouldn't have looked male at all.
His slender frame gave off an impression of utter fragility, one that might stir maternal instincts, but that was merely his appearance.
The blood splattered all over him announced that, contrary to his fine and delicate looks, he was an ominous being.
"Ah, I heard an interesting rumor."
"A rumor?"
"Yes, that an interesting little brother has appeared."
"A little brother?"
The person he was speaking to tilted their head in confusion.
"Ah, Young Master. You're from a noble house, right? The Dark Magic House, was it?"
"Not past tense. I'm still a member of the family. Haven't been kicked out yet."
"Not kicked out yet? Those Dark Magic House bastards must be crazy. To think they still haven't excommunicated a horribly insane freak like you, Young Master."
The masked figures snickered.
They were a gathering of madmen, but the man with the delicate features was, without a doubt, the most unhinged of them all.
The delicate-faced man smiled back as if amused, then asked.
"Is it funny?"
"...Huh?"
"I'm asking if I'm funny."
The masked person's laughter died in their throat.
"Ah, no, that's not what I meant..."
"It's fine. We're comrades, aren't we? A little joke is acceptable. But."
*Fwip!*
The head of the other masked man was torn from his shoulders.
Making no effort to avoid the blood—in fact, seeming to relish it—the delicate-faced man smiled brightly as the fountain of gore sprayed over him.
"I guess we're not comrades anymore, are we?"
An awkward silence fell over the scene.
He had killed a comrade on a whim, but no one said a word.
That was the kind of group they were, after all.
A collective of the lowest human scum.
No, it wasn't right to include them in the category of human.
They were demons, less than human.
"This isn't fun either."
The delicate-faced man muttered softly.
"I think I'll be heading back."
"Back to your family?"
"Yes, I've been away for a long time, so I should show my face. I want to see this new little brother of mine, too. His name was... Kring... something or other."
The man scratched his head and smiled innocently.
"Well, I suppose his name doesn't matter."
If he's not interesting, I won't care.
If he is interesting... I'll kill him.
So a name was of no consequence.
That was the man's way of thinking.
"I do hope he's an interesting little brother. I'd give him plenty of 'attention.'"
And so, the man.
Sherard, the First Prince and madman of the Dark Magic House, vanished without a trace.
The Blood Shadow mask he left behind lay discarded on the ground.
* * *
Chris's appointment as a Prince was officially announced.
In the long history of the Dark Magic House, it was the first time a member of a branch family had become a Prince.
The Dark Magic House was in an uproar.
"To think that scoundrel, Young Master Christian, is now a Prince."
"We can't even call him a scoundrel anymore."
"That's right. Look at the merits he established during this incident."
"They say he completely saw through the Extreme Poison House's scheme and even defeated a 5-Star Majin in the end."
"I can't believe it."
The current location was the banquet hall celebrating Chris's inauguration as a Prince.
Voices filled with astonishment could be heard from all around.
In particular, many voices expressed admiration for the achievements Chris had made during the recent incident.
After all, if it hadn't been for Chris, the expedition team would have been annihilated.
But not everyone felt that way.
The voices acknowledging Chris were still in the minority.
The majority in the Dark Magic House sneered at Chris.
"All for achieving something in a joke of an operation with only kids below 3-Star."
"He defeated a 5-Star Majin? The guy from the Extreme Poison House must have been careless like an idiot. Tsk, becoming a Prince is so easy these days."
They disparaged Chris's accomplishments.
That wasn't all.
"What's the point of becoming a Prince with no foundation?"
"If he were from the Marquisate of Schupen, the foremost of the three branch families, it might be a different story. But what can someone from the County of Cazar, the youngest of the three, possibly do?"
"I wonder if he realizes he's walked right into the lion's den. Nothing good comes from overreaching."
The key figures of the Dark Magic House clicked their tongues.
Becoming a Prince didn't simply mean a rise in status.
It meant stepping into a fierce life-or-death struggle.
Chris was now an enemy to all the other Princes.
No, if you included the factions supporting the various Princes, it was no exaggeration to say the entire Dark Magic House had become his enemy.
Indeed, despite being the man of the hour, Christian stood alone in the middle of the banquet hall, tipping his glass back by himself.
No one dared to approach Christian.
They were afraid of being branded as part of Chris's faction by the other Princes.
*Tsk, pitiful. He's destined to walk a thorny path until his death.*
*It would be a wiser choice to give up now and return to the County of Cazar.*
Had he sensed his own fate?
Christian's expression was also grim.
As he drank from his glass, his face was so somber it was as if he were drinking poison.
What Chris was actually thinking was,
*Dammit, I hate ginger.*
He was cursing the ginger ale in his glass.
He'd asked a servant for alcohol, but they had strictly brought him ginger ale.
*Why am I, the star of the banquet, stuck with ginger ale again? You damnably rigid Majin.*
He'd felt this before, but for a race said to be bloodthirsty and heartless, the Majin were surprisingly more honest and rigid than the people of the Alliance.
*Anyway. Hmm.*
Chris surveyed the banquet hall.
*The atmosphere is just as I expected. Perfect.*
He grinned.
An unexpected thought.
Being shunned by everyone, and he thinks it's perfect?
*I hope this banquet proceeds just as I've predicted.*
A question, then.
Chris's goal wasn't just to be a Prince, but to take control of the Dark Magic House.
To do that, what was important?
First, his own strength.
Second, a faction that followed him.
*No matter how strong you are, it's impossible to rule over everyone as a lone wolf.*
That was why Princes were officially permitted to form their own factions.
The leadership to guide others was also an indispensable quality for a family head.
The problem was that Chris, coming from a branch family, was bound to be at a disadvantage in terms of factional power compared to the Princes from the main line.
Unlike the direct descendants, who would attract followers like clouds just by existing, Chris had to build his faction in his own way.
*But I have someone who will help me.*
An unexpected thought.
*I hope 'he' moves just as I expect.*
Like a fisherman who had cast his line, Chris glanced sideways.
Far in the distance.
A young man was watching him with an arrogant gaze.
The Third Prince, Maisac.
The youngest son of Marquis Langham, and the Prince with the 'noblest bloodline' in the Dark Magic House at present.
Marquis Langham had a total of four children.
The First Prince, Sherard.
The Second Prince, Eshid.
The First Princess, Jupien.
And the Third Prince, Maisac.
Among them, Maisac was special.
Even more so than Eshid, who was considered a top candidate for the succession.
It was because of his maternal bloodline.
The first three were born to the late former wife of Marquis Langham.
Only Maisac had a different mother.
The Red Snow Flower, Fresia.
The current mistress of the Dark Magic House.
More importantly, she was the daughter of the head of the Destruction House.
The head of the Destruction House was an absolute Majin, no less powerful than Nordian.
Furthermore, the power of the Destruction House was strong enough to be ranked among the top five of the twelve great demonic noble families.
With such a powerful mother as his background, no one dared to treat the Third Prince Maisac lightly.
*Thanks to that, he's said to have an extremely arrogant personality. One that can't stand to leave anyone who annoys him alone, feeling satisfied only after crushing them.*
Maisac would definitely make a move.
When he did, Chris would turn Maisac's scheme against him and flip the board in his own favor.
*He's still staying quiet.*
Did he think a trivial being like Christian wasn't even worth his attention?
Maisac was merely sipping his drink and sending contemptuous glances his way.
*Should I start provoking him? That's the only way things will unfold as I intend.*
Chris pondered how to draw the Third Prince Maisac's attention. More precisely, how to get on his nerves.
But then, unexpected and unintentional help arrived.
"Want a drink?"
"!!"
It was Jupien.
Was she here to congratulate him on becoming a Prince in her own way?
She appeared with a sullen look on her face.
"It's not that I like you or anything, but you looked pathetic standing there all by yourself."
"I'm fine, you know?"
"...Aren't you going to speak formally?"
"We're both a Prince and a Princess now. Why should I speak formally to you?"
Chris said shamelessly.
Jupien scowled, then held out her glass.
"Just have a drink with me."
"Alright."
But then she saw the glass in Christian's hand and sneered.
"Ginger ale... Right, you're still a minor."
Chris felt a sense of defeat.
For reference, Jupien was eighteen, just barely an adult by the Magitech Empire's standards.
"Such a baby. From now on, you'll call me 'Big Sister.'"
"..."
In terms of age, she was right.
But to call Jupien, who looked and acted like a child, 'Big Sister'...