The Reincarnation Chronicles of a Demon

Even though the training swords weren’t sharp, their impact was still powerful. As Bapharos’ blows struck Riog’s arms and legs, again and again, the accumulated damage was undeniable. Riog’s muscles began to cramp from the repeated blows, his body betraying him as fatigue set in.

“This can’t…! It can’t be like this…!! Damn it…!!”

Riog’s face twisted in frustration as his limbs refused to move as he wished. The humiliation of being watched by so many noble heirs, mixed with his growing anger, turned his face bright red. He bit his lip and glared at Bapharos, but it made no difference. The reality remained the same – he was losing, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“The difference with a true genius is clear. It’s impossible to hit a vital point.”

But it was no compliment – it was mockery, thinly veiled praise. Riog’s face contorted into a grotesque mask of rage, his pride shredded. He was clever enough to understand what was happening. By now he had probably realized that Bapharos was deliberately prolonging the match to keep him in this humiliating state for as long as possible.

Having spent his life being praised within the palace, Riog had probably never experienced such humiliation or defeat. But to surrender in a duel he had provoked was something his pride could not allow.

As Bapharos had planned, Riog was left to wallow in humiliation for a long time. Eventually, his legs gave out in a violent cramp, causing him to drop his sword and collapse to his knees. While Riog gasped for breath, his chest heaving, Bapharos remained calm, needing only a few quiet breaths to steady himself.

“Wow! As expected of Prince Bapharos!”

The noble heirs cheered as they rushed to the training grounds, paying little attention to Riog, who remained on his knees in defeat. A few nobles made polite inquiries about his well-being, but most flocked to Bapharos. The decision of who to ally with had been made.

“You truly are remarkable, Your Highness! To defeat Prince Riog like that!”

“I never realized you were so skilled, Prince Bapharos!”

“A perfect example of talent being surpassed through sheer effort!”

‘They say effort beats talent, but that’s wrong,’

I thought as I listened to the chatter of the nobles. Riog had been an unpolished genius who had flaunted his natural gifts. Bapharos, on the other hand, was a genius who had hidden his abilities, carefully honing them in the shadows for the right moment. Both were born with the kind of talent that merits the title ‘prodigy’, but there was a stark difference between them.

While Riog had relied on his gifts without much effort, Bapharos had piled relentless, bone-crushing effort on top of his talent. It was no surprise that a rift had developed between them – one that Riog could not hope to bridge without changing his ways. As I pondered this, the sycophantic words of the nobles took a sudden and unexpected turn.

“Prince Bapharos is undoubtedly destined to be the next Crown Prince. To be honest, Prince Jaibid never quite seemed suited for the role. If he had ascended to Emperor, I fear the entire kingdom would have grown cold and desolate.”

“That’s true. But now that I think about it, who would win in a duel between the two of you?”

The moment those words were spoken as if on cue, the murmuring crowd of nobles fell silent. But it didn’t last long. Soon after, the conversation shifted toward comparing my swordsmanship to Bapharos’s. Their intentions were painfully clear.

“You’re next.”

They wanted me to step into the ring. The looks they gave me were like those of hyenas who had found fresh prey.

In the corner of the training ground, I saw Riog being helped into the shade by his attendant. Even as he lay by the wall, no one noticed him. The nobles had already sensed it – Riog was finished. Soon he would leave the Academy in shame and be forgotten.

“Of course, Prince Bapharos would win! You all just saw him beat Prince Riog!”

“But Prince Jaibid has always won in past duels, hasn’t he?”

“Idiot, that’s because he let him win! With everyone watching, how could anyone dare defeat the Crown Prince?”

It was as if the nobles were acting in a well-rehearsed play, trying to drag me onto the stage they had prepared for me. Even Bapharos, who usually handled such situations with ease, looked slightly uncomfortable. It was clear that he hadn’t expected this. Although he undoubtedly disliked me, Bapharos wasn’t the type to humiliate those who weren’t his enemies without reason.

Besides, I had once spoken to Father on his behalf. While the words of a dethroned prince might not carry much weight, the opinions of the royal children were never entirely dismissed, especially when they reached Father’s ears.

As I was known to be unemotional, Father probably took my words as an objective assessment and trusted my judgment. This judgment would undoubtedly have gone in Bapharos’ favor, giving him a significant advantage. Knowing this, Bapharos probably had no desire to force a confrontation now, knowing that humiliating me would not benefit him.

That was probably the reason for his troubled expression. Intentionally or not, he now had to destroy someone who had once helped him. It was clear that the thought didn’t sit well with him. But I also knew that he couldn’t ignore the expectations of the nobles.

A dethroned prince who had already served his purpose versus the noble heirs whose support he still needed to secure – it was clear which side weighed more. The balance was clear. Bapharos, driven by the expectations of the nobles, made his way towards me, his steps deliberate.

“Jaibid”

Bapharos said, his voice calm but full of expectation.

“Won’t you come forward? It seems many here aren’t quite ready for the festivities to end.”

As expected, I picked up my sword and made my way towards Bapharos. But before I could take a step, I felt a tug on my sleeve. I turned to find Zetak clutching it, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Following his gaze, I saw Riog still lying beneath the wall.

His bloodshot eyes were squeezed shut and he was biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. His shoulders trembled slightly, suggesting that he was silently crying. It wasn’t physical pain that tormented him, but humiliation and anger. From nearby, I could hear the low chuckles of the nobles, mocking his downfall. They were reveling in the downfall of a once-vaunted genius, their eyes gleaming with cruel glee as if they intended to enjoy the spectacle for as long as possible.

His eyes seemed to ask, ‘If you go up there, you’ll end up like Riog. Will you still go?’ Of course I knew. The nobles hoped I would be the next to fall, defeated and humiliated. Even Zetak, who no doubt wished for my downfall, must have expected the same. That’s why I had planned to throw the fight, to end up in a state similar to Riog’s – just enough to satisfy their expectations.

But wait. If Zetak wanted to see me fall, then why was he stopping me by grabbing my sleeve?

“Zetak?”

Zetark’s expression twisted slightly as if he sensed my confusion, and he let go of my sleeve. He hesitated for a moment, then turned away without a second thought, his eyes cold again.

“He’s probably just gotten a bit attached, worrying like that.”

“Getting spoiled at night, I bet. Not bad for a monster.”

The snide remarks of the nobles echoed. But Zetak showed no reaction. Ignoring them, I made my way to the training grounds, and the nobles quickly surrounded it, eager for the spectacle.

“I was going to warn you, but… never mind.”

I started to speak but stopped when I realized it wasn’t necessary. This was going to go exactly as expected.

“……”

“Are you even listening?”

Bapharos’s voice pulled my attention away from Zetak. I turned to see him standing there, looking somewhat uneasy.

“What did you say?”

“I said this wasn’t what I intended.”

“I know. In that kind of atmosphere, refusing wasn’t an option.”

“Glad you understand. It puts my mind at ease. I’ll make it quick.”

It seemed that Bapharos had no intention of dragging this out and humiliating me as he had Riog. In front of the nobles, he traded a few blows for the show, but I could tell he wanted to end it quickly, and he swatted my sword away with a single blow.

Bapharos raised his sword, but my attention was elsewhere. As his blade lifted, I caught sight of Zetak below the training grounds, his expression hardening. Could it be…?

Before I could fully process the thought, Bapharos lunged.

“Ta-hat!”

Bapharos came at me with a sharp, focused strike, his short battle cry echoing as he swung. I adjusted my stance in response, but my mind wasn’t fully in the fight. Zetak’s reaction below nagged at me, reminding me of something familiar. Yes… it was just like before.

[Your Highness! What if you get hurt? You’re up against Prince Riog! The spoiled prince will try to hurt you!]

It was similar to his reaction long ago when Riog had challenged me to a duel. Zetak had been so worried then, afraid that I might be injured, or worse, become the object of ridicule by the other companions. His face was full of worry, just as it is now.