Crown Prince Sells Medicine
Chapter 132

“Hmm?”

The corner of Javillon’s eyes twitched ever so slightly. Even more noticeably, his pupils, which had been slightly quivering, shifted their gaze. They looked towards the blade he had been swinging downward.

It’s gone.

The aura has disappeared.

The radiant aura that should have enveloped the blade was now completely gone without a trace.

Why?

‘…Why?’

For the aura to suddenly vanish in the midst of his swing was such an abrupt and unexpected event.

This was the first time such a thing had happened since he had reached the realm of the Swordmaster.

He couldn’t comprehend the reason.

Of course, Raciel knew the reason.

‘Bingo!’

After giving Javillon’s head a firm tap and activating his ‘Healing Hand’ skill, Raciel landed gracefully on the ground, then swiftly raised his head.

Despite the rough landing causing discomfort in his knees, he wore a triumphant smile.

‘Success, it’s a success.’

What he had just accomplished…

The ‘Healing Hand’ skill.

He had alleviated Javillon’s headache with it. He had foreseen that Javillon would lose his aura.

When did he realize this? From the moment he initially diagnosed Javillon and detected his migraine.

Javillon probably didn’t even realize it himself. He was completely unaware.

He didn’t grasp the significance of the headache, and how the pain he had endured since birth influenced his swordsmanship.

But Raciel understood.

The significance of the headache to Javillon.

‘It’s a routine.’

Raciel’s eyes gleamed. Routine. Sometimes it appears insignificant, a daily habit. However, at times, it holds more weight than one might imagine.

The headache was a significant factor in Javillon’s swordsmanship. Raciel had realized this when he first diagnosed him.

Listening to Javillon’s story about his own headache, Raciel became certain.

‘Javillon has had a headache since the moment he first wielded a sword. Each time he swung his sword, he felt it. Even when he initially unlocked his mana heart, with every advancement to a new realm, he always endured the headache.’

The headache he had borne since birth had become an inseparable part of his life. It accompanied him in every moment of his sword training. The pain that he always had to endure with determination.

That pain had become a routine. The process and mental state of enduring that pain had become a routine.

‘Even when he reached the realm of the Swordmaster.’

That was why.

The headache and the resilience to endure it.

They had become integral components of Javillon’s swordsmanship and mana techniques.

However, Javillon himself remained oblivious to this.

To him, the headache was just a part of everyday life. Just as people breathe unconsciously, enduring the headache he had suffered since birth was a constant for him.

So, he probably didn’t know. He must have only now realized the significance of the pain he had always wanted to rid himself of.

“Isn’t that right?”

Raciel swiftly retreated.

Javillon’s confusion deepened.

“What is this?”

He swung down his now aura-less sword. But his blade didn’t fulfill its intended purpose. If it still had its aura, it would have pierced through the defense and torn flesh, but not now.

Clang-!

Demian deflected the oncoming blade at an angle. The collision between Javillon’s downward swing and Demian’s sword generated a powerful shockwave. Demian’s eyebrows furrowed as the impact felt like his wrist was on the verge of breaking, but he managed to hold on.

“Hmph!”

He countered the force, causing Javillon’s blade to slide sideways with a metallic scrape.

It brushed past his shoulder and descended. Simultaneously, Demian’s sword arced upwards in a semi-circle.

In a normal situation with a full-length blade, such a quick close-quarters reaction would have been impossible due to its unwieldy length. However, Demian’s sword had been broken in half, making it possible.

Swish!

“…Damn!”

The tip of the half-blade narrowly grazed Javillon’s chin, tracing a short semi-circular path. For the first time, a scratch marred the face of the Swordmaster, leaving a deeper scar on his pride.

But Demian paid no attention to such matters.

“Now!”

He needed to press his advantage.

When the opponent showed even a hint of disorientation, a slight disturbance, one had to relentlessly exploit that opening. It was their slim hope for survival.

‘That way… the prince can escape.’

Kakakakakakang-!

A barrage of continuous strikes!

Demian’s half-blade gleamed without pause. Maintaining the extremely close range where the shortened blade had the advantage, he pushed even closer, nearly sticking to Javillon as he advanced.

Stabbing, slashing, cutting.

Poking, striking, swiping.

Blocking, tearing, slicing.

All these relentless attacks flowed seamlessly.

Like a beast relentlessly assaulting its prey’s vulnerabilities or someone staking their life in desperation, he pressed forward with unwavering intensity.

Yet, all of his attacks were parried.

This was to be expected.

After all, Javillon was a Swordmaster. Demian had foreseen this while launching his attacks.

‘So now, escape!’

He stole a glance at the prince.

Escape in this gap. Remain safe. That’s his duty. He tried to convey this with his eyes. Or at least he attempted to.

But instead of fleeing, the prince charged toward him.

“…!”

You reckless prince! I’m buying time for you. Why can’t you run? Why, after needlessly entering the fight earlier, are you acting like this now? Do you suddenly wish to die? Is that it?

Demian cursed in his thoughts.

But Raciel paid no attention. His gaze remained fixed on Javillon, who had stepped back slightly after a brief hesitation caused by Demian’s relentless assault.

The fleeting gap that appeared in an instant. The crack he had calculated and awaited. The hope of escape hinged on that moment.

‘Of course. Javillon is a Swordmaster. Just because he lost his aura for a moment, can Demian and I safely escape? No, absolutely not.’

It was entirely impossible.

His confusion would be momentary. His sense of bewilderment was but a passing breeze. Once Javillon recovered from this brief stumble, he would quickly display his formidable skills.

Because he was a Swordmaster. Even though he lost his aura for a moment, his understanding of the sword, his ability to control mana, his swordsmanship techniques, all remained intact.

‘In other words, Javillon is now like a tank that has lost its main cannon. Does a tank become powerless just because it can’t fire its cannon? No. Its mobility and armor remain intact. It probably still has its machine guns.’

Even with just that, on an open field, a tank could wreak havoc against infantry. The same applied to Javillon now.

Even if he lost his aura, he could still overpower Demian. The moment Javillon recovered, Demian would be defeated instantly.

He didn’t want that.

That’s why.

“Now…!”

In this brief moment of Javillon’s hesitation, instead of making an escape, he charged forward.

Honestly, it was terrifying. It was a risky, spur-of-the-moment decision. He felt every hair on his neck stand on end.

But for the sake of getting through this day safely, it had to be done. He steeled himself, pushing harder against the ground. He reached out with both hands. He was just three steps away. He aimed at Javillon.

And he shouted.

“Release!”

Dingdong!

[Activating the release function of slot #1.]

[Please set the release amount.]

“All of it!”

He activated the circular slot.

He vowed to release every bit of the material stored within.

The reaction was immediate.

[Releasing 15 liters of <Toxic Smoke> stored in the circular slot.]

Kiiiiiiing-!

The circle spun vigorously.

The material, ‘Toxic Smoke’, that had been stored, converged at his fingertips.

The dark toxic smoke he had gradually inhaled while escaping from the fire earlier.

Accordingly, he released all the accumulated carbon monoxide and toxic gas in an instant. No, he launched it.

Directly toward Javillon’s face.

Pooferooong-!

“…!”

Javillon’s eyes widened in shock.

However, that expression was brief, as the black toxic gas explosively released obscured his view. Internally, Raciel clenched his fist.

“It worked!”

It wasn’t just smoke. It was a mixture of various toxic gases created due to the fire. Given that it was suddenly directed at his face, he would have inevitably inhaled at least a small amount reflexively.

That’s all it takes.

It’s enough.

He would momentarily feel dizziness or have difficulty breathing. That should buy enough time to escape.

“Princess! Now!”

Raciel moved, setting the final piece of their escape plan into motion.

Without looking back, he turned and grabbed Demian by the shoulder. He ran. He waved his hand.

Had they seen his signal?

An immediate response followed.

Tududududu-!

Princess Adeline and about ten of her royal guard cavalry were rushing toward them. Everything was unfolding according to the prearranged plan.

Throw a dead horse at Javillon, use his healing hand skill on Javillon to erase his aura, release the toxic gas from the slot to buy time, and finally make a timely connection with the rescue party(?).

“Could it be… you planned all of this in such a short time?”

Astonished by this newfound realization, Demian looked at the prince running alongside him.

How deep did this man’s cunning go? He was consumed by this distant question that had suddenly surfaced.

With great effort, Raciel laughed and shouted.

“Heh, heh! I… can’t… even… breathe… to reply… heh! Huh!”

They were not far from Princess Adeline and her party.

Just 5 seconds away?

That’s all it would take to reach them. He could mount one of the horses. Raciel clung to hope. At least, he did until a chilling voice reverberated from behind.

“So, you intend to leave me breathless and flee?”

“…!”

The whisper in his ear, the breath felt from behind, the voice that seemed to be both whispering and gnashing.

It was Javillon.

The moment he realized this, a piercing sensation made him reflexively look back.

Screeeech-!

Something flew at him. It was too fast to identify. Only after being struck hard on his temple could he recognize what it was.

Thud!

“…!”

It was an elbow.

An elbow, packed with the power of a Swordmaster, had struck his unprotected temple.

The world spun. Or rather, his head did. The sky appeared yellow. His legs gave way. He crumpled to the ground, tumbling forward.

“…Your Highness!”

Demian’s distant shout as consciousness began to fade.

‘Not like this…’

If he lost consciousness now, it was all over.

There was no way out.

He couldn’t.

His heart pounded. A sense of desperate crisis surged, but he had no strength to respond. It felt bleak. Desperation consumed him.

Then, a memory resurfaced.

-Prince? I will now cast a disguise spell on you. However, I have something to ask of you before that.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed from his memories. Who was it? It sounded like Zanetis, the royal court magician of the palace. Ah, this was…

‘When leaving the Imperial Capital for Anbouaz…’

It was the caution the court magician had given him then.

Why would he remember that warning now? Regardless of the question, the voice of Zanetis in his memory continued speaking.

-The disguise spell I will cast on you will remain intact in almost any situation. However, there is one situation you must be extremely cautious of. Namely, when you receive a physical shock strong enough to make you faint.

‘…Oh, right. He did say that.’

If you receive a blow strong enough to cause unconsciousness, the disguise magic will instantly be undone. While the spell might absorb the shock once and prevent you from blacking out, it would also expose your identity, for better or worse.

…Right.

He remembered. He did say that.

A shock strong enough to make one faint? This seems exactly like his current situation. So, what happens now? Is the disguise going to break?

In the midst of these thoughts,

Zzzzzt…!

He felt a tingling sensation at the back of his head, like being electrocuted. A sharp sensation. His fading consciousness suddenly sharpened.

The sensation spread throughout his body. From his neck, down his spine, through his limbs, and back up to the crown of his head.

And then.

…Zap!

There was a flash. Was the disguise magic undone due to the shock? The brink of unconsciousness was pushed back.

His mind was fully alert. He didn’t faint. Instead, he opened his eyes.

“…Huh.”

The first thing he saw when he lifted his head was Javillon, looking at him with a shocked expression.

Why would that be?

He soon found out.

“Saint military officer… you… you’re Crown Prince Raciel Adria… Magentano?”

Javillon muttered, staring at him. His shocked eyes seemed to quiver as if they had undergone laser surgery.