Crown Prince Sells Medicine
Chapter 22

Demian was there.

In that space suffused with weariness, he stood inside a cage, the burden of exhaustion evident. Demian tightly gripped a lone sword, resembling a vigilant canine.

‘Exactly the same.’

Raciel’s initial impression upon seeing him aligned perfectly with the illustrations from the novel. Demian’s towering height, well-proportioned physique, sleek black hair, sealed lips, and disinterested gaze sweeping across the crowd—all matched precisely.

‘Fortunately, the duel hasn’t started yet.’

Raciel’s thought surfaced at that moment.

Clang! Rumble!

The cage bars swayed heavily.

Gradually, the ground on the other side started to open.

In the midst of the silent spectators and gamblers, a slanted underground tunnel emerged, resembling a cave. From within the tunnel, an unknown growl reverberated.

“Grrrr…!”

A beast?

No.

If it were merely a beast, the growl alone wouldn’t send shivers down one’s spine. It couldn’t have turned the faces of countless spectators pale beyond the bars, plunging them into a chilling silence.

Thump, thump.

“…Troll.”

Amidst a feeble moan, an imposing silhouette unveiled itself. Standing at around 3 meters tall, bulging muscles and tendons pulsated beneath its dark gray skin, reminiscent of armor. Between its torn lips gleamed yellow fangs.

Yet, the most captivating feature of all were its red eyes—devoid of reason, filled with primal animalism and savagery. The troll roared, unabashedly exhibiting its destructive frenzy.

Rooooaaar!

The bars trembled.

The deafening sound was agonizing.

‘He’s supposed to fight that?’

Demian of the Colosseum.

Raciel had already encountered a similar gladiatorial match in the novel. However, the disparity between reading about it and witnessing it firsthand was akin to understanding love through the internet versus experiencing it.

‘This is no joke.’

No ordinary beast could emanate such pressure. The troll’s presence and grandeur were overwhelmingly immense.

In reality, the troll was enormous too, well exceeding 3 meters in height. Its bulky frame consisted entirely of muscles, reminiscent of the hulking figures seen in famous movies.

At that moment…

Tug, tug.

Someone beside Raciel pulled at his sleeve. He turned to replace Gardin, his face drained of color.

“Y-Your Majesty?”

Gardin’s trembling lips quivered as he inquired, “What is that? What is happening here?”

“You’ll see.”

“So… they’re sacrificing that poor man…”

Gardin’s horrified gaze shifted towards Demian inside the cage.

“You mean they’re offering him as food for that troll, and we’re here to witness it? This is…”

“…”

Gardin seemed to have a grave misconception. However, Raciel remained silent.

‘If that unfortunate man Gardin is looking at were to die, the novel would have ended here.’

There was no time for such words. The troll had initiated its charge, bellowing with a thunderous roar.

Rooooaaar!

Thud thud thud! Thump!

The charge was unbelievably swift.

Hwooooah-!

In a flash, the troll leaped over 5 meters, its massive arm resembling a pillar swinging towards Demian.

Whoosh-!

The troll’s claw sliced through the air, hurtling towards him. The speed was so astonishing that an ordinary person wouldn’t have had time to react. But Demian was no ordinary person.

Swoosh.

He didn’t even take a full step.

Just half a foot.

With a simple maneuver, he evaded the troll’s swing, leaning his body back and ducking his head. It was a narrow escape, leaving a gap barely wider than a piece of paper.

“Groargh?”

The troll’s eyes widened in surprise.

It had anticipated tearing off the fragile human’s head with a single blow, yet it found nothing but empty air. Rage surged within the troll as it realized its failure.

“Groooargh!”

That marked the beginning.

The troll unleashed its merciless onslaught.

“Groaaargh! Groargh!”

Its arms swung wildly, delivering blows, scratches, swipes, uppercuts, waves, smashes, jabs, kicks, stabs—launching one attack after another.

But nothing changed. Demian stood his ground, not taking a single step, not budging an inch.

‘Can a human… do that?’

Raciel couldn’t fathom what he was witnessing.

Once again, he was reminded of why Demian had reigned as the strongest human of his time in the novel.

“From the very beginning… he was different.”

A devilish talent.

No, to call it a talent would be an understatement for such extraordinary combat skills. And the untamed instincts that complemented his talent and prowess.

Comparable to the legendary Grandmaster Javier Asrahan, hailed as the greatest swordsman in history, Demian Cayenne possessed a demonic talent for swordsmanship.

Raciel recollected the details.

Yes, it was mentioned in the novel.

‘Demian stepped into the underground arena for the first time at the age of 17. Within just three months, he defeated all the existing gladiators and became the champion.’

Demian was truly invincible.

A string of astonishingly undefeated victories.

Within a year, numerous challengers lost their lives or were left crippled by his blade. Eventually, the challengers themselves dwindled.

It was inevitable.

‘Anyone who dared to challenge him was fated to fall.’

No one had the audacity to face him. The odds set by the gamblers became meaningless.

Around that time…

‘Demian’s opponents… were no longer human. He faced beasts, hordes of goblins, and even trolls like today. He battled ferocious creatures of all kinds.’

Even the betting on his fights shifted. For example, wagers were placed on ‘how many wounds Demian would sustain while fighting a troll’.

Then,

“Grooargh!”

The troll’s anxious roar snapped Raciel back to reality.

He looked up.

The troll, intent on crushing Demian with its entire body, charged towards him, reaching out with both arms.

Perhaps trying to grab and tear him apart.

But in that moment…

Ssspt.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

A sharp, cold flash of light sliced through the space between Demian and the troll, once and for all.

And that was it.

“…Groargh?”

The troll, attempting to grab hold of Demian, recoiled, emitting a strange sound as its movements froze. Its eyes widened, filled with disbelief and unease. That single moment turned out to be its last.

Thud!

A surge of blood.

The troll’s head cleanly severed, along with both of its arms.

… Groan!

With its neck and arms gone, the troll buckled at the knees. The troll’s renowned physical regeneration? It could only dream of it now, as its heart had been pierced flawlessly.

Thunk…

As the colossal body of the troll crumbled, silence pervaded the stadium. No cheers erupted. No, the spectators were too stunned by the sudden turn of events. Some covered their gaping mouths, while others widened their eyes in disbelief.

The cheers came a beat later.

“…Wow!”

Blood spurted, excitement ignited.

The furnace of fanaticism.

The savage cheers of the crowd filled the stadium. Gamblers experienced mixed fortunes, resulting in a cacophony of laughter and shouts. However, Demian was already making his way out through the iron bars.

The cheers and screams were directed at him.

Words of slander, praise, and curiosity.

Yet, he appeared indifferent to it all.

Was it merely because he was cool?

‘Certainly not.’

Raciel shook his head inwardly.

Others may not understand, but he does.

He knows the struggles Demian faced at this moment, the desperation he felt.

Now was the time to act.

“Gather your thoughts and follow me.”

Raciel nudged Gardin.

“…Huh? Yes? Yes!”

Gardin, previously pale and disoriented, hurriedly followed. Raciel maneuvered through the bustling crowd, the chatter of numerous voices reaching his ears.

“Ha. I thought he would at least sustain some injuries today.”

“Demian, you mean?”

“Of course. He was up against a troll, after all.”

“Well, I actually bet that Demian would have two wounds.”

“Hehe. Both of us lost today.”

“Even though his opponent was a troll, I thought something unexpected might occur, but it turned out just as I predicted.”

The grumbling of the gamblers echoed in his ears.

Listening to their remarks, Raciel inwardly chuckled.

‘These people have no idea that Demian is the protagonist of this world.’

They see him as nothing more than a wretched existence in an underground arena. They are oblivious to the fact that he is the person who will save this world from the clutches of war. They have no inkling that he will rise to become the emperor of a vast empire in the distant future.

In their wildest dreams, they would never imagine it.

‘Demian is far more remarkable than they realize.’

A sense of pride welled up within Raciel as he savored the knowledge that he alone possessed this understanding. It was akin to knowing a hidden gem of a restaurant that remained undiscovered by others or being the ultimate fan of a rookie who would eventually become the biggest star in the world.

However, just as he basked in his solitary pride, an unexpected conversation caught his attention among the gamblers.

“But let me ask you something. Have you heard about the recent rumor, the ‘Crown Prince’s Overpowering Theory’?”

“…Pfft!”

Raciel nearly spat out in surprise.

Maintaining his indifferent facade, he perked up his ears to listen to the gamblers’ discussion. The conversation unfolded before him.

“The Crown Prince’s Overpowering Theory? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Tsk tsk. How can you be so slow in keeping up with the news?”

“Before you blame me, why don’t you enlighten me? I’ll buy the drinks tonight.”

“Fair enough. So, the Crown Prince’s Overpowering Theory is… You must have witnessed the confrontation between the Crown Prince and the Second Prince on Lloy-Javi Bridge a few days ago, right?”

“Yes, I did. It ended in quite an unexpected manner.”

“That’s right, it was quite memorable. Especially the Second Prince’s reaction after his defeat.”

“The Second Prince’s… reaction?”

“He fainted.”

“Yes, he did.”

“And when the Crown Prince… barely touched the unconscious Second Prince’s foot… the Second Prince screamed. You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Ah, yes. I certainly did.”

“Do you recall the Second Prince’s demeanor afterward?”

“…Ah.”

“You do remember. Yes. He suddenly rose to his feet, dropped to one knee before the Crown Prince, and conceded defeat, unprompted.”

“So, could it be…”

“You’re onto something. Exactly. The grip strength of the Crown Prince, who had briefly touched his foot… surpassed all expectations.”

“I see.”

‘…I see? What ‘I see’?’

Raciel yearned to interject and join their conversation immediately. Yet, regardless of his inner turmoil, the gamblers’ discussion flowed uninterrupted.

“With that astonishing grip strength, the Second Prince must have felt as if he were in hell. He likely sensed a genuine threat to his life. Perhaps he thought, if I continue to challenge him, I might truly die. It’s possible that he knelt and admitted defeat due to that sense of crisis.”

“That does make sense. It was more than just a defeat. It was a renouncement of his dream for the position as the Crown Prince, an abandonment of his path to becoming the emperor.”

“Exactly. The Crown Prince possesses a grip strength so terrifying that it compels others to swiftly relinquish their aspirations of becoming emperor.”

“Wow. I had always heard that he was a frail individual plagued by chronic illness. How could he possess such… Does this mean the Crown Prince has been concealing an extraordinary power all along?”

“That’s the crux of the Crown Prince’s Overpowering Theory.”

‘…Tsk. Let’s just leave.’

He was too occupied to entertain such nonsense.

There was no time to waste on idle chatter.

Raciel swiftly maneuvered through the bustling crowd, navigating towards a corridor tucked away in one corner of the arena. It led to the gladiators’ waiting room.

Naturally, there were guards stationed to regulate access to the area. However, this posed no obstacle for Raciel. Silently, he handed each guard a generous sum of gold.

The guards regarded him with stern eyes, seemingly questioning his attempt at bribery.

…But the value of the gold was far too significant to harbor suspicions.

Thus, he acquired a seamless passage into the hallway.

‘The innermost section of the corridor.’

The rarely ventured waiting room located at the far end. That was where Demian resided. Recalling the novel’s contents, Raciel took a deep breath.

‘Now, this is crucial.’

He was about to meet the novel’s protagonist. With his heart inexplicably pounding, Raciel organized his plan, meticulously reviewing the details he retained from the story.

What Demian required most at this moment. What held the utmost urgency for him? Raciel needed to showcase his ability to fulfill those needs. To accomplish that with a 100% success rate…

“Excuse me.”

Creeeak.

Boldly, he swung open the door to the waiting room.

Inside stood Demian Cayenne.

Perhaps he was in the midst of wiping away the troll’s splattered blood from his face. He cast a casual glance through the towel covering his features, his expression questioning:

Who are you?

What do you want?

Yet, Raciel did not respond to that gaze.

Instead, he strode forward with determination.

He suppressed his racing heart.

Reaching out, he picked up a bottle of medicine from the nearby table. Turning towards Demian, he offered a knowing smirk. Accompanying it was a punchline he had carefully crafted.

“Tsk tsk. It’s a shame. Why are you resorting to such cheap painkillers? Can you even get a good night’s sleep with those?”

“…What?”

Demian’s eyebrows twitched. A flicker of irritation emerged in his cool gaze.

Raciel concealed his satisfaction.

That’s it.

A fresh beginning for their first encounter.