I Became the Youngest Prince in the Novel

TL/Editor: Rungir

Schedule: 5/Week Wed-Sun

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The room was filled with a heavy silence.

Finally, Zion broke it, his sleepy yet calm gaze meeting Ahmad's. "What matters isn't who I am," he began, his eyes lighting up with determination, "but that I am Zion Agnes in front of you and that I've survived in the Imperial Palace until now."

Ahmad could sense a strong resilience in Zion's eyes, a strength so powerful that it reminded him of Emperor Urdios in his prime. It was an intensity that made him question, 'Did Zion really change?'

Ahmad knew what Zion had been through in the Imperial Palace. Discarded by his own family before he turned ten, exiled to the Palace of Chimseong, treated as an embarrassment, and surviving countless murder attempts and contempt.

'Has he survived in the Imperial Palace?' Ahmad thought. Such changes are rare but do happen. Either when someone's life hangs by a thread or when destiny takes a twist. Perhaps, in Zion's case, it was the former.

'Did the Agnes bloodline awaken late in him?' Ahmad pondered, a shadow of sadness briefly crossing his eyes. The Imperial Palace must have been a cruel place for Zion to endure to the point of changing his nature just to survive.

"I was wrong to ask who you are, Your Highness. I apologize. Now, could you tell me why you are here?" Ahmad asked again, bowing in apology.

"There are three things," Zion responded, holding up three fingers. "I need information on the Strange Doctor, a magic circle that needs improvement, and I need your help once."

The Strange Doctor was a famed medic in Frosimar, considered one of the top three in the land. His unorthodox methods earned him his nickname. In terms of enhancing the human body, he was unrivaled, the best in the empire without question.

The Strange Doctor was elusive, always moving and impossible to find unless you knew someone who knew him. Ahmad, who was standing in front of Zion, was one of the few who did.

Zion planned to boost his weak health with the Strange Doctor's help.

"I could help you get in touch with the Strange Doctor and improve the magic circle if you give me a reason... but I can't assist you directly," Ahmad responded, shaking his head slightly. "I'm retired and devoted to this University Magic Tower. I don't answer to my family or the Imperial Palace anymore. If I were to help you, I'd break my promise."

This was a statement only those at the top could make. The power to choose their own path, not bound by family or palace, was a privilege held only by those at the pinnacle of power.

Zion's calm gaze didn't waver at Ahmad's words. He had expected this response and was ready for it.

"What if the task I need help with isn't related to the Imperial Palace but to this University Magic Tower?"

Ahmad's eyes grew darker at Zion's words. "What do you mean?"

Zion handed Ahmad a piece of paper. On it was the magic circle for a spell he'd used to control the monsters of the old Chimseong Palace. "This is the magic that needs improving."

Ahmad was silent, studying the unfamiliar magic circle in front of him. His eyes started to shift.

Finally, he asked, "What is this magic used for?"

Zion answered with a small smile. "To find an enemy."

---

---

"Darn it, darn it!!!"

After all the classes had ended, Essian walked down the empty hallway of the university tower, lit only by a dim magic light. He was cursing under his breath, his eyes filled with embarrassment and anger.

He kept replaying the moment when he'd shrunk under Zion's gaze during the lecture.

"I won't forget this, Zion Agnes."

He muttered this promise under his breath, his eyes darting around the empty lecture rooms as he walked down the corridor.

'What's happening?'

Essian was puzzled. He was in the tower because he had received a summons. As the eldest son of a prominent family, he didn't typically respond to every call. But this was different.

It concerned his grades.

Unlike his peers, Essian had a particular reason to maintain top grades at the Empire's University Tower. He had made arrangements with some professors to ensure his success.

Despite being the esteemed Agnes University Tower, not all the professors were incorruptible. Some were willing to bend the rules to advance their own careers or gain some advantage. Essian was one of the students who exploited this opportunity.

'Isn't he aware that contacting me at school like this increases our risk of being caught?'

The person who had summoned him was one of the professors he had an agreement with. He mentioned an urgent matter, which is why Essian returned to the tower. He kept this a secret, of course, as it would be disastrous if it were discovered.

Thump!

Upon reaching the designated lecture room, Essian pushed the door open and entered.

"Essian? Why are you here......"

"What's this, Essian, you too......?"

Inside the dimly lit room, about six students were already present. They were all heirs of notable families, of similar or slightly lesser status than Essian.

Realization dawned upon him. These were students who, like him, had grade deals.

"Why the hell......"

Essian was about to swear when a voice echoed in the room.

"Is everyone here?"

A silhouette emerged from the dark corner of the lecture room. The figure belonged to Professor Proud Lindel, a man who exuded a gentle demeanor, quite a contrast to his role as an ice magic instructor.

Essian, with a creased brow, asked, "You must understand the risks of summoning us here like this. So what's so important that it couldn't wait?"

This was a rather presumptuous tone for a student to take with a professor. However, Professor Lindel maintained a smile, unperturbed by Essian's audacity.

"I didn't call you here for grades. This is something far more important."

With these words, the professor started slowly approaching the students.

"Important matter?"

The professor's demeanor was different from usual, causing the students to take a step back instinctively.

"Today, you all are to fulfill your designated roles."

Professor Proud's gentle voice flowed into the room as he quickened his approach towards the students.

"What are you...!"

As confusion swept across their faces, a black, thorn-like object emerged abruptly, piercing through Essian's chest.

"Guh, why...!"

Essian, struggling to understand the situation, let out a gasp, his life extinguishing abruptly. His eyes mirrored his confusion and disbelief even at the end.

Before Essian's body even hit the floor,

Bang, bang, bang!

Several more black thorns erupted from the bodies of the other students, who looked on in terror.

"Help... ahhhhhh!"

"Arghhhhhhh!"

Their screams filled the room, only to be abruptly cut short. As their lives ended, a gentle smile spread across the face of Professor Proud, or rather, the high-ranking demon, Hiduk.

---

---

"...Should I just return?"

The hallway of the magic tower, once tread by Essian, now echoed with the reluctant footsteps of Tirian Friharden. The only reason Tirian, who found even the smallest task irksome, was here was due to a summons from Professor Proud.

He found it peculiar that the professor, who usually kept his distance, had called him, but when he heard that it concerned an important aspect of his magical education, he felt compelled to come.

"I need to review that magical formula Prince Zion wrote down..."

As Tirian mused aloud, the image of Prince Zion emerged in his mind. Despite rumors painting the prince as a disgrace to the royal family, meeting him in person had inevitably associated the term 'ruler' with him.

What had particularly imprinted itself on Tirian's memory was the sight of Prince Zion flawlessly writing out a complex magical formula without any hesitation.

'It would be impossible to do that without an intimate understanding of the formula.'

How did Prince Zion solve the problem that even he, with memories of his past life as a Grand Magus, could not fully understand?

'Did he have some special knowledge in magic?'

Was it typical for the direct descendants of Agnes to possess such skills?

No, that didn't seem plausible.

'Yet, thanks to him, I've glimpsed a way forward...'

Lost in his thoughts about Prince Zion, Tirian barely realized that he had arrived at the designated classroom. Slowly, he pushed open the door.

Creak-

The classroom door opened effortlessly, seemingly left ajar. As Tirian stepped inside, an unsettling dimness settled over his eyes.

"What's this..."

The pungent odor of blood assaulted his senses, followed by the sight of the moonlit room. Scattered haphazardly between the lectern and chairs lay a handful of lifeless bodies.

"They haven't been dead long."

Instantly identifying the victims as students from the university's magic tower based on the residual magic, Tirian approached the bodies with an impassive gaze.

Punctured all over, the corpses were a gruesome sight, appearing as if impaled by a multitude of spears. Despite the horrific scene, Tirian was perturbed by something else.

The magical energy emanating from the bodies' wounds was of such intensity that even a layman could sense it. It was as if there had been no intention to conceal it in the first place.

'Dark magic? Or...'

Tirian's eyes flickered with a blue light as he reached out to touch the magical energy, tracing the vestiges of magic left behind with his fingers.

A unique tracking magic exclusive to him.

He was fully aware of the severity of the situation: a magical murder had occurred within the Imperial University Magic Tower, located in the capital's heart. Consequently, despite his inherent apathy, Tirian couldn't dismiss the situation.

His mind churned with thoughts as he rapidly pieced together the puzzle.

'Surely, it was Professor Proud who summoned me here. But he's nowhere to be seen. Then this implies...!'

Just as Tirian, who had quickly arrived at a conclusion, steeled himself to leave the classroom,

"Ti, Tirian! What on earth are you...!"

A shocked cry emanated from the direction of the classroom door. It was Professor Proud, looking at him with horror-filled eyes.

Before Tirian could respond,

"What's happening?"

About half a dozen professors, apparently alerted by Professor Proud's cry, approached the room.

"W, what is this!"

Their faces mirrored their horror upon witnessing the classroom's crime scene.

At that moment,

Whoosh!

The magical energy emanating from the corpses converged on Tirian, flaring up dramatically and wrapping around his right hand.

"That's... magic!! Could it be that you, Tirian!"

One of the professors, immediately recognizing the magic energy, darted his gaze between the bodies and Tirian's encased hand, voicing his disbelief.

Tirian stood amid the strewn corpses, emanating magical energy. The scene painted him undeniably as the prime suspect. Handling such magic energy, after all, was a grave offense that could warrant execution.

'I'm well and truly caught.'

The thought flickered across his mind as he glanced at the stubborn magic energy clinging to his right hand. This was a trap, a deliberate snare laid just for him.

In this life, he was merely a student of the university's magic tower, without any notable influence or connections. His complacency had led him to fall into this trap; he had never expected anyone to go to such lengths against him.

'This is becoming quite the nuisance.'

Turning his gaze towards Professor Proud, Tirian followed the traces of magic visible solely to him, leading straight to the professor.

'If this continues, I'll undoubtedly be framed.'

While certain that Proud was the mastermind, there was no way to prove it presently. If arrested under these circumstances, he would likely be sentenced to death before he could properly clear his name. Those who could ruthlessly sacrifice noble children for a trap wouldn't hesitate to corner him with falsified evidence.

'Therefore, I have no choice but to escape.'

His university status would be revoked, and he would become a fugitive of the Empire, but that seemed a better fate than capture.

"Tirian, surrender peacefully, and we won't resort to violence."

The professors' words contradicted their actions as they readied their magic and gradually closed in on Tirian. Their eyes had already cast him as the criminal.

As Tirian covertly prepared his magic and moved toward the window, a solitary voice resonated in the room.

"Interesting developments, it seems."

The voice, though faint, was clear, as if whispering in their ears. Perhaps it was the veiled threat within the voice that compelled everyone to turn toward its source, seemingly in unison.

Soon, under their collective gaze,

Thud, thud.

The figure of Zion, shrouded in darkness and sauntering toward them with half-closed, sleepy eyes, began to materialize.

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