The 3rd Prince of the Fallen Kingdom Returns

25: Tale of the Grassland (1)

For Sven, this was his first time experiencing the battlefield.

There were countless inconveniences. From the moment he woke up to when he went to sleep, everything was different from life back in his territory.

The bigger problem was that even lying on his bed brought no comfort.

Clang, clang, clang.

The loud sound of bells rang out.

Sven, lost in a dream of playing hide-and-seek with a beautiful maiden from Abra, instinctively bolted upright.

The hazy, dream-like scene shattered, replaced by the worn-out tent and the sight of his freshly polished armor from the night before.

While reminiscing about the face and figure of the girl he met in his dream, Sven grabbed the sword leaning beside him.

Someone outside shouted.

“Night raid!”

He leapt out of bed.

Blood rushed to his head, and his mind and body entered battle mode. There was no time to properly equip himself.

He flung open the tent flap and rushed outside.

And there it was—the battlefield.

The oppressive aura of the battlefield engulfed him.

“My Lord!”

His adjutant came running, his disheveled hair making it clear gotten up in a hurry.

“Why is your hair like that?”

“This isn’t the time to worry about my hair.”

“How hilarious.”

“This isn’t the time to laugh.”

“When would it ever be? Damn it, what were the sentries even doing? They should have alerted us to prepare.”

Everything had been fine when they attacked and destroyed Kurui’s camp.

The Allied Forces, having enjoyed their victory, resumed their march.

Their next target was Okuah, the new leader who had united the orcs.

But the moment the march began, hell broke loose.

“These damned bastards…”

The orcs didn’t let the Allied Forces rest.

They launched sporadic attacks several times a day. Sometimes the groups were small, other times they were large.

The unpredictable mix of strategies left the Allied Forces scrambling to respond.

The unrelenting need for vigilance drained the Allied Forces, slowing their advance.

“What is the Empire even doing?”

Sven, running with his sword drawn, began his habitual grumbling.

“If they summoned the Allied Forces, they should have prepared properly. And I heard one of the Ten Strongest joined them? And that… the one favored by the Supreme Commander…”

Sven trailed off, thinking of the Prince of Briol.

He had a weakness in Yuri’s hands and had been thoroughly beaten during their spar.

But after all, Yuri was still an eighteen-year-old boy, younger than him.

“What the hell is that dark little kid doing anyway?”

He continued to grumble as he ran towards the supply unit, where a battle was already raging.

“Hey!”

At Sven’s shout, an orc charged at him.

He tensed up completely.

The first time he faced an orc, his body refused to move.

Their appearance was horrifyingly hideous; they were incredibly strong, and their fighting style differed from that of humans. Several knights he fought alongside met gruesome ends.

Sven survived thanks to the help of those around him.

It was because of his father, Wolf Gain.

“Damn it…”

He gradually adapted to the war.

He learned the enemy’s patterns and understood what he had to do.

Now, instead of freezing in terror when facing orcs, he could swing his sword.

He wished he had been like this sooner.

“Ukuru Durutiti Akumekum!”

“Shut your damn mouth!”

Sven deflected the axe and slashed at the orc’s abdomen. The orc dodged. He followed up with a swift combination, inflicting more wounds on the orc.

The orc retreated.

As if waiting for this moment, Sven prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

‘Don’t just charge forward—try keeping your weight centered toward the back.’

Suddenly, that boy’s voice echoed in his mind.

Sven’s steps hesitated for a moment.

At that instant, the orc swung forward with ferocious strength, as if it had been waiting for this opportunity. The blow was so powerful that the wind pressure alone left a cut across the bridge of his nose.

If he had kept moving forward, his head would have been split open.

“Damn it.”

Yuri’s advice kept piling up, making it feel like he was accumulating debt.

“That annoying bastard too.”

Not only did Yuri torment him, but he also sent that Laurent guy.

Sven thought there couldn’t be two people like that prince, but he lost even more miserably to Laurent.

Unlike Yuri, Laurent didn’t knock him out immediately but toyed with him throughout their sparring session.

Laurent, who followed their prince like a loyal hound, said he was only training Sven because of Yuri’s orders.

It was humiliating.

What was most infuriating was that because of those two damned Briol bastards, his skills had actually improved.

Look at that.

Sven finished off an orc, then helped a struggling Liberta knight.

“Thank you, Sir Sven!”

“It’s nothing.”

The young and inexperienced Sven who could barely handle a single orc was gone. The knight Sven, seasoned and bold through the war, had emerged.

“Damn, damn…”

And then he faced off against an orc with a flag on its back.

It was like a knight among orcs. They were called Orkbal.

He was used to dealing with ordinary orcs, but Orkbals weren’t easy.

Tension filled the air.

The Orkbal didn’t even bother to properly wield its weapon. It just grinned at Sven and walked towards him with large strides.

Seizing the opportunity, a knight tried to attack the Orkbal from behind.

“Akuak!”

The Orkbal let out a shout, twisting its torso. Its axe, weighted with force, came down. The knight’s skull split open, and its contents burst out.

Blood splattered onto Sven’s face.

Death came in an instant.

Though they weren’t particularly close, Sven had at least grown familiar with the knight’s face while serving in the Allied Forces together.

Due to the large-scale expedition, their numbers only dwindled. The longer the war dragged on, the more they got to know each other, and thus, the deeper the grief became.

“You bastard…”

Sven instinctively tried to rush forward.

But he hesitated.

Every time emotions took over, the advice from that Briol brat held him back.

“Okudoku, kemeteduru.”

The Orkbal gestured, beckoning him to come closer.

Everything around them was its domain.

If he carelessly stepped in, he would end up like the knight before him, collapsing with blood splattered across his comrades’ faces.

He took a step back and scanned his surroundings.

The entire allied camp, not just Liberta’s, was alight with fire.

“Is this a large-scale attack?”

“Yes. Everyone is engaged in battle.”

“No reinforcements?”

“Not yet…”

His adjutant stood beside him.

Though not exceptionally skilled, he was capable of staying by Sven’s side and handling ordinary orcs.

“What about the Empire?”

“No word from them yet.”

“Those bastards… If they dragged us into this, they should take responsibility. Damn coal-miner-looking guys strutting around in their black armor, acting high and mighty…”

The number of Orkbals steadily increased.

He was in trouble.

This time, it seemed the orcs’ main force had targeted Liberta. Such nations usually suffered severe damage.

Wouldn’t it be better to run?

But his feet wouldn’t move.

He could see his father fighting bravely in the distance. He might not have lived a righteous life, but Sven wasn’t trash enough to abandon his father and flee.

Sven gripped his sword tightly and said to his adjutant,

“Hey.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been through a lot because of me.”

“My lord?”

Sven lowered his stance.

“So, if I die, tell the Empire exactly what I said. Tell them they put me through this hell, so they should all stick their tongues out and die. That they’re bastards who deserve to have three generations wiped out…”

“Your insults are truly colorful.”

“You just…”

Sven paused abruptly.

The voice was different.

He turned around to see his adjutant frozen stiff, and beside him stood a knight he didn’t recognize.

“Just as they say.”

“You are…”

Briol knights don’t wear standardized armor. This initially confused him about their affiliation.

Then Sven noticed the emblem engraved on the knight’s chest and understood the situation.

“Briol?”

“Yes. You can call me Jared.”

He stepped forward.

There was no hesitation or fear. He acted as if this was something he did regularly.

“The opponent is…

It was the Orkbal.

But before he could finish, Jared was already charging. Sparks flew as the axe and sword clashed repeatedly.

A fierce battle unfolded, too fast for the eyes to follow.

Sven bit his lip.

Only a few highly skilled mid-ranking knights from Liberta were capable of facing an Orkbal on equal footing.

But what kind of nation was Briol? Even those who weren’t much older than him were casually fighting Orkbals.

“Damn it…”

Sven raised his sword again.

He couldn’t just stand and watch. He was about to turn and join the fight when…

“Your Highness! Reinforcements have arrived!”

Knights clad in various armor entered the Liberta camp.

At first glance, they looked more like a band of mercenaries than a knight order, but that was precisely how he knew they were from Briol.

And at the forefront stood a face Sven knew well.

A boy with black hair swaggered in, with a sword large for his frame resting on his shoulder.

“Yuri Briol.”

Sven must have said it louder than intended.

Yuri glanced sharply at him.

Sven, flustered, added,

“Your Highness.”

In response, Yuri flashed a grin.

“Oh, Sven. My friend!”

He pointed at Sven.

“A friend never abandons another in need. That’s what Briol is all about!”

Yuri was imitating the boastful speech style of Brusin, which was becoming popular among the Allied Forces.

He was incredibly relaxed, even in this situation.

What was even more annoying was the reaction of those around him.

“Did you hear that? He called him a friend.”

“Sir Sven is friends with the Third Prince of Briol…”

“As expected of the heir to the Count of Abra…!”

The fact that they were looking at him with admiration was even more irritating.

That bastard was just messing with him.

“Alright, let’s go!”

Yuri shouted as he unsheathed his sword from his shoulder. At his signal, the Briol knights scattered.

Despite their haphazard attire, their movements were as organized as the Imperial Knights. And Briol’s unique, free-spirited swordsmanship was more practical than any other knight order.

“Sven.”

Yuri approached and slung his arm around Sven’s shoulders.

There was blood on his sword, likely from slaying orcs.

“Have you been waiting? Aren’t you glad I came?”

“…”

He had been caught with a weakness, beaten with a wooden sword, and even subjected to humiliating training sessions. At first, he was intimidated, but now he was used to his miserable situation.

It wasn’t like him to just stand there awkwardly.

Sven returned the gesture, putting his arm around Yuri’s shoulders.

“Yes. I’m very pleased, my friend, Prince Yuri.”

“Oh…”

Yuri’s eyes widened and then burst into laughter.

“Yes, my friend, Sven!”

Sven also awkwardly laughed along with Yuri.

If they were closer, they would have noticed the awkwardness, but to Wolf Gain, watching from afar, it was a heartwarming scene.

His troublesome son had gotten his act together after befriending the Third Prince of Briol.

Seeing their friendship blossom on the battlefield reminded him of his younger days, and his heart warmed.

Once the Allied Forces were over, Wolf thought he might travel to Briol. He turned his gaze to the Orkbal standing before him.

As his aura shifted, the Orkbal frowned and took a step back.

“For Liberta!”

Wolf’s sword flashed with invisible speed, striking ten times.

It was the secret swordsmanship passed down through the Gain family.
The Orkbal, initially unable to comprehend what had happened, collapsed, blood gushing from its body.

Wolf declared,

“It’s no use, no matter how much you harass us. The Allied Forces will kill your leader, Okuah, you bastards.”

The Orkbal seemed to understand the word “Okuah” and responded,

“Okuah, Ganir Jogo Berate…”

Before it could say more, Wolf crushed its head with his sword, killing it instantly.

He then looked up.

With Briol’s reinforcements arriving, the tide of battle had already begun to turn.

Liberta, which had been in a dire situation, began to overwhelmingly push back the orcs’ attack. The orcs’ screams echoed from all directions.

Wolf approached Prince Yuri.

Yuri and Sven had just finished killing an orc together.

The two were conversing.

“…done.”

“…indeed.”

“Ugh…”

Wolf drew closer.

“This debt shall certainly be repaid.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Make sure to pay it back.”

“Look forward to it.”

Prince Yuri and his son were exchanging friendly words until the very end.

Of course, the actual relationship between them was quite different from what Wolf had imagined, but from the outside, it was a heartwarming scene.

Wolf clapped his hands.

“Bravo!”