The Scoundrel Prince Sold Out the Empire - Chapter 4

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 4: The Degenerate’s Method (3)
When I first opened my eyes in Zion Riobert’s body, I’ll admit—I was deeply dissatisfied.
Possession was inevitable, I suppose, but… why him? Why this fool, this degenerate who made the Crown Prince look refined, when there were plenty of other competent men to choose from?
It felt like I’d traded the peak of a Grand Mage’s power, the legitimacy of House Dever’s bloodline, and command of the Liberation Army for a body worth absolutely nothing.
That’s why I’d concluded the possession was a loss—pure loss with no gain.
‘I’m going to need to reconsider that judgment, starting now.’
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“T-the Ninth Prince is at it again!”
The surrounding nobles couldn’t hide their shock and alarm.
It was only natural—they’d just witnessed an outburst so sudden it deserved the label “reckless.”
And yet.
There was no need to read the room. Everyone else was reading Zion instead.
“Again? Again what. You—step forward right now.”
The nobleman who’d cried out about the Ninth Prince vanished as though he’d cast Invisibility Magic.
“Anyone else with complaints? Come stand before me this instant.”
……
……
……
Look left or right.
Whisper, whisper. Whisper, whisper.
Everyone scrambled to avert their eyes, terrified they’d be swept up in this mess.
Hah!
‘Strange and awkward as it is… I’m enjoying this far too much.’
Zion Blije had never tasted a moment like this.
An overwhelming rush of liberation.
A freedom so absolute it was almost frightening.
This must be how Zion Riobert lived his entire life—drowning in moments like these.
‘I’ll take full advantage of your degenerate disposition, Ninth Prince.’
I lifted the corners of my mouth, and the body’s lips twisted into a savage grin.
Now it was time to enjoy the privilege of a human fool.
Crack!
“Gahhhhh! The Ninth Prince!”
Smack!
“I, Paul Gabel, am—ungh!—the very man that even the Third Prince, Your Highness, whom you fear so—argh!”
I kept swinging. Again and again.
A thrashing that was, quite simply, exhilarating.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
An assault in the Inauguration Ceremony Hall, mere steps from the Imperial Palace.
The victim: a marquis designated as the next regional governor.
Even in a novel, this would be derided as implausible.
But.
For a human fool like Zion Riobert, it was entirely possible.
Plausibility.
Reality.
“Rigeert. My staff.”
The decorative staff Rigeert carried. I’d found it impressive from the moment I saw it.
For ornamentation, it was remarkably thick and sturdy—almost like a mace.
“Oh, Your Highness, this is terrible! For my sake, please show restraint! I beg you—”
“Would you rather take his place?”
“Right here, Your Highness.”
The grip was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
‘Perhaps this staff was crafted specifically for Zion Riobert’s… purposes?’
Maybe Rigeert had prepared it precisely to savor watching Zion Riobert’s cruelty.
Either way, it was an ideal instrument.
For what?
For crippling a man.
I swung it like I was driving a golf ball.
Thwack!
A clean, crisp impact. Simultaneously, the sickening crack of bone fracturing echoed from his shin.
“Gugh… nngh…”
“Does it hurt?”
“Y-your… h-highness…….”
Begging was useless. This violence served double duty—punishment for the misdeeds she had committed thus far.
The maid who had collapsed after being struck across the face by Marquis Gabel now stood behind him, her expression frozen in terror.
In the eyes of this young commoner who had traveled to a distant land to earn a living and endured hardship for it, fear brimmed over.
‘Half of it is fear of me, I imagine. But don’t worry. You have no reason to fear me at all.’
He offered her a smile.
Brief, so no one would notice. Fleeting enough that she might mistake it for illusion.
Yet simultaneous with that brevity came something certain and gentle.
Her eyes widened in an instant.
Snap!
“Your… your highness… please… spare me…….”
Your plea could not reach the compassion of the true Crown Prince, Marquis. No.
The reason is the same as you, then.
The same as you were at that moment—when you ignored Father’s heartfelt plea.
Crunch—!
The Marquis’s right knee shattered.
* * *
One of the secret hideouts of the Dever Liberation Army.
A solemn voice rang out.
“…In place of our leader, Commander Zion Blije of the Liberation Army, I hereby issue operational orders.”
A figure cloaked in shadow—nearly two meters in height, draped entirely in a cloak, face masked in black—raised a fist to his chest in salute.
The one who returned the gesture was an old man whose hair and beard had turned white as snow, yet whose frame remained vigorous and upright.
Aristh Leisyal, provisional leader of the Dever Liberation Cult.
“Ahhhh.”
Even Aristh Leisyal’s sigh carried an aristocratic air. He was, after all, a descendant of the Leisyal ducal house, the most illustrious noble family in the Dever Kingdom.
“…Reianna. My apologies, and my thanks.”
Reianna laughed, her voice distorted by the mask.
“Don’t think of it that way. It’s my choice. Purely my choice.”
If Marquis Paul Gabel became colonial governor, the Liberation Army’s long-cherished goal would recede another step further.
So he had to be stopped. Even if it took one core operative throwing away her life to carry out an act of terror.
“Assault Captain Reianna. You are hereby ordered to execute an indefinite assassination operation against Marquis Paul Gabel. That is all.”
Reianna turned her body and began to walk away.
“I’ll accompany you.”
“Pardon? You, Aristh? All the way to the Imperial Capital itself?”
The Imperial Capital. The place where the previous commander, Zion Blije, was imprisoned.
Aristh raised his fist to his heart.
“It is the least courtesy I owe you. Besides, I’ve a mind to gather intelligence on the Crown Prince’s recent movements, so hear no refusal from me.”
Crown Prince—those three syllables, like a forbidden word, made Reianna’s breath come rough and ragged.
A harsh, scraping sound emanated from within the cloak, as if something were being dragged violently.
“Calm yourself.”
Even as Aristh counseled restraint, his own face grew heavy and dark.
It was perhaps inevitable.
After all, Aristh was Zion’s most devoted retainer and first teacher—the one who had spirited the young Crown Prince away from the palace and seen to his education.
“Very well, I understand. Let’s go together, Aristh. To the Imperial Capital.”
Thus the two succeeded in making their way to their destination after much difficulty and hardship. After careful deliberation over time, they determined both the timing and the method of the terror attack.
When that man’s incitement reached its peak at the inauguration ceremony, bang!
A small bomb that could be smuggled in would produce maximum effect.
“In three minutes’ time, the moment Gabel deploys the Mass Frenzy Enchanted Device, I will detonate the bomb.”
Though the enchanted device itself would normally have only minimal effect, Gabel possessed brilliant propaganda skills and eloquence that amplified the device’s impact to its fullest potential.
He was an irreplaceable talent in the Empire when it came to propaganda. And precisely because of this, they were willing to resort to terror to prevent him from becoming governor.
“Understood. Once more… I salute your loyalty. I shall never forget it as long as I live.”
“I will depart now. Please do return with freedom as a gift to our homeland.”
Aristh and Reianna exchanged their final farewells with solemn resolve.
However.
Reianna’s body never erupted in flames along with the bomb.
There was no need for it to.
“Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep! Eh-beh? Eh-beh-beh? Beh-beh! Beh-eeep!!!”
“……?”
“……?”
“Aristh, is this perhaps another operation of the Cult?”
“No. Today it’s just the two of us.”
“Then…?”
The real chaos, in fact, was only beginning now.
“What? Isn’t that the Ninth Prince over there?”
Aristh’s eyes sharpened in an instant, and hatred began to pour from them.
The Cult’s members could never forget the face of the Ninth Prince.
After all, wasn’t their lord suffering in the Empire’s grasp because of him?
Imprisoned in the deepest cells of the Imperial Prison, locked behind security so stringent that the Cult would break itself and still not breach it.
“Ninth Prince… one day I will surely kill you with these hands.”
It was the moment Aristh spat out those words, thick with resentment.
Clang!
“Clang…?”
Marquis Paul Gabel, struck by a bottle in the Ninth Prince’s grip, was crumpling to the ground.
“What? Aristh, did you see that?”
“I saw it. What in the world is happening right now…?”
And it had only just begun.
“Marquis Paul Gabel. You insulted me!”
Crack!
The violence dispensed by the Empire’s greatest fool exploded across the marquis’s body.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
…Truly resonant. Had the Sound Amplification Enchanted Device been activated?
The sound of slaps echoing across the distance like a wailing ghost.
…Aristh and Reianna looked at each other without a word.
“…….”
“…….”
After a long silence, Reianna rose to her feet and lifted the hem of her broad black cloak slightly.
What revealed itself beneath: her entire body covered in Magical Bombs.
Prepared for terrorism, smuggled here after arduous effort…….
It seemed there would be no use for them after all.
“Commander Aristh.”
“…Yes, Reianna.”
“We won’t need him dead, will we?”
“Hardly seems necessary.”
The collaborator of imperialism, beaten like a dog by an imperial prince, was descending into near death.
Reianna withdrew her hand from the Magical Bombs.
Aristh laughed with genuine delight.
“Live long enough and even the Empire’s greatest fool prince helps us out?”
They had steeled themselves for enormous sacrifice to execute this operation, and yet they’d done nothing and already succeeded.
Or rather, been succeeded for them.
The Ninth Prince had just rendered Marquis Gabel a cripple.
“Given the Marquis’s capabilities, we’ve dealt the Empire a considerable blow.”
“Never thought I’d live to see such a traitor. Heheheh.”
“Well, that’s the Empire’s view, but from Dever’s perspective, we couldn’t ask for a better benefactor!”
Reianna laughed with delight. Joy was written all over Aristh’s face as well.
How many young soldiers had fallen while their aging commander sought to save his own skin?
Even their lord, the Crown Prince, had been among them…….
‘Thank heaven. Truly, thank heaven.’
“Reianna! Disarm the bombs. Let’s go. Success is success either way—today we’ll return and share a drink.”
“You got it. Came here to die, ended up with a feast instead! Lucky break, ahahaha.”
They turned with laughter. At the end of their gaze stood the fool prince, wiping blood from his hands and spitting.
‘Ninth Prince, Zion Riobert.’
You too must die by the Cult’s hand one day.
‘But for today, I grant you thanks. Your wretched actions prevented righteous blood from spilling in vain.’
* * *
“Eeeek!”
“Ah, such cruelty…. Ah…….”
“Madam, are you well? Madam!”
“Someone stop him!”
“Who can stop a prince? Try stopping him yourselves!”
One realization struck him as he observed the reactions around him.
He’d thought he should stop at maiming the marquis, but now it seemed that wasn’t necessary.
“Contact the palace at once!”
“Bring someone else! Someone who can stop the Divine Race!”
“Imperial Guard! Imperial Guard! Guard, heeeelp!”
From far away came the clatter of armor and the thunder of running feet.
The Imperial Guard was finally coming.
‘Even accounting for being outside the palace, they’re rather slow.’
Wait, though.
What if the banquet hall’s size wasn’t the reason they were late?
Should he consider that possibility as well?
‘Consider? I’m no Kairon.’
The old mages had a saying among themselves.
They could parse a ten-page magical formula in a breath, but ask them to decipher a single page of someone’s diary and they hadn’t the faintest idea.
Zion was the same.
His intuition was sharp enough, and he caught inconsistencies readily, but interpreting what they meant? That was his weakness.
‘For now, just focus on beating this bastard.’
How delightful.
“Your Highness! Stop at once!”
The guards threw themselves forward, widening the distance between the marquis and Zion.
They couldn’t risk laying hands on the prince himself, so they moved their bodies to block instead.
But Zion was far from satisfied.
“Don’t interfere.”
A soft murmur. Yet it weighed more than gold.
The guards hesitated, their bodies stopping before their minds could process the command.
It was like the dignity other princes sometimes displayed, except…
No. This was something far greater.
“Y-Your Highness…”
‘If I disobey… he’ll beat me too…’
‘The Ninth Prince has never shown such power before.’
‘Is he capable of exuding such authority?’
“It will be over soon anyway. Watch.”
After giving a glance each to the guards and the surrounding nobility,
he stood before the marquis once more.
“Marquis.”
“Ugh…”
“You have shown disrespect to this prince, who is of the Divine Race. This is contempt for the Imperial House itself, and blasphemy. Therefore, you are a serious criminal.”
He deliberately raised his voice, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
Then he seized the marquis by the collar and dragged him close—there was something only his ear should hear.
Very quietly and softly, so that no one else could listen, he whispered.
“Marquis, your true crime is this: not content with drowning Dever Kingdom in the mire with your worthless tongue, you dared have a hand in the assassination of the late King.”
“Ugh—?!”
Marquis Gabel’s eyes widened in shock. Yet he had no strength left to cry out.
He couldn’t have cried out anyway.
Zion was choking him—quietly, but with all his might.
With every ounce of strength he possessed.
“Therefore, in the name of Prince Zion Riobert, I render unto you this judgment!”
‘In the name of Crown Prince Zion Blije, I render unto you this judgment.’
He knew all too well how to reduce a man to a vegetable.
He’d learned it whether he wanted to or not.
The biological experiment logs he’d obtained while fighting the Empire—there were more than a few volumes.
“The late King awaits you. Go to meet him.”
Dilating pupils trembling violently. Breath catching before it stopped.
In his final death rattle, the marquis cried out his murderer’s name.
“Z-Zion, Zion, Ziooooon!!!”
Crack.
‘What a pity, Gabel. Your final cry will never reach anyone.’
He may have screamed the name Zion Blije,
but everyone else would believe he had cried out the name Zion Riobert.
‘Now Gabel can never regain consciousness. A Healing mage at the apex might manage it, but not through Magical Engineering.’
It’s one of the weaknesses born from Magical Engineering’s choice of versatility and scalability.
As it develops rapidly, it’s a trivial problem that will be overcome in the not-too-distant future.
‘But for Gabel right now, it’s a decidedly grave matter.’
……
……
……
Looking around, everyone had fallen silent.
Faces wrapped in contemplation. Expressions holding every conceivable emotion.
And drawing steadily closer through them all: a single impassive face.
“Ninth Prince.”
A cold, mineral voice. I knew this face.
One of the three most powerful men in the Empire.
Third Prince Garon Riobert.
But something felt deeply wrong about the atmosphere. I shifted only my eyes, reading the nobles’ expressions.
‘Every last one of them… looks absolutely ruined.’
It was a phrase my master Aristh Leisyal despised for its lack of decorum, but no other expression fit.
“The Empire’s subject bows before one of the Divine Race!”
“Enough. For today only, spare the formalities.”
……
……
A silence like frozen glass. Like a rabbit warren when a hawk circles overhead.
Quiet as the grave.
‘What’s everyone so terrified of? I knew he was cold and heartless, but… apparently the rumors don’t do him justice.’
The Third Prince’s emotionless eyes bored into me.
“You did well. To dare such a thing at a celebration of the new year. And while directly defying an order from Garon Riobert, no less.”
One might expect anger, yet his expression never shifted.
Cold. Rigid.
One could almost wonder if he possessed emotions at all.
“Go to my study and wait. Until I decide your sentence.”
The Third Prince issued the command without even asking the reason for the assault.
He seemed to have no interest in the motivations of a fool.
‘No room for excuses. Not that I had any to make.’
Whatever punishment fell, I was prepared to accept it.
After all, I had finally avenged my father. Punishment was nothing.
‘I’d expect at least fifteen years in prison or hard labor, I’d wager.’
I had accepted the price of rendering Gabel a vegetable—I had snapped his neck with my own hands.
As a prince, I wouldn’t face execution, but I would certainly be confined for an enormous stretch of time.
It was a shame. I had only just realized how much this body was capable of doing.
‘There’s nothing for it.’
I smiled bitterly and moved forward.
* * *
The Third Prince’s study.
A measured voice reached my ears.
“Well done.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
Praise from the Third Prince. I stood there genuinely stupefied.
Well done, he said. And I had just beaten a marquis—one slated to become a provincial governor, no less.
“Do you mean it, sir?”
Instead of answering, the Third Prince sat at his desk and began writing something.
“If anyone asks, tell them you were subjected to repeated beatings and recoveries here as a disciplinary measure.”
He wasn’t actually going to beat me, and he wanted me to say that?
I couldn’t even fathom why he wanted our stories to align.
“Consider it a reward from me. Now get out.”
Ah. A reward?
I was baffled for two reasons.
How was that possibly a reward?
Why was he giving me one at all?
‘At least one thing is clear. The Third Prince wanted to stop Marquis Gabel’s appointment as governor too!’
The Empire’s princes are locked in succession rivalry for the throne.
As far as I knew, Marquis Gabel had been neutral, but apparently he’d joined the opposing faction this time.
In that case, it’s not strange for the Third Prince to hand over the position either.
‘The circumstances align too perfectly, don’t they…?’
Zion Blije found himself smiling without meaning to.
Following an old habit etched into his body, Zion Riobert twisted his mouth without thinking.
It seems the governorship itself was a power struggle between the princes, doesn’t it?
…If so.
‘I could cause trouble and extract a reward for it.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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