I Became the Youngest Prince in the Novel

TL/Editor: Rungir

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The Blood Tower.

A place for wizards who wield blood magic to gather. Unlike other towers, each dedicated to different forms of magic, there was only one Blood Tower in the Empire, hidden from the public eye.

Blood magic was frowned upon. The rituals, involving blood, were unsettling, causing unease among people.

At the top of the Blood Tower, a large study room was present.

"Hmm…"

A middle-aged man sat there, deeply lost in thought. His sharp features and striking red tattoos under his eyes were quite unique. His name was Kerma Drakols, the master of the Blood Tower.

He was worried.

The skill level of the blood wizards affiliated with the tower was dropping.

"If this continues, the tower itself could be in danger."

Blood magic was tough, greatly relying on natural talent. It was harder to define by the level system and its theories were complicated. So naturally, it was more challenging to improve the skills of blood wizards than those of other magic forms.

To add to the issue, Kerma himself didn't quite match up to the masters of other magic towers.

"It's hopeless."

The blood wizards needed to band together, but there were already so few of them, and they lacked unity, making the situation worse.

"If only we had someone like the 'Thousand-Year Witch'…"

Kerma thought of the greatest blood wizard from two hundred years ago. The Evil Queen, the One-Man Army, the Thousand-Year Witch. She was the only blood wizard who had reached the 'sky' and was infamous for taking many lives.

Despite the fact that her actions tarnished the image of blood wizards, they still considered her era as blood magic's golden age. Her power was unmatched, her name held immense weight. But now, most people had almost forgotten her.

"No, I wish the 'Thousand-Year Witch' herself would come."

As Kerma was about to sigh again, something happened.

Boom!

A loud explosion echoed from below.

"What's that?"

It had been ages since Kerma heard such a commotion. Curious, he opened the lab door.

"Lord! We have an intruder! You need to see this."

"An intruder? Here?"

Guided by the wizard at the door, Kerma began to descend swiftly.

The Blood Tower, hidden by magic, wasn't easy to breach. This intruder, causing such a disturbance, was no ordinary trespasser.

As he reached the tower entrance, Kerma gasped.

"Aargh!"

About ten wizards were flying in the air.

"What…"

He couldn't believe his eyes.

The wizards in the air were some of the strongest in the Blood Tower. Yet, they were flying haphazardly, crashing into the ground.

Finally, he saw the intruder.

A captivating woman with blood-red eyes and jet-black hair.

"Wh, who…"

"So, you finally appear?"

The woman, Liushina, gave a thin smile as she looked at Kerma, his eyes wide with surprise.

---

---

Three hundred years ago, a wizard named Heinrich Whisperer reached level 10, the transcendent state, and earned the title of Archmage.

He was closer to the truth than any other wizard, a legend said to have seen all the world's secrets and even glimpsed the abyss's end.

Whenever the empire's strongest wizard was named, he was always mentioned.

'That's his past life.'

Among the crowd, a young man yawned, appearing uninterested, his gaze focused forward.

Watching Tirian Friharden, Zion thought to himself.

He didn't look like the reincarnation of an Archmage at all.

At this point, Tirian's magic level wasn't very high, though still unmatched by his peers.

'Considering he remembers his past life as an Archmage, his current level is pitiful.'

Zion knew why.

Laziness.

The characteristic that Tirian developed through reincarnation.

He found most things uninteresting from birth and was annoyed by everything.

He could have overcome it, but maybe because he had achieved everything in his previous life, he didn't feel the need to do so. So he continued to be this way.

'If he joins the hero's party, he'll naturally improve...'

The issue was, due to the incident at the magic tower tonight, Tirian's meeting with the hero would be significantly delayed.

Eventually, after numerous complications, Tirian joined the hero's party. However, by then, the war with the demons had already commenced. Tirian departed for the battlefield with the party without proper synchronization or fully unlocking his powers. This lack of preparation was one of the key reasons for the hero's party's failure to defeat the Demon King.

Zion intended to alter that future.

Normally, if events didn't directly concern him, Zion would turn a blind eye, even if people perished. However, this situation was different.

'If the hero's party fails, the empire will fall.'

Zion contemplated two primary strategies to prevent the destruction of the empire and, more broadly, the world.

First, Zion himself would absorb the entire empire, excising all the corruption to prevent further division.

The second strategy involved rewriting the narrative of the hero and his companions.

The main storyline of these Frosimar chronicles revolved around the hero and his companions—a tale destined to end in failure. Zion decided to interfere with this story from the start, rewriting it entirely.

Just then,

"...So, the academic community still hasn't definitively determined the 'correlation between spatial distortion due to gravity series magic and time.' Does any student wish to share their thoughts on this?"

Despite the unexpected royal observation, the professor calmly posed the question to his students.

A complex magical formula was inscribed on the blackboard next to him.

"..."

The students remained silent.

The professor's question revolved around a complicated issue that even high-ranking magical societies struggled to understand. It was an extremely tough problem for the students, despite their enrollment in the empire's top university.

"No one? Then, in the next lecture, I will provide a simpler example..."

As the professor, who hadn't anticipated a response, prepared to continue,

"Professor."

A voice called out.

"Hmm? Essian, what's on your mind?"

The professor glanced at the pale blond male student who had stood up.

Essian Cluebter.

As the eldest son of the prestigious Cluebter family and a top-tier student at the Magic Tower, he was one of the students the professor recognized.

Essian offered the professor a slight smile, then slowly began to speak.

"Is it only students who may respond to your question, Professor?"

"Well, no. Essian, what do you mean?"

"If others may offer insight, I propose we hear from Prince Zion, who is currently attending our class."

"....?"

The professor's eyes widened in surprise at Essian's suggestion.

It was a completely unexpected proposition.

Inviting an observer, a royal family member, to weigh in on a magical formula was unprecedented, particularly Prince Zion, who was not renowned for his magical knowledge.

The professor appeared taken aback, but Essian, unfazed by his reaction, continued to advocate his idea.

"It's common knowledge that the royalty of Agnes receives extensive education from a young age. Additionally, the divine blood that courses through their veins endows them with exceptional abilities. Therefore, it's reasonable to assume that Prince Zion would have a basic understanding of magic."

Technically, it wasn't divine blood, but a unique power known as 'Tianxing' possessed by the Agnes family. However, very few were privy to this detail.

"So, His Highness might understand the formula on the blackboard. Perhaps his perspective, while not strictly rooted in the field of magic, could offer a fresh take. After all, he is a prince of the Great Agnes Empire. Since the problem remains unsolved, it would be worthwhile to entertain diverse viewpoints."

The direct descendants of the Agnes Empire, celebrated for their superiority and unique powers.

Essian's proposal cleverly played on these expectations people had for the royal family.

A subtle smirk hinted at Essian's true intent.

Contrary to his proposition, Essian never believed that Prince Zion could solve the formula. In fact, he doubted that Zion would even understand the formula.

Prince Zion, once the black sheep of the royal family, was hardly expected to provide any profound insights.

Essian's intentions, however, were to humiliate Zion.

'How dare he show his face here after severing the engagement with Priscilla?'

While the rumors of the split were widespread, they were inconsequential to him.

What mattered was that Priscilla's attention was riveted on Prince Zion ever since he stepped into the lecture hall.

Even Essian's attempts at striking a conversation were met with cold disregard.

He couldn't fathom why Priscilla, who had once distanced herself from the prince, was now captivated by him.

His heart burned with jealousy and resentment.

'Either way, he will be unable to provide an answer, and if he declines, he will be perceived as a coward.'

Regardless of Prince Zion's reaction, Essian was certain to achieve his objective.

"It's highly unusual to involve an observer in our classroom discussion. Perhaps, the question could be addressed later..."

Just as Professor Proud, somewhat taken aback by Essian's unexpected proposition, was about to diffuse the situation,

"Well, if he seeks my opinion, I suppose I should comply."

Zion's voice was soft but resolute. Rising from his seat, he began his measured stride towards the lectern.

"Pr, Prince Zion...."

Professor Proud called out to Zion, his voice tinged with anxiety. Simultaneously, Essian couldn't help but smirk at the unfolding scenario.

Each step Zion took towards the lectern seemed to amplify the collective scrutiny of the room.

Curiosity, derision, confusion.

The stares were far from friendly.

In all fairness, the situation was like a novice swordsman attempting to cleave a boulder. Zion had defeated numerous magicians but had never delved into the study of magic itself.

However.

He recognized the solution to the formula sprawled across the blackboard.

The correlation between spatial distortion and time as influenced by gravity series magic.

It was a theorem he had encountered once in the chronicle of Frosimar.

Zion stopped in front of the blackboard, his presence causing the other professor, whose expression mirrored Professor Proud's, to step aside. With a casual flick of his hand, he erased the formula from the blackboard.

"....?"

The onlookers watched, their faces etched with confusion.

Swoosh, swoosh-

Unfazed, Zion began crafting a new formula on the blackboard, manipulating the magical chalk with a flick of his finger.

At that moment.

The professors and students observing him, and...

"!!!!!!"

Tirian, who had been sulking at the back of the room, stared wide-eyed in shock.

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