As soon as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the horizon, Mikael silently entered the Medium.
He had watched his partner weep by his side, but he offered no consolation. He judged that Deon's pride would shatter if he became aware that Mikael saw him—a prince—cry like a lass.
'This experience must have been a wake-up call for him' he thought when saw Deon's expression morph from resignation into fiery determination.
Come morning, the paralyzing dust's effect had worn off and Deon was able to move his body normally—albeit sore from all the bruises that he got as he tumbled seventy meters above the ground.
Gurgg…
Deon's stomach grumbled. As he had not eaten dinner, Deon was now famished.
He took out his space ring and placed a mana crystal inside the small compartment hidden beneath a complex mana circle. The crystal evaporated as it injected mana into the silver ring. The circle subtly glowed before releasing an iridescent smoke that swirled to form a small space warp.
Deon put his arm into the space warp and rummaged its contents. His hand fumbled inside the space until he felt the soft, warm bread that Butler Sebastian gave as provision.
This was the beauty of space-related artifacts. All you needed was a piece of low-grade mana crystal and you could store any item while preserving their quality— that means food never spoiled, and weapons never corroded inside the space.
However, space artifacts are extremely expensive due to their rarity.
Very few Artisan Almagi have managed to make a functional space artifact due to the complexity of its production method.
Even then, the best that they could do was an artifact with an item limit of ten. Considering this, Deon's space ring that can store up to fifty items was on a national treasure level.
Sshshhk…
The sound of dry leaves crunching underfoot disturbed the stillness of the mountain.
Deon looked over his shoulder while munching on his breakfast.
"AHA! There ye are! We've been searchin' all over for ye, Sir Knight!"
Three burly men approached Deon. They were the mercenary group that surrounded him in the march.
'They were looking for me? What for?' Clueless Deon tilted his head in confusion.
A curious expression passed over the three's countenance when Deon stayed silent.
When the man on the right, a middle-aged guy with long matted hair tied back in a ponytail, whispered to his comrades and exchanged meaningful looks, their menacing auras subsided.
The man on the center, obviously their leader, clasped his hands together and flashed Deon a painful smile, "Sir Knight, can ye help us?"
Deon's ears perked at the word 'Help'. Even though he was a prince, he never had anyone ask him for help since he was well-known as the useless and cowardly third prince.
As such, he eagerly asked the three men. "How can I help you, sirs?"
The mercenaries smiled, pleased that they stumbled across an easy prey, "Actually, Good Sir, we were forced to participate in this competition…"
"Forced? But the joining it is not mandatory." Deon asked.
"We-We were forced by the circumstances, Good sir." The leader reasoned, "Ye see, my lovely wife is severely ill. The physician says she can only live for a month if we can't give her medication." He animatedly dabs his eye with the grimy handkerchief handed to him by his comrade.
"I, as well, good sir, have an unfortunate situation… my child… she… she wished for a toy from Countess Blair's shop as a birthday present. It was her only wish before her illness claims her life."
"What the-? Is there an epidemic going on? What's with these poor excuses. They must lack imagination… these muscle-heads" Mikael scoffed from inside the Medium.
"Would please keep quiet, Sir Mikael? how could you say such cruel things about them?" Deon snapped back in irritation before addressing the men, "Then, what do you need from me?"
The Mercenaries pursed their lips to keep themselves from smiling
"If ye could just give us—" the leader briefly turned to his friend who held up 5 fingers in response, "Five hundred gold."
"EACH!" chimed the man with an 'ill' daughter.
"Yes, if ye could just give us 500 gold each, we would be so grateful, Good sir." The leader put on a pitiful expression.
"Hah! What a scum! They must think you're a pushover, Deon." Mikael said, thinking that by now, his partner would have noticed their scheme.
However, he was greatly disappointed by Deon's response.
"It's just 1,500 gold… surely, I can give them that much." Deon weakly replied through direct messaging.
"WHAT?! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?!" Mikael exclaimed.
This was the problem with the over-privileged. They think it's okay to give to the less fortunate to feed their egos, unaware that they were being exploited.
Mikael was mortified but he chose to reason with his partner, "In the first place, do you even have that much with you?"
"Ah! Yeah… I don't" Deon sighed.
When Deon looked forward, he was met with the pressuring stares of the three mercenaries. Deon gulped, forcing the words out, "Uhmm… I apologize but I don't have that much money right now—"
But before he could finish, their expressions became cold and stoic.
"Ahhh… told ye this was a bad idea." The leader put his pinky finger inside his ears and picked at it, "There's no way this loser's gonna fall for that. Ahh… we just wasted our time."
"Hehe. I thought we could resolve this without breaking a sweat." The man with long hair scratched the back of his head.
"He may be a pushover, but he wasn't born yesterday." The one on the left commented as he took out his dagger and admired its mirror-like shine, "Hey loser if you don't have money on you, how about giving us that space ring?"
The three men threateningly stalked Deon who clenched his fist tightly around the space ring.
"Sh*t! I knew this would happen!" Mikael cursed from the Medium.
"Wh-what do we do now, Sir Mikael?" Deon took a step back.
"Give me your body. I'll figure something out." Mikael commanded.
"Okay." Deon readily consented.
Within a split second, their souls switched.
The Mercenaries grew confused when their prey stopped retreating and stood straighter, displaying confidence that wasn't there just a moment ago.
Mikael stretched his hand toward Deon's spear that lay 2 meters from him.
The mercenaries' eyes almost popped out of their sockets in surprise as the spear flew toward Mikael's hand.
However, Mikael did not hold the spear.
He raised his arm above his head, the spear following his command like a conductor's baton.
"Uhh? Uhh?! Wh- what's happening?!" the leader stared at Mikael like he was a monster.
Mikael smirked beneath his iron mask. He brought down his arm in one swift motion and sent the spear toward the leader's head.
Fwooosh!
"!!!" Surprise and horror appeared on the leader's face.
"NOOO! DON'T KILL THEM!" Deon shouted inside Mikael's head.
The spear that should have pierced the man's head abruptly stopped. Its tip grazed the man between his eyebrows before it fell motionless on the ground.
A thick line of blood trickled down the man's nose.
The leader's fear turned into rage, "YOU FUCKEEER!!!"
--Chapter end--