Duel with the Crown Prince
6. I dueled the Crown Prince. Right in front of half the freshmen, no less.
“Did you hear that news? Ram Artel got totally demolished by His Highness.”
“That guy's been holed up in his mansion for 19 years, and now he comes out just to cause trouble everywhere?”
“Playboy antics and even lèse-majesté. What a total fuckup.”
Naturally, the way people looked at me had changed a bit. Before, it was like, Whoa, that's Ram Artel?—all curiosity. Now it was more like, ...That's Ram Artel. Don't make eye contact.—pure unease.
...Not exactly a positive shift, whatever.
“You hear about the duel?”
“His Highness must've crushed him flat. His swordsmanship has been legendary since way back.”
I felt those uncomfortable stares as I shoved a sandwich into my mouth. Sure, you'd think after throwing down with the Crown Prince, food wouldn't go down, but... hey, we do all this shit just to eat and survive, right?
“Thing is, it's not like that, apparently? The kids who watched said it was surprisingly even.”
'Even my ass.'
If Professor Lien hadn't jumped in at the perfect moment, I'd have been turned into ground meat. I never imagined that psycho Crown Prince would go all-out in a friendly duel.
'Psycho, using mana in a friendly duel?'
When that mana hit me right in the face, the only word in my head was death. It felt like facing a massive industrial saw blade spinning at thousands of RPM. Just brushing it would've shredded my whole body—that brutal sensation. If I can avoid it, I never want to feel that again.
'...So much for quietly playing a side character.'
Elena kept weirdly acting like she knew me, and now I'd dueled the Crown Prince. Rehen seemed dead set on using me as a tool to mess with Elena...
'Face it.'
I'm caught up in the main storyline of this novel right now. If I keep up this [I just wanna be an extra but the protagonists keep obsessing over me;; what do I do;;] attitude, I'll get sidelined—or worse—in a heartbeat.
I need to get stronger. Being fast alone wasn't cutting it by a long shot.
'Problem is, how the hell do I do that...'
Mid-bite on my sandwich, lost in thought, a familiar silhouette loomed in my vision. Scruffy beard, filthy clothes, ratty coat, two swords clinking at his belt.
Professor Lien.
“Having lunch?”
Why the fuck does this guy keep talking to me?
[I just wanna be an extra but now even the protagonists and professors are obsessing. I'm totally fucked!]
Where the hell did my life go wrong?
“...What.”
I shot a contemptuous glare at the professor strutting through the middle of the academy with his half-empty beer bottle. Sipping brew in the wide-open campus park? Must be a delicacy. If he weren't a professor, I'd have clapped and said, 'Romantic as hell.'
“No next class? It's the middle of the damn day...”
“Self-declared free period.”
“Pardon?”
Self-declared? ...But you're the professor.
“It's theory anyway. Skipping's fine—they study it themselves.”
Ha, this guy's campus life is dynamic. How is this slacker a senior professor?
“So, why'd you suddenly come talk to me?”
“You're pathetically weak.”
What? Here to rub it in on the loser? ...A professor?
“Weak beyond what common sense allows. Moving at that speed means your body should've reached some realm by now.”
Professor Lien chugged his beer from the glass, then casually snatched a sandwich from my lunchbox like it was nothing.
“Speed is power. You know that, right?”
Speed is power? Fuck, even this world runs on that rule? I figured romance-fantasy physics were detached from real-world laws.
“Then why am I so damn weak?”
“Your body's unconsciously dumping all its power into protection.”
“Protection?”
“You can run 100 meters in 0.5 seconds. Even knights like me wonder if that's possible. Obviously, that speed puts insane strain on the body, right?”
Lien wolfed down the stolen sandwich in seconds and kept going.
“Wind resistance, recoil surging through your whole body every step. At that speed, everything's lethal.”
He eyed the last sandwich on my knee and reached for it.
“So your body's using most of its power just to protect itself. No wonder there's nothing left for attacks.”
“...So what do I do?”
“Toughen up your body. Then it won't waste power on defense and can use it for offense too.”
“My body's tough enough.”
I'm no Ronnie Coleman muscle pig, but 19 years of running built some dense muscle—I'm confident.
“Mind if I stab it with a dagger?”
“You serious?”
How does body's tough lead to stab with dagger? Is this an academy or a psych ward?
“My body's so tough, a normal human could stab it a hundred times and not draw blood. Hell, even an axe swing probably wouldn't scratch it.”
“Can I try?”
“Go for it.”
Lien handed me a dagger without a second thought. Wait, that was a joke.
“Stab me. If you draw blood, I'll get you early graduation from the academy.”
“...You got that authority?”
I gawked at him.
“Nah? You're jumping at a joke like it's life or death.”
He gave me a pitiful look.
...Fucking infuriating.
“Anyway, stab already.”
I cautiously pressed the dagger to the spot on his side he pointed at.
...Imagine stabbing a professor in the middle of campus. Some grad students might cheer, but for me, it was nightmare fuel.
“...Look at that.”
“Professor Lien and Ram Artel.”
“What are those scumbags up to?”
“Is Artel stabbing Professor Lien...?”
Ha, fuck it, I give up. I slowly pushed the blade where Lien pointed with his finger.
Thud.
The tip tore through his clothes but stopped like it'd hit a massive concrete wall. No—a whole mountain.
“That's body reinforcement through mana. Can't reach it with training alone.”
I wondered what bullshit he'd spout next.
“Just so you know, I can't sense mana at all.”
If I could handle mana, would I have spent 19 years sprinting in the corner of the territory? I'd have grabbed some obsessive tutor like in those novels and trained swordsmanship nonstop.
Mana's a power granted only to the chosen few. About one in three thousand. Mages with real sensitivity? One in ten thousand. Everyone from leads to sides uses it casually, so it's easy to overlook, but wielding mana is a rare talent in itself.
And I wasn't born with it.
“Figures.”
Lien scarfed the second sandwich and replied indifferently.
...What the hell? Is he really just here to mock me?
“But the world's wide.”
As temptation to stab him again with the dagger flickered, Lien stood, swung his hand outside the bench.
Blue light streaked along the trajectory.
Boom!
A massive shockwave buried the surroundings in dirt. A deep crater gouged the academy park's pristine landscaping.
...What's his beef with the groundskeepers to pull this shit out of nowhere?
“Gahhh!”
“What—earthquake?!”
People were already glancing our way; now the commotion drew even more spectators.
“That was mana.”
As if that wasn't all, Lien raised his hand overhead again.
Whoosh!
Something unknowable flowed from his fingertips once more. It took the form of a pure white thread, descending silently. The air split like a blade, carving a thin gash inside the crater.
A white thread sliced silently, etching a razor-thin cut into the crater wall.
“This is ki.”
“Ki?”
“Ki, or internal energy as they call it... Hell if I know the exact name. Even the Eastern Continent folks use whatever.”
Eastern Continent? That word triggered original novel memories. The part readers always trashed as the worst—never missing from “Sudden wuxia drift? Author lost it?”, “Tastes like shit”, “When does this arc end?” rants. The author rushed it to a close and never mentioned it again till the end!
“Unlike mana, which you're born with talent for, anyone can gain this power through effort. In their words... it's the power 'dwelling in the body.'”
Preaching wuxia in the heart of a romance fantasy world. At this point, maybe I passed out after the Crown Prince duel and this is all brain fever dream.
“...How do you get it?”
“Told you. Effort.”
Lien brushed dirt and grass from his clothes.
“Tons of fucking effort.”
He dug into his coat's inner pocket and tossed me a tattered book.
...Like archaeologists unearthing a Joseon-era tome fresh from the dig. That worn.
“Most knights don't go this route. Too much piled-up work—who's got time to grind like that?”
Fuck, dropped into a romance fantasy and handed a demonic cult secret manual. Wild.
“But you got no choice, right?”
“...Where'd you even get this?”
“? Stole it, obviously. Those Eastern shut-ins gonna lend out their manuals?”
Ha, yeah, figures. What was I even asking?
“Anyway, learn that power. You'll be knight-level easy.”
“...Never once in my life wanted to be a knight.”
Kids in the territory brag about dreaming of knighthood. Every time, I wonder why pick such a dangerous job. Knights rival dragons—that means fighting dragon-level threats. Who wants that?
I wanna be a rich NEET doing what I love till I croak.
“Kinda heavy.”
“Huh?”
“I got fast to run from danger. Not to become a knight or...”
“What small-time thinking.”
Lien cut me off, annoyed at my rambling.
“Why run? Get overwhelmingly strong, and danger avoids you.”
He looked genuinely baffled.
“Listen up, kid. Never worried about getting fired from this academy my whole life. Know why?”
Lien gestured dramatically, drawing sharp glares from students.
No shave, daytime drinking, skipping classes at will. Casual banmal to noble kids, even dissing the Crown Prince. Qualifications questionable at best. But he's senior professor for one reason.
“I'm strong.”
Strong enough that problems steer clear on their own.