"In that case... as the prince, I should rise to the occasion and show you... that I am the strongest!"
Alhaitham's eyes gleamed with determination as he faced Sid Kageno, whose ultimate shadow blade was glowing with immeasurable power. Though it hadn't reached the magnitude of a nuclear bomb, the destructive potential was enough to shake the heavens and split the earth.
Indeed, Sid's sword strike was the most terrifying attack that a shadow power user could unleash.
But Alhaitham was determined to surpass it.
"You don't need fancy things to bring out your true power. You don't need this, or this—just an ordinary sword will suffice!"
With that, he discarded the chainsaw-shaped magical structure clutched in his right hand. He flung away the high-speed Gatling gun from his left. Both fell to the ground with resounding metallic clatters.
From his storage space, Alhaitham retrieved a single mithril sword. It was simple in design, nothing flashy. Aside from mithril's property of efficiently storing magic, it was no different from a regular iron blade.
He didn't plan to use the deviant sword EA, despite its fame and strength.
No, he was going to wield something that belonged only to him—an original technique he had forged from scratch.
He closed his eyes and began to release his magic power.
In that instant, the world changed color.
"You really are the greatest enemy I've ever faced," Sid muttered, stunned. "That magic power... how can a human possess such a massive reserve of energy!?"
Alhaitham's presence alone illuminated the pitch-black sky like a beacon.
If an average person's magic capacity could be likened to a pond, and a prodigy's to a flowing river, then Alhaitham's was nothing less than a vast and endless ocean.
At first, his attempt had been reckless and dangerous, just a chaotic experiment—but it had succeeded. Against all odds, it had worked.
"I was just messing around in the beginning," Alhaitham admitted with a smirk, patting his chest. "But thank the gods, it actually worked."
He had discovered the physical limit for a human's magical capacity long ago. The body, no matter how trained or talented, could only hold so much mana—like a 10,000mAh power bank. Once it's full, it can't hold even one unit more. Charging it endlessly changes nothing.
So Alhaitham innovated.
He created a separate space—within his own heart—to store excess magic power. It was an artificial chamber, embedded and fixed within the beating organ itself.
Now, every beat of his heart pumped more than just blood—it stored pure magic.
It was madness. One wrong move in the process, and he would've died instantly. No one had attempted such a thing before. No one would dare.
But Alhaitham had done it. And he had triumphed.
Because of that insane gamble, he had gained a new ability—limitless mana accumulation. As long as he had time to prepare, he could keep storing more, and more, and more.
He had become the ocean.
His body surged with an unstoppable torrent of power. It rushed through his veins like an ancient flood, and he welcomed the storm.
At his feet, a pair of combat boots hummed to life—enchanted flying gear personally crafted for him by Ayato's top artisan, Cyno. The magic circuits blazed blue as they carried Alhaitham into the sky.
"Look to the heavens!" he roared. "This is my ultimate attack!"
"Pierce the skies and split the world—supreme and invincible, I strike with all my might: [Wrath of the King]!"
He channeled his vast ocean of magic into the small mithril blade. In an instant, cracks spread across the sword like spiderwebs. It could barely contain the force surging within it. The structure groaned, trembling as if on the verge of shattering.
It was like pouring the weight of a tidal wave into a teacup. Impossible. Catastrophic. Insane.
But Alhaitham only needed one swing.
"RAAAAHHHHHH!"
"RAAAAHHHHHH!"
Their war cries overlapped.
Sid unleashed his ultimate shadow blade. Alhaitham swung his shattered mithril sword.
The two godlike blows collided.
BOOOOM!!!
The impact tore through the atmosphere.
The earth beneath them evaporated. The sky above split apart.
Words failed to describe the scene.
It wasn't just a battle between two men. It was a clash between divine beings.
Two young gods, born of flesh, battling for supremacy.
And then—
"I didn't expect to lose…" Sid gasped, falling to his knees.
"Of course you did," Alhaitham replied calmly. "Your nuclear-level strike was spread out across a wide area. Mine was focused—precise. The result was inevitable."
"Hah… you're right. I suppose I still have room to grow… but I'm just… so tired."
A large hole had been bored into Sid's chest. His heart was gone, completely vaporized. The attack had been compressed so tightly, so powerfully, that not even his shadow suit's superior defense could block it.
Sid Kageno collapsed to the ground.
Meanwhile, the mithril sword in Alhaitham's hand disintegrated into dust—consumed by the very power he had infused into it.
"I'll remember your name, Sid Kageno," Alhaitham said, his voice soft. "A worthy adversary. The strongest shadow wielder I've faced."
"Thank you," Sid whispered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It's an honor… but such a shame. There are still so many things I wanted to do. So many dreams…"
"You have thirty seconds left, Sid. Your consciousness is slipping. So tell me… are you ready to give up on your ideals?"
Sid's eyes sparkled.
"...No."
Even in his final moments, he smiled brilliantly.
"I won't give up. Even if this attempt fails, there will be a next one. Even if I'm reincarnated a thousand times, I'll keep choosing the path of a shadow wielder."
"Pfft… hahahaha! What a fool! But that's what it means to chase dreams!"
Alhaitham threw his head back and laughed. He was covered in blood, his body aching—but his spirit soared. In that moment, pain didn't matter. Only joy did.
After Sid's final breath faded, the Black Prince stood in silence for a long while.
Then he turned and left without a word.
Back at the castle—
"Okay, who's going to explain what the hell happened here?"
Alhaitham stood at the doorway, expression unreadable as he stared at the silver-haired elf before him.
Beta was a mess. Her clothes were in tatters, with holes and tears everywhere, revealing generous portions of her fair, delicate skin. But despite appearances, she wasn't injured.
Her clothing… had simply been melted.
"L-Lord Alhaitham!" Beta stammered. "I-It's not what it looks like! It was just a slime! A slime that dissolves clothing, I swear! I fell into it by accident!"
"Uh-huh. Sure," Alhaitham replied flatly, raising an eyebrow. "Let's just… go with that."
He didn't look entirely convinced. What kind of otherworldly slime melts clothes and only clothes?
[(Meanwhile, Epsilon was seething with rage.)]
"You sneaky little witch!" Epsilon growled, teeth clenched. "You dared to pull something like this!?"
Her expression was pure fury, a vein bulging on her forehead. She shook with unrestrained rage.
The two had made a wager before the mission—whoever could clean up more bandits would win. Epsilon had just barely come out on top.
According to their bet, the loser—Beta—had to act "embarrassingly" in front of their master.
Epsilon had been hoping to knock down Beta's standing in Alhaitham's eyes.
But she hadn't expected this move.
The "embarrassment" Beta displayed was less about shame… and more about being strategically alluring.
It was shameful, yes—but in a way that any man would secretly enjoy.
Beta: "Hmph~ My plan worked perfectly."
Alhaitham: "As long as you're enjoying yourself…"
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