I Became the First Prince: Legend of Sword's Song
Chapter 3: Prince of Mangani (2)

Prince of Mangani (3)

The message did not linger long enough for me to organize my thoughts.

『Judgment can be used limitedly.』

“If my opponent is equal or lesser than me, I could confirm their power level,” I tell myself, “Hey! Wait! What are you?”

But the voice didn’t answer me. It went on with its announcements, as though it did not hear me.

『Third Eye can be used very limitedly.』

『Vision is improved.』

『Third Ear can be used very limitedly.』

『Hearing is improved.』

“What is this…” was all I could say as the weight of all these manages to pile up into one big confusion.

Even long after I received the last message, the words still lingered in my mind. I still could not wrap my head around everything that has happened so far in such little time. But using the actual skills I unlocked wasn’t very difficult.

“In… sounds… words… I can’t go in?”

“… I don’t know his personality… I went… I can’t be safe…”

Though not as clear and perfect as my original ability, Third Ears still improved my hearing enough to catch the ladies’ faint whispers outside my room. Third Eyes also allowed me to see the world in sharper details than most human eyes.

“Haha!” Excitement replaced confusion as new possibilities opened for me now that I have reacquired some of my powers.

“… That … Ugh, loss…”

“… Until irresponsible … People who suffered … He can’t sleep …?”

“… I don’t know about it … Ground… bottle… Many people …”

“Ugh”, I suddenly felt exhausted after using Third Ear to listen to the ladies talking outside my door. I grabbed my head to soothe the pain that came with exhaustion.

『All of the mana in the body has been exhausted. The use of power has been forcibly stopped.』

The dream-like voice appeared again and informed me of my condition. Only then did I understand what “can be used very limitedly” meant. This limit is such a foreign experience to me after all the centuries I spent as a sword with near limitless power. My current ability to recognize my immediate surroundings is a far cry from my former ability to overhear sounds and see objects from a far distance with precise details.

First, I have to grow a mana vessel if I want to reclaim the full glory of my powers. Considering the abilities I unlocked after making a mana heart, I’m sure increasing the amount of mana in this body would result in more of my powers returning to me.

I was just about ready to restart the process of accumulating mana when a grumbling sound from my stomach broke my focus. I have nearly forgotten that human bodies consume energy in a way swords don’t. Perhaps the creation of the mana heart drained this body, and now it requires more food to replenish its strength.

Unable to bear the hunger any further, I called in the servant.

“Your Highness?” asked the servant.

“I’m hungry.” A short declaration of an order to bring me food.

The girl’s eyes flickered to the window where the moon hung in the night sky. Now was not the right time for a late-night snack.

“I’ll get you something, Your Highness.”

Being a prince meant servants have to follow your orders despite what their instincts might say. Now might be the one time this princely body worked in favor of him today.

***

I devoted the next few days to fill my heart with mana. Giving up because of the poor qualities of this body was not an option for me. Today, a visitor came while I was working on mana.

“Your Highness, I am your new escort sent by His Majesty,” said the handsome young man in golden armor. The royal coat of arms on his chest gave away his identity without being asked—he was a royal knight that served directly under the king.

“Where was the old escort?” I asked. He does not look familiar, and I don’t remember seeing him when Prince Adrian first claimed the sword.

“Everyone has been removed.” He replied, his tone flat and formal.

I pursed my lips at his reply. Young men join the Knights of the court with big dreams. Often, they had to sacrifice a lot to get a chance at being accepted, and to be admitted into the knight’s service is a dream come true. But it seems that they got kicked out of the palace before they could even spread their wings because of the prince’s terrible accident. It wasn’t only Adrian’s life and future that were lost that day.

Losing my powers came at the price of getting a new body, but all those young and promising knights who lost their future that day lost everything and gained nothing.

“If you need anything, please call me,” he said. The new escort briefly greeted me and left. Already I can tell he is a faithful and sincere man.

“Wait,” I stopped him from leaving the room just long enough for me to use Judgement. I felt it was necessary to know him better since he will be my escort moving forward.

□ Carls Ulrich [Male, 24 years old]

□ Aptitude. [N/A]

□ Characteristics. [N/A]

Like my Third Ear and Third Eye ability, Judgment is also not as potent as it used to be. The only bits of information I managed to gather were his name and age. Judgment being “limited” prevents me from knowing my target’s aptitude and characteristics until I find a way to level up my powers.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” he responds.

“Nothing, you may go now,” I made a rough gesture giving him the go signal to leave.

Just when I thought I would finally be alone again to go back to my mana training, another visitor popped up. This time it was the queen.

“I took all the medicine you sent, mother”, I said politely.

Her face was painted all over with delight at hearing those words. Something tells me she half expected me to throw away all of the concoctions she had prepared.

The door opened, and an old man entered. From the looks of things, it seems that he had been waiting outside this entire time.

“Do you remember him?” The queen asked.

I fixed my eyes carefully at him, pretending that I was trying my best to recall who he is even if I honestly have no idea. After what seemed like enough time, I shook my head as a final answer.

The queen sighed.

“Do you see? My child has become… this,” the queen said to the old man.

“I must confess,” the old man began, “I thought it was only a rumor that he lost his memory after the accident.”

The old man was so outspoken, and his tone was fierce. It was evident he never liked the prince then or now.

“He’s your only nephew,” the queen said, revealing the man’s identity as my uncle.

“I came here because I couldn’t refuse my sister’s request,” he says, eyes fixed on me, “what I can do is simply reduce that weight. Beyond that, I can’t do anything else.”

The queen bit her lips. She didn’t like having her worst suspicions confirmed.

“Even that much is incredible,” uncle says, trying sound positive, “don’t forget that now.”

With those words said, he walked out of the room just as fast as he appeared. Clearly, he wants nothing to do with me.

“Do not take your uncle’s words to heart,” the queen said, trying to reassure me.

I wanted to say many things, but I stayed silent. The prince’s relationship with his mother was still something I haven’t fully understood yet.

“Take an effort to change the minds of others regarding you,” she said before rising from her seat and leaving.

Thump. The door closed and opened again, giving way for the uncle and housekeeper to enter.

“If you want me to treat you like a prince, give up now,” he said, his words sounding more like a threat than a warning. Uncle’s face slowly inched closer until it was close enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.

“I didn’t come here to suckle the prince,” he said, “I came here to kick my ugly nephew’s butt.”

He was a pretty honest man with his feelings. He soon delivered on that promise as he kicked my ass then and there.

“From now on, eating, drinking, and breathing will all require my permission,” he warned before leaving.

The next day, I was already at the training ground in the first royal palace corner when I woke up.

“What is going on?” I had many questions on my mind, one of which is how did I even get here?

Uncle laughed, not the kind of laugh you would hear from old people; it was more like a ferocious cackle from a bitter wolf.

“You know what? I changed my mind, and I’m going to teach you a bit of our family’s visionary fencing.”

It would’ve been a child’s play in my other life, but this body, with its inadequacies, is another story. I could only fake a faint smile in response to his challenge.

“It’s a bit embarrassing to see your fat jiggle,” he quips.

My face must not have been very well suited for expressing delicate emotions because the old man quickly burst out laughing.

“Your face is so soft,” he jests.

This time I forcibly calmed my emotions and arranged my thoughts. I wasn’t going to give uncle the upper hand this time. Besides, I could use this opportunity to train this body. While I’m not too fond of his attitude, I have to agree that this bloated body is indeed troublesome. Even just a little movement is enough to fill my breath to the end of my chin. The sound of breathing each time I pant makes me feel bad. Not only that, but I also sweat so much that no matter how many times I changed my clothes, they still get drenched quickly.

Training this body to become fit was not a bad idea. The problem was my pride. I don’t particularly appreciate how uncle looks at me. This wasn’t what I had hoped to be, and his condescending attitude towards the fact that I am still alive does not help at all.

“Uncle,” I began, in an awkward tone I quickly regretted, “let us bet.”

Uncle raised his chin instead of answering. It was hard reading his expression, but it was clear that there is a hint of curiosity hiding behind his eyes.

“Within half a year, you will make me give up,” I continued before he loses interest at my wager.

“What if you can’t?” He asks, almost sneering.

“I will do what you say, uncle,” the only offer that will ever be enough to tempt him to agree.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Uncle chuckled with satisfaction thinking he had already won before the wager even began. It was the first truly happy face he had ever shown in the limited time I have gotten to know him. He is a twisted man for getting riled up at the thought of seeing his nephew broken, defeated, and submissive to his will.

“And what happens if you somehow win?” He asks, laughing at the possibility.

“In that case, you must fulfill my wishes.” I smile, returning the same ferocious smile he threw at me earlier.

Uncle studied my face for a moment. He was probably wondering where I get all of this confidence at winning.

“Good. It will be fun. I would have something to enjoy,” he says.

And with that, the wager began. I started running. I devoted myself to burning the fat off my whole body.

“Wait,” uncle grabbed my wrist.

In that brief connection, I felt energy flow through my body through my wrist, where he held me. I did not resist; instead, I activated my second mana heart.

“Are you making mana hearts?” He asked, perplexed and bewildered at the thought of his fat and useless nephew doing something so utterly inconceivable for a person like him.

But this confusion was soon replaced by laughter as uncle used it as another excuse for an ill-timed jest.

“I would never have imagined you were capable of achieving anything,” he says, “I feel like you made a bet just because you managed to make a mana heart.”

“Some time ago, I managed to make it,” I say, looking straight at uncle and cutting him off from another jest. I was so excited to show him that this is not the same nephew he could kick down on the ground.

“Where did you even learn how to make mana hearts anyway?”

His expression wasn’t something I expected. He does not seem to be the type to be surprised by small achievements. He does not even seem worried about his odds at winning our wager.

He was staring at me; his intentions still unclear.

“Never mind that,” he says, “I don’t get the point of making mana hearts.”

Despite being having lived for centuries as a formidable sword, I still felt embarrassed at his reprimand.

“Look at you,” he continues, “you don’t even know that it was wrong.”

His statement caught me off guard. Making mana hearts was something to be celebrated, not rebuked. That was what I have always known. It was common sense.

“It’s a low-level skill for low-raking mercenaries,” he says.

That single statement from uncle utterly degraded me.