The bandit gripped his sword tightly, veins bulging along his arm, while I slowly took my stance.
I lowered my center of gravity, feet slightly apart, my short sword raised in a ready position—not flashy, but enough to respond to anything.
At the same time, something began to change.
Energy from the man's body flowed rapidly into his blade.
The blade… glowed red.
That light was not merely a reflection. It was Aura—a power that strengthens both body and weapon, pushing them beyond human limits. The air around us grew heavier, as if an invisible pressure was pressing into the space between us.
"You will regret this!" he roared, his voice overflowing with emotion.
Without further warning, he charged.
His movement was fast—too fast for an ordinary human. However—
'Is he really an Aura user?'
My mind worked quickly, analyzing every detail.
His movement was indeed fast. Strong. But… open.
Too open.
There was no proper distance control, no adjustment of rhythm, not even an attempt to read his opponent. Every attack was driven by emotion, not technique.
His stance did not reflect that of a knight.
Not even a seasoned fighter.
More like… a child throwing a tantrum, swinging power without direction.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
My movements flowed effortlessly as I avoided his slash.
A light step—just half a shift to the side—was enough to let his blade pass through empty space.
The wind from the swing barely touched me.
Too slow.
I could feel the Aura flowing into his sword. The energy was real—dense, wild, and unstable. Yet… there was no control. No precision.
Just raw power wasted carelessly.
'This… is an Aura user?'
In one smooth motion, I stepped around behind him.
Without giving him any time to react, my leg rose and struck his back hard.
"Ugh—!"
His body lurched forward, losing balance, then crashed face-first onto the wooden floor with a heavy sound.
A thin cloud of dust rose.
I stood upright behind him, my sword still ready, yet not rushing to attack.
"Come on," I said flatly, tilting my head slightly. "That is Aura… but are you really a knight?"
My question was not merely mockery.
It was an assessment.
He growled, a low sound filled with restrained anger. His shoulders trembled as he pushed himself back up, gripping his sword as if it were the only thing keeping him sane.
He did not answer.
Instead—he attacked again.
Faster. Rougher.
And still… full of openings.
I simply shifted my body slightly, letting his attack pass, then with a light push, sent him crashing down again.
Once.
He rose with difficulty.
Twice.
His breathing grew erratic.
Three times.
The Aura on his blade began to flicker unstably.
Yet he kept advancing.
Like someone refusing to accept reality.
I let out a soft sigh.
"Enough."
My voice was cold, cutting his movement before he could attack again.
He froze for a moment, staring at me while gasping for breath.
"I've seen enough," I continued, looking at him without emotion. "Your ability… is far different from the reports I received."
I stepped closer, each step echoing heavily in his ears.
"So…"
I stopped right in front of him.
"Are you a fraud?"
That word struck him harder than any blow.
His body trembled.
His eyes widened.
"No…" his voice was hoarse.
Then, suddenly—
"NO! IF IT WEREN'T FOR THAT KID, I WOULD HAVE BECOME AN OFFICIAL KNIGHT!"
His scream broke out, filled with anger, regret, and something deeper—despair.
The room fell silent.
I stared at him without blinking.
'So that's it…'
Someone defeated in the past, broken by reality. But instead of rising again… he chose to blame others.
I let out a small breath.
Assessment complete.
'Trash.'
"…Whatever."
"AAAAH!"
He charged again, this time more brutal. There was no form left, no technique—only an outburst of emotion. His red Aura flared wildly, but without direction.
His sword rose, then came down in a horizontal slash with all his remaining strength.
But I had already moved. Stepping into his range, closing the distance instead of retreating.
Then—
I leaped lightly.
My body spun in the air, avoiding the path of his slash by a narrow margin.
Time seemed to slow.
My eyes captured every detail—his open position, his lost balance, the unstable Aura.
A perfect opportunity.
In one motion—
Fast. Clean. Without hesitation.
As my feet touched the ground again, my step sounded light.
I stood upright.
Behind me, the man's body stopped moving. For a moment, he remained standing… then slowly collapsed to the floor.
Silence filled the room.
I flicked a bit of blood from my blade, then sheathed it calmly.
"Tch…" I clicked my tongue softly.
"I got fooled."
He was not even worth respect.
I turned away without looking back.
The remaining bandits trembled, the merchants lowered their heads even further, and even my guards fell silent, realizing the difference in power they had just witnessed.
"Clean everything up," I ordered shortly.
Several guards immediately moved, dragging bodies, securing the area, and ensuring nothing was left behind.
I walked toward the door, then paused briefly.
"And Harris."
"Yes, Prince."
"Hold a public execution."
Harris was slightly surprised, but quickly nodded.
"Understood, Prince."
I looked out toward the city of Ofia, still wrapped in night.
"This time…"
My voice was low, yet firm.
"I will deliver the speech myself."
That night ended in silence.
...
That morning, people flocked toward the city square.
Announcements from the guards had spread since dawn—the new lord would carry out an execution of a group of bandits.
However, no one truly knew what those bandits had done.
To the people, this was nothing unusual. In their minds, they were likely just ordinary bandits—robbers who attacked carriages or disturbed noble affairs.
Nothing more.
One by one, the prisoners were brought onto the wooden platform.
Their hands were bound, but their faces were not covered.
Some in the crowd began to observe closely. A few found the faces familiar, but none dared to conclude anything yet.
At the same time—
A young man stepped onto the stage.
Sieg Heisenberg.
His presence immediately drew attention. For the people of Ofia, this was their first time seeing the third prince—and their new lord—directly.
His gaze was calm, his steps steady. Without excessive display, his mere presence was enough to gradually quiet the atmosphere.
He stood at the center of the stage, looking out at the crowd.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat softly, then began to speak.
"Good morning, my beloved people."
That sentence… felt unfamiliar.
The crowd fell silent instantly. Some glanced at each other, confused by what they had just heard.
A noble—especially a prince—addressing commoners like that?
That was not something normal.
In fact… it could be said it had never happened before. Confusion began to spread among them. Yet on the stage, Sieg remained calm.
As if he had anticipated that reaction from the very beginning.
"You must be wondering… why I asked you to gather here to witness the execution of these vile criminals."
Sieg's voice echoed across the town square, amplified by magical sound enhancement. His tone was firm, deep, and full of weight. His gaze swept sharply across the crowd, restraining the anger he had harbored for so long.
"Since I was assigned to this city…" he continued, "I have walked through its streets. The very streets you travel every day."
He paused for a moment.
"You may not have noticed my presence then."
His gaze hardened.
"But that doesn't matter."
His voice dropped lower, yet it felt even heavier.
"What matters… is what I saw."
The morning wind blew gently, carrying a silence that slowly enveloped the crowd.
"I saw suffering."
His voice deepened.
"I saw my people… living in misery."
Some began to bow their heads.
"I saw you having to think every day—what you could eat today… and whether you would even have food tomorrow."
His words pressed slowly, one by one, striking their hearts.
"And now…"
Sieg raised his hand, pointing toward the prisoners behind him.
"Look at the people before you."
His gaze was cold.
"They are the main perpetrators… the ones who have caused your suffering."
His voice grew sharper.
"The ones who made you starve!"
The crowd began to murmur. Confusion turned into shock.
Sieg stepped forward, his gaze intensifying.
"They are greedy demons!" his voice boomed, reverberating across the entire square.
"The ones who drained your blood… until nothing remained!"
Some citizens began exchanging glances, their expressions changing.
"They hoard food! They raise prices at will!"
His voice rose further, full of anger that he no longer tried to hide.
"Their dirty hands…" he continued, pointing directly at the prisoners, "collaborated with the bandits who terrorized this city!"
The crowd grew louder.
Faces that were once confused now burned with rage.
Then—
Sieg raised his voice higher than before.
"THESE ARE THE GUILTY ONES!"
The shout echoed, splitting the morning air, striking the hearts of everyone who heard it.
Then, simultaneously, hundreds of voices in the crowd rose.
Curses, shouts, and cries of anger surged into the air, forming a wave of fury that seemed to consume the entire square.
"Filthy scum!"
"Because of you, my child is dead!"
"Return my wife and daughter!"
Every word spoken reopened old wounds, reflecting the suffering they endured daily—hunger, theft, and manipulation by merciless, greedy hands.
Some citizens punched the air, expressing long-suppressed rage; some shed tears, others screamed uncontrollably.
The prisoners on the stage began to lower their heads, their faces pale.
I raised my hand slowly, signaling the crowd to calm down for a moment.
"Please, calm yourselves," my voice sounded firmer, slightly amplified by the sound magic. "They will no longer terrorize or manipulate you. Because of the greed of these demons, your lives have felt like hell.
They took your children, your wives, your families… They were paid unfairly, suffered hunger and fear.
Your anger… is justified.
But today, you may feel relief. These demons will no longer haunt your lives.
And I promise… in the future, you will never have to fear people like them again. Because I am here."
Silence enveloped the square.
Every citizen looked at me, weighing the words that had just come from the prince's lips. This speech… was not just words, but a tangible promise.
Suddenly, a shout broke the silence, loud and clear from the middle of the crowd:
"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"
For a moment, all eyes turned toward the source of the voice.
Then, like sparks igniting a pile of dry wood, one cheer after another followed.
"LONG LIVE THE PRINCE!"
"LONG LIVE SIEG!"
The wave of the people's cheers now filled the square, loud, resonant, shaking the morning air.
Faces that had been pale now brightened, their emotions shifting from anger to newfound courage and hope.
I looked at the crowd, remaining calm, yet inside… I knew today was the beginning of something much greater.
Then I turned toward the executioner.
The man wore a burlap mask, his body large and upright, while a massive axe was firmly gripped in his hands. His movements were calm, almost ritualistic, yet every step carried an undeniable sense of dread.
The criminals had been lined up neatly: six in front—the corrupt merchants—and the remaining twelve were the captured bandits.
The executioner did not rush.
The sound of the axe striking, metal clashing, and their screams echoed through the square.
The crowd remained silent for a moment, some covering their mouths, some watching with eyes wet from both fear and relief.
Yet beneath the tension, the cheers of the people could also be heard, acknowledging that justice was now being served.
That day was not merely an execution—it was a symbol.
For Sieg Heisenberg, the third prince standing on the stage, today marked the first step of a great change that would shake the Melancia kingdom.
A kingdom rotting from within—today, it began to be repaired.
And the people… for the first time in their lives, saw real hope emerge before their eyes.