The Extra Prince Sets Out To Conquer The World

The fight between Precia and Gilbert shown from various angles was quite thrilling.

-Next.

When it became one-on-one, Precia started toying with the dolls.

-Urgh, urgh, urgh! N-next!

On the other hand, Gilbert was struggling to fight against a doll.

They were contrasting battles, but one side had a refreshing flavor while the other had a desperate flavor.

As expected, it’s hard to find anything as entertaining as watching a fight.

“Is that red-haired girl the disciple of that fellow Horazon?”

At Geor’s question, I nodded while sipping black tea.

“Sir Horazon said she’s like a daughter to him. Precia also thinks of him as a father.”

Precia had already slain 20 dolls.

Since he said he was sending weak dolls first to see their skills, the level of the dolls coming out to face Precia was gradually becoming formidable.

“Hmm, with that level of skill, it seems she has long surpassed her mentor.”

At his speculation, I shook my head.

“That’s unlikely. Of course, if we compare them at the same age, she would be stronger than Sir Horazon, but she still can’t compare to the Ten Heavenly Swords.”

The reputation of the Ten Heavenly Swords wasn’t something that could be easily obtained.

No matter how talented Precia was, she would have to struggle in Bastille for several years to come close.

At my cold assessment, Geor looked at me with puzzled eyes.

“Ten Heavenly Swords? Who?”

“Uh… You didn’t know? Sir Horazon is one of the Ten Heavenly Swords. Have you not heard of the Sword Sage?”

At my answer, he widened his eyes in surprise.

“That green scoundrel who used to drink and cause trouble all the time? Ten Heavenly Swords? Sword Sage?”

Scoundrel? Horazon? It was the first time I heard that story.

Well, the Horazon I know was mostly described from the perspective of Precia, the female protagonist.

How could I possibly know about the younger days of Crimson Fang Horazon?

Geor was bewildered, as if his world had been broken, unable to believe it.

“Impossible. That damn bastard being one of the Ten Heavenly Swords must be a sign that the world is going to hell.”

“You seem to be excessively disconnected from the world beyond expectations, old man. He’s a knight among knights that all the knights in this country admire and look up to.”

I knew he lived in seclusion without any external contact, but to think there was someone living in this country who didn’t know Horazon was one of the Ten Heavenly Swords.

At my words, Geor slammed the table, saying it was absurd.

“Horazon, that scoundrel, a knight among knights?! He’s a failure among failures! Do you know how many of my dolls that bastard broke? A whopping 16,759! More than half of those were lost when he got drunk and caused trouble, destroying the core of my factory line and blowing up my entire workshop!”

To blow up a sage’s workshop, that fellow must have been extraordinary since he was young.

Wait, half means he directly broke the other half?

“That bastard, you see!”

Geor ranted about the scoundrel deeds Horazon committed when he was young, his neck veins bulging.

Hearing those anecdotes reminded me of my high school days.

I also used to break the heads of old fogeys with liquor bottles a lot. Ah, such nostalgic memories.

As a result, I earned the nicknames “Rule Breaker” and “Madman of Bulgwangcheon,” but I had no regrets.

The guys whose heads I smashed all deserved it.

If I see Horazon next time, I feel like we’ll have a sense of kinship.

I tried to calm Geor down, escaping from my memories.

“Old man, Silua is getting scared.”

Seeing Silua’s frightened eyes, Geor finally calmed down and let out a deep sigh.

“Whew-! If it weren’t for His Majesty, the head of the Wisel family, and my wife stopping me, I would have personally gone to war with Count Graine and ripped that bastard’s head off, even if it meant my own demise.”

The head of the Wisel family and Count Graine he mentioned were both referring to the previous generation counts.

Abasael’s friend, the current Count Wisel, had no real power back then, and Horazon, being the third son, didn’t inherit the count title.

However, I know he received a separate title and established a branch family due to his high merits.

“Getting too excited is bad for your health.”

Unable to contain his anger, Geor was fuming but suddenly paused.

He glared at me as if looking at me, then changed the subject.

“You said you received Abasael’s staff, right?”

“I did.”

“Can I hear the circumstances? The last news I heard about that fellow was his disappearance about 10 years ago.”

At Geor’s question, I pondered for a moment.

I considered whether it was okay to tell the story as it was.

His lifespan wasn’t very long.

Although I didn’t know his exact lifespan based on the fragmentary information in the novel, judging by his complexion, it wouldn’t be strange if he died tomorrow.

Perhaps his body, which should have died long ago, was forcibly clinging to life because of the lingering attachments he held.

“Alright, I’ll tell you. It’s about what happened 10 years ago.”

I slowly unfolded the story.

***

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to leave the circus and come alone like this?”

At Abasael’s question, Yard shrugged.

“It’s not far, just a day’s distance. They’re all skilled acrobats, so my absence won’t affect the performance.”

Yard had temporarily parted ways with the Slavan Circus to escort Abasael to his destination.

The terrain here was rough, so it was unavoidable to leave behind the circus’s luggage.

The reason he volunteered to be Abasael’s escort wasn’t just because of the amount of money he received from Yuan, but also because he had many questions for Yuan and wanted to gain his favor.

“If you’re fine with it, I have no objections.”

Abasael gazed at the distant mountain ridgeline.

“Is that the place? Where the treasure that can lift your curse is said to be sleeping.”

At Yard’s question, Abasael nodded.

“Yes. Matterhorn. According to my lord, on that mountain grows the mistletoe that grows upside down, ‘Mistel’.”

At Abasael’s words, Yard made a face of disbelief.

“Does a grass that can kill gods really exist in this world? Of course, I admit that Sir El’s magic formula is so beautiful that it makes me gasp in admiration…”

In Abasael’s magic circle, the position corresponding to the most important catalyst was absurd.

Because it required ‘Mistel’ from mythology or a catalyst of equivalent value to be meaningful.

Abasael nodded in agreement with Yard’s concern.

“I had the same thought. Until I saw that mountain.”

Like Yard, Abasael also thought Yuan’s instructions were preposterous.

However, his lifelong honed magical knowledge and keen observation recognized that Matterhorn and the surrounding mountain terrain formed a huge magic circle.

While analyzing the form, Abasael pointed to the lower right side of the mountain.

“Yard, didn’t you mention there was a famous hot spring around here?”

“Yes. According to my preliminary investigation, that’s correct.”

“Is the location of that hot spring perhaps over there?”

Yard looked at where Abasael pointed and compared it with the map.

“Huh… Huh? Yes, that’s the spot. How did you know?”

Upon Yard’s confirmation, Abasael felt a chill run down his spine.

At the same time, he was shocked and moved.

“Dragon vein, that’s where the fire dragon vein passes through! Oh my god, Teacher. I’m witnessing a miracle.”

Even he, who was called the closest mage to a sage, shed tears at the sight he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been observing with interest.

To ordinary people, it was just a beautiful scenery, but from a mage’s perspective, there was a majestic and solemn mythical magic circle.

Seeing the naturally formed miracle, Abasael praised his lord.

“My lord was right. Mistel is sleeping there.”

Reproaching his past self for doubting Yuan even for a moment, Abasael headed towards the village at the foot of the mountain.

If Yuan’s instructions were correct, there should be a Sherpard named ‘Clio’ who frequented Matterhorn like his own home.

“Let’s go together!”

Yard followed Abasael, who was walking ahead, towards the village at the foot of the mountain.

***

Around the time when the meal brought by Zillian No. 79 was finished and the story about Abasael was coming to an end, I looked out the window and saw Gilbert, who had passed out, being carried on a huge bear-shaped doll.

Unlike Gilbert, Precia was walking on her own feet, but she was sweating, looking like she had quite a hard time.

Come to think of it, this might be the first time I’ve seen Precia sweat.

“Young Master! How could you leave us behind and go alone?”

As soon as Precia saw me, she ran over and started nagging.

“Ahahaha, sorry. It was just a good opportunity.”

It must have been good practice not only for Gilbert but also for Precia.

The experience of protecting something while being surrounded by enemies on all sides was necessary before going to the Bastille Mountains.

The something to protect could be me, but it could also not be me.

“Young Master!”

“Now, now, calm down. Let me introduce you. This is Mr. Geor Philip. He is the owner of this house and the dolls you fought until just now, and this little miss here is Silua Philip. Mr. Geor’s daughter.”

At my introduction, Precia politely greeted them.

“I’m Precia Jamileion. I apologize for the sudden visit.”

Geor waved his hand and accepted the greeting.

“It’s fine. I also heard some interesting news thanks to you. You must be tired, so go wash up. I’ll have the meal prepared so you can eat when you come out of the bath.”

At the mention of a bath, Precia’s eyes sparkled, then she glanced at me.

“Feel free to wash up. This person is also an acquaintance of Abasael, so it’s okay to trust him.”

“Ah…! Then please excuse me.”

Precia followed Zillian No. 79’s guidance to the bathroom with an excited expression.

“Is that well-mannered child really the disciple of that scoundrel?”

“I’m also a bit surprised.”

At my answer, Geor chuckled.

“By the way, that girl Precia is remarkable. To think she simultaneously defeated the twenty strongest mass-produced models in just an hour.”

They were dolls made by a mage who was called a sage.

Even if they weren’t named, they were weapons that could easily defeat a squad of ordinary knights.

At Geor’s praise, I smiled and answered.

“She is my escort knight after all.”

“That fellow named Gilbert who passed out isn’t at that level of skill, right?”

“We’ll raise his skills from now on. That’s also one of the reasons I came seeking your help.”

At my answer, Geor showed a small smile.

“Alright, since you’re a guest, I’m welcoming after a long time; I’ll provide that much hospitality. For that girl Precia, mass-produced models seem insufficient, so tomorrow I’ll specially bring out the named ones.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was also curious to see if the ones I made recently are truly worthy of being named.”

Generally, dollmakers didn’t give special names to the dolls they mass-produced.

On the other hand, dollmakers often gave individual names to the dolls they put their heart and soul into making.

The performance of the named dolls was an indicator that demonstrated the dollmaker’s skills, so dollmakers didn’t give names to just any doll.

Of course, as the dollmaker grew, the level of dolls they had previously named would become no different from mass-produced models, and the names of the named dolls would change to the series name of those mass-produced models.

The Zillian No. 79 currently pouring tea for me was probably also a named individual at first.

“If they’re the latest models, they must be named, right? I’m just grateful that my knights are getting stronger, but is it okay if the dolls get damaged?”

At my question, Geor laughed in disbelief.

“Hah, you should worry about your knights rather than my dolls.”

“We’ll have to see about that. Shall we bet on who will win?”

“Sounds good.”

Geor and I smiled at each other, but our eyes weren’t smiling.