I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song

Chapter 133

Dragon Slayer (3)

Everyone was certainly curious about it all, but they didn’t press me too hard due to concerns about my physical condition. Only the commander of the palace knights, with the permission of the king, confirmed a few facts with me to ensure the safety of the royal palace.

I was out of breath, but managed to give brief answers.

I told of the existence of the Elder High Elf Sigrun, the bad blood between the two of us, and our three years of being engaged.

People seldom believed that the angelic-looking elves were, in fact, a nasty breed. The traditions of the world held that elves should be glorified.

But that didn’t mean that people disbelieved me; no, they took me at my word by virtue of the fact that I had built up enough trust. Compared to when I first awoke in the body of the prince, this was a great improvement – Back then, I would not have been believed even if I had said anything.

“That such a terrible being wanders the kingdom.”

“I didn’t even know that the elves were so dangerous.”

All those around me were both burdened and shocked by my revelation of the power of the Elder High Elves. In particular, the commander of the palace knights, who was in charge of the capital’s defenses, was very concerned about the existence of Sigrun. He was worried that she might come to the palace.

I let Count Stuttgart know that she would not be bothering the kingdom for a while.

He asked me why I said this.

“Because she got what she wanted.”

The commander frowned at me. He didn’t know the details, but he still asked me if it wouldn’t be disastrous if such a terrible being had gotten what she had sought.

He was right – If she had gotten what she had truly wanted.

I wasn’t foolish enough to give Sigrun her heart’s desire.

There were many dance poems in the world, but not all such songs were auspicious and beneficial.

Although rare, some poems were ugly, harmful, ominous.

They represented greed, loss, and emptiness – Unholy songs that brought only ruin.

Those few who knew about their existence were wary of such poems, classing them as [Disastrous].

It was one of these unclean songs that I had handed to the Elder High Elf. The greedy faerie, who was unable to create her own poems, was fascinated by such an unfamiliar form of song that she had heard for the first time in her life.

She didn’t even know of its terrible poison.

It was natural.

[Disastrous] poems were dancing poems, not traditions, and very few people knew of their existence in the past. And now that time has passed, there are none who remember the existence of [At the Time of Disaster].

“It’s very nasty. She wanted to eat until she was full, but she instead ate rotten food,” I said, as if it was a shame. However, none of the people around me really believed that I felt sorry.

“I can still see her face.” Sigrun had truly wanted to sate herself.

The knights were silent around me, and a few cleared their throats.

“Then who the hell left that huge mark?” Count Stuttgart suddenly asked, as if just then remembering to do so.

I didn’t answer him.

“Well, no way…”

The silence stretched on, and amazement arose in the eyes of the commander and his palace knights as they stared at me.

“That’s enough,” I said before he asked me again. I complained about my fatigue and promised everyone that I would answer their questions once I was able.

It wasn’t that I was feeling unwell; rather, to feed the insane faerie of the poisoned poem, I had to contain its corruption within me. Even at that moment, the unclean energies still rested in my body. In order to prevent becoming like the ancient beings who were consumed by their own poetry and were finally so ruined, I had to focus on recovery and overcoming that poison I had allowed into myself.

I closed my eyes, and by doing that, I made it clear that everyone should leave my room.

“If you have anything to ask, you must wait until he recovers. There will be plenty of time for all of you to talk, so it is better if everyone leaves for now,” the queen said, coming to my aid.

I heard the sound of doors opening and closing, and after a while, not even footsteps were to be heard. As I opened my eyes, I saw Adelia sitting on my bed. It has been only a few days since she last saw me, yet her face showed her great hurt and stress.

She and I were bound by the relationship between [Domination] and [Subordination], so I could only guess at the anxiety she must have felt.

She must have been so nervous when I had not returned – Perhaps her nastier traits had even been triggered. Adelia jerked and then sneakily grabbed my hand.

Seeing my face, she stiffened.

“Hirck,” with a bizarre groan, I became restless and avoided her gaze, yet I did not let go of her hand. And as I endured and endured, lapsing into unconsciousness and then snapping awake once more, Adelia was always by my side, always giving me her consistent support.

Seeing her face, seeing her there, somehow reassured my heart every time, so much so that I could sink back into sleep.

* * *

I was bedridden and near-comatose for two days.

When I got up, I immediately asked Adelia about Gunn’s progress. I had been told that she was brought here with me. She had suffered serious injuries, but she had at least entered a recovery phase. Still, I would feel more relieved if I could see Gunn’s face.

People opposed me at once. They said that I couldn’t walk well by myself with the state my body was in. They said that I was trembling, unsteady, and could not go anywhere.

However, I did not bend back, and eventually, the knights decided to move Gunn into the room next door to mine. I was awoken at night by a knight reporting that the transfer was done. With Adelia’s support, I hobbled into the adjoining room.

There was a woman lying on the bed with half her face and body covered in bandages, and I could only sigh as I saw the poor half-elf, so full of scars and wounds that barely any of her bare skin could be seen.

The sound of them crying like wounded beasts still rang so vivid in my ears and resounded so clearly in my mind; those screams of the dying half-elves.

“AAH! AAH! AAAH!”

* * *

“Hah! Hargh! Ha!” the half-elves roared like beasts as they rushed at Sigrun.

Their sudden charge had surprised me, panicked me. Sigrun reacted the same.

The only difference was that her anger was far greater than her surprise.

“You dare?” And with those cold words, she fixed her sword and slashed out. It wasn’t even a sword dance: Sigrun had merely slashed her blade from top to bottom and again from left to right.

‘Scheek!’ With that strike alone, the bodies of the swords-elves were torn to pieces. However, they continued to rush at Sigrun. I stared at the scene blankly. My head swirled and turned after I had forcibly used the power of the poetry.

Obviously, I had ordered the half-elves to wait nearby, and they had never before violated my orders. So why the hell were they charging to their deaths in such a manner?

I couldn’t understand it.

“Stop!” I shouted as I watched a half-elf, whose right arm had been severed by Sigrun’s sword, grab his blade into his left hand, and rush to her. He had barely swung his sword when Sigrun killed him. Sigrun then gripped her sword in both hands as she held it out at the ready.

“Stop it!” I shouted again, but the swords-elves did not listen to me.

“Why?” I was trying to step up to the fight, but one of them blocked me off.

“Shhh,” Gunn said as she smiled gently and wiped the blood from my mouth.

(Escape), she implored me. Only after seeing her hand signals did I realize why the half-elves were so recklessly rushing at Sigrun.

They burned with a fury in the very core of their beings.

I couldn’t stand seeing it anymore, letting it happen, so I shouted, “You idiots! I can face her on my own! Go! Step Back!”

Gunn shook her head.

(She Already Decided)

Gunn’s gestures accelerated.

(Death Worse Than Death)

She told me that Sigrun would never let me go easily. I knew it too. I had prepared myself for it.

I had prepared enough gifts for the greedy Elder High Elf to feel as if she was full. I had at least possessed enough power to protect myself from the poison of my gift.

I had done it.

Gunn gestured that it was insufficient.

As she gestured, she grabbed my cheeks and, for the first time ever, spoke to me. Her pronunciation was distorted, stunted, as her tongue had been cut from her mouth.

“I’m talking about the original song. Sigrun thinks to keep you for herself forever,” I think Gunn roughly said this. And even at that moment, the screams of the swords-elves continued.

“AAH! AAH! AAAH!”

They cried out like crippled animals as they died before my eyes.

“Why!” I asked as I witnessed such death.

“Revenge,” Gunn said to me.

(This To Protect You Same Time Their Revenge)

The moment that I understood it, I was dazed.

Up till then, I had never known what the half-elves were thinking, what they were like. And I hadn’t been interested in knowing. For me, they were just daggers in the dark.

My weapon against evil elves.

I had been so blind; I had forgotten what it meant that only half of the blood that flowed through their veins was elven. They were the ill-fated people whose tongues were cut out by the owner, who eventually abandoned them. I had behaved just like their former master; I had exploited them.

Their fate was just like mine had been in ages past.

The sword is deprived of all glory and has to remain a mere blade, a tool that is used but never named, never praised, or remembered.

“Aaahhh!” a swords-elf was cut along her waist, and I did not even know her name. She clutched at the wound with her slender hand, cried out, and charged at Sigrun.

“Quickly!”

From every quarter, garbled, tongueless, and incomprehensible screams erupted.

Gunn grabbed onto me. I had uttered poems one after the other; I had also inhaled the poison of those [Disastrous] songs. It would take some time for the broken flow of mana to realign itself within me. I struggled as Gunn dragged me away.

I felt a hideous sensation of deja vu then, for it was a sight that I had seen before.

And the memory suddenly rushed into my mind.

Winter Castle. Warlord. Uncle Bale, and the knights… the knights…

The memory of that day stirred within my mind, of when I had been forced to flee because of my lack of strength, forced to leave my uncle to face his death.

But this day was not the same: Sigrun was not the Warlord, and her greed and power were greater by far. Sigrun began striding toward Gunn and me.

Any half-elf who barred her way was cut down.

Now only three swords-elves remained, Gunn included.

The two others began their sword dance and moved in toward Sigrun.

Before their sad, tongueless humming could reach a crescendo, Sigrun’s sword flashed.

‘Swuck!’

The first one’s arms were severed.

‘Stluk!’

The other sank to the ground as his legs were cut off.

‘Qlup! Qlup!’

Sigrun’s blade pierced their hearts.

“Ah…” Gunn swiveled around. I knew that she would not be able to defeat the Elder High Elf.

I grabbed onto Gunn and pushed her away.

“Ah! Ahhhhh!”

It was the first time she ever got angry at me.

It was foolish to face a monster that you couldn’t hope to fight against, even if you’re fine with dying. And Gunn’s eyes told me she was ready to die for me.

I shook my head at her.

“I can’t escape anyway, Gunn. And there is no need for me to run.”

I lamented, looking at the bodies of the slain swords-elves.

“I’d rather speak than run.”

No, their deaths weren’t their fault. This was my battle, and I didn’t realize what would happen if I brought the half-elves with me.

“No, if only I had realized it earlier.”

If only I had known how much they hungered for revenge. If only I had known that the hatred was set so deep into their marrow that they would throw their lives away like this.

If I had known, none of them would have died.

I thrust out my chin and fixed my sword before me.

Sigrun approached, drenched in blood.

She smiled as she reached out to me and whispered in an angelic voice, “Let’s go together.”

I shook my head and raised my sword up high overhead.

What existed in the corners of Sigrun’s crescent-shaped eyes was utter arrogance and ridicule.

“There’s nothing you can do. The outcome does not change,” she told me.

“You don’t know that. I have yet to pay my price.”

As I spoke, Sigrun took a step toward me.

I met her gaze.

‘Qlschuup!’ and I stabbed the sword into my stomach – Dragon Slayer, my true body.

Sigrun’s eyes stretched wide. I groaned as my body grew stiff.

The world stopped moving, and in that motionless world, I began whispering.

“Here I sing with my red blood”

It was a song that had not left any lips for many ages.

“Of the ancient winter, the frozen world”

“Of the lord of storm and frost”

A magical poem that forcibly awakened the sword that deeply slumbered by offering my life to it.

“Answer, Gruhorn!”

It was a song of oath.

‘Wluschwlusch,’ my true body, piercing my stomach – Gruhorn, Dragon Slayer – began to ravenously feast upon my blood.

I gave strength to both my hands and pulled the sword free.

“That hurts bad-“

There was not a drop of blood. I wasn’t sure if my true body had consumed all the blood, or whether it was because the wound was frozen.

It didn’t even matter.

The only thing that now mattered was the Elder High Elf before me.

“Look clearly, Elder High Elf,” I said as I looked at Sigrun, a being stiffened by shock.

“This is what you’ve been hoping for.”

I raised my sword high.

“Let’s dance the dance of the Dragon Slayer!”

I lowered my blade, readied it, and in my heart, I sang the song that killed Gwangryong.