The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin
Chapter 43

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Gun]

Chapter 43: Purification (1)

The Royal Academy began its first classes of the new term.

The first-year courses focus heavily on theory, as they lay the groundwork for the subsequent six years of education.

Topics include Mana Utilization Basics, Beginner’s Magic Principles, and Swordsmanship Primer Volume 1. Additionally, there are classes on the history of the continent, mathematics, geography, literature, and other subjects that some might find dull.

Honestly, there’s nothing as important as theory when starting something new.

But do I really know all those basic theories? Can anyone claim they do?

It’s been over 30 years since I delved into theory.

If I remembered every minute detail, would I be a scholar or an assassin?

Theory is important, but ultimately, what matters more is how we apply what we’ve learned.

For me, who has mastered all those applications, learning theory again seems rather meaningless.

What’s important now is not some tiny script theory book, but this single sheet of paper filled with densely packed red letters.

It’s a directive – a missive from Silica, the leader, to the other members of the organization.

By issuing this directive, it means the next purification target has been identified.

Usually, purification tasks are assigned based on rank, gradually selecting members who can be deployed.

But it seems they’ve put me directly into a high-ranking operation from the start.

I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

The target is ‘Zikermann Albas,’ one of the Empire’s figures and one of the three great symbols of the continent.

He currently controls all the businesses within the Ushif Empire and holds the title of Viscount.

Originally known for not caring much about his title and for returning most of his earnings from business to the poor, it turns out he’s quite the opposite.

The directive lists the numerous atrocities Zikermann Albas has committed, with the most notable being the operation of a slave market.

In an empire where human trafficking is legally forbidden according to the teachings of the Light God Lumendel, his actions stand out as egregious.

He’s no ordinary figure.

It’s hard to believe other figures within the Empire didn’t know about this, but it seems there are factions willing to turn a blind eye.

As I was examining the directive, I heard heavy footsteps coming from the stairs.

It’s obvious that I’m not in a classroom.

In some worlds, the rooftop of a building is considered the best place to skip classes, but unfortunately, the academy rooftop hosts a magical arena, making it impossible to skip class there.

So, where am I?

Right now, I’m on the rooftop terrace at the top of the Royal Palace. It’s a neatly arranged garden, with the wind blowing gently, making it a perfect place to spend time alone.

Thud! Thud!

Initially, the footsteps were steady, but at some point, they turned into heavy thuds. Even armored knights wouldn’t make such noise.

Is this some kind of troll or a creature making such unusual sounds?

For now, I decided to hide the directive and quietly observe who’s coming up the stairs.

Bang!

With a loud crash, the terrace door swung open.

Without realizing it, I flinched.

“….”

The person standing there seemed surprised to see someone and was staring straight at me.

“Who are you?”

A tall man strides toward me.

With rugged skin and well-defined shoulders and muscles, no one would mistake him for a student.

I naturally assumed he was a guardian knight.

“Cyan Vert?”

But he called my name? Lately, it feels like more and more people know my name.

Unless they want to die, guardian knights wouldn’t casually call out a noble’s name.

So, he must be an academy instructor or another student like me, right? No?

If someone of that size were a student, that would be a huge problem.

“…..!”

In an instant, the emblem on his chest caught my eye.

It was a golden emblem reminiscent of the blazing sun.

I knew that emblem.

“The Spanian Royal…?”

Beneath the scorching sun of the eastern continent, in the endless expanse of the desert, lay the oasis kingdom.

Blessed by the Sand God “Sabulom,” the Shaharkan tribe, the only possessors of the magical attribute “Sand” on the continent, ruled the country.

In this Royal Academy, there was only one person who would have that emblem: Prince Set Shaharkan, the Prince of Sand.

He was the first prince of the Spanian Kingdom and the prominent heir to the throne.

Even in my past life, I don’t recall attending classes with him.

Could it be that he was playing hooky here too?

“…”

Judging from his steady gaze, he didn’t seem like he would just leave without saying anything.

The atmosphere suggested he wanted to have a conversation, but…

“Do you know who I am?”

He opened his mouth as if he had been waiting to do so.

“Yes, I do. Cyan Vert, the youngest son of the Vert family, guardians of the continent. Your exploits are well known even outside. They say you’ve been slaying monsters on the front lines?”

Huh? Who? Me?

Well, it’s true, but… Apart from my father’s trial, I haven’t officially slain any monsters.

Looks like the rumors have been quite distorted.

I shook my head and said, “I’ve only observed the knights’ battles from afar. I’ve never personally slain a monster.”

As I denied the truth, he gave me a skeptical look.

Gee, it’s quite burdensome…

“So, why are you here?”

“Well, probably for the same reason as you?”

At the mention of the same reason, Set showed an interesting smile.

“For the same reason… I see. Were you also inclined like me?”

He raised his arms abruptly and began to stretch.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Gun]

“To be honest, I was surprised. I thought there would be no one here who could surpass my sturdy physique, let alone the magic at this Royal Academy…”

Not that I thought there would be none, but it’s more like there shouldn’t be any, right?

Now that I’m seeing him up close, he’s much larger than I had imagined.

With a body like his, he could probably apply to the Knights of Light right now and get accepted.

“Physical Grade S… They say you received the highest grade that even I couldn’t get?”

Uh… Well, I did eat quite a bit during the year, so I did get a good grade.

Usually, the focus is on the student’s magic and attribute values, but this guy strangely emphasized my physical grade.

He seemed to take great pride in his physique.

“In this Royal Academy, they usually only care about a student’s magical and attribute values. It’s truly foolish. The true strength of a human comes from the robustness derived from physical training.”

He suddenly dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.

In less than ten seconds, he did over thirty.

The more I look at him, the less he seems like an ordinary person.

“You probably had the same thought, right? Instead of wasting time listening to boring theories and magic, you’d rather invest that time in training your body a little more! Despite what I expected, you’re quite manly, Cyan Vert!”

Well, yeah, it’s true that I’m here because I don’t want to listen to classes, but I’m just skipping, right?

I didn’t come here to do stormy exercises like you.

Physical training? Of course, it’s important.

But if you were to hear how you died in your past life, you’d probably want to hide out of embarrassment, wouldn’t you?

If the Garam Kingdom had the Sword of the Continent, the Spanian Kingdom had the Prince of Sand.

With the power of the Sand attribute said to be bestowed by the god himself, the Shaharkan tribe, who can use the desert’s nature as they wish, ruled the country.

Set Shaharkan was a man who perfectly inherited the power of such a tribe.

Some even said he directly inherited the power of the Sand God Sabulom.

Especially in Spania, which had a climate and terrain unfamiliar to the Empire: a desert country.

With such a formidable figure as the Prince of Sand in a country already bound by strong bonds, the Empire faced considerable difficulties in conquering the kingdom. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ NøvᴇlFirᴇ(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

But there’s also a saying, isn’t there?

“Genius Short-Lived.”

The Prince of Sand, who didn’t seem to fear the gods, met his end in a truly absurd manner.

He died from a cold.

[PR/N: OH NAH. Skill Issueeee. ]

His emphasis on physical training was so strong that he overlooked the most crucial aspect.

His trivial death, once the kingdom’s pillar, shook the people to their core, making them feel abandoned by the gods.

In an instant, the kingdom’s solidarity crumbled, and it soon fell to the Empire.

It’s honestly a bit absurd to die from a cold, not some contagious disease.

However, the Prince of Sand, unaware of this fact, shouted at me enthusiastically, his face filled with zeal.

“Alright! I’m Set Shaharkan! In the name of the Almighty Spanian First Prince, I challenge you, Cyan Vert, to a formal duel!”

– Whoosh!

As if it were some great challenge, a strong wind blew around us.

I replied nonchalantly with a composed face, “When?”

“Right now!”

“Then, it’s not possible.”

“Why not?!”

He shouted in disbelief.

“Unsanctioned duels are prohibited at the Academy. If you want to duel me, you have to go to the main administrative office and apply officially.”

His dumbfounded face revealed that he had no idea about such regulations.

“S-So, if I apply, then we can duel?”

“That’s right.”

If the Academy approves it, that is.

“Alright! Where do I go to apply?”

“I told you. You have to go to the administrative office. It’s on the third floor of the main building.”

“Got it!”

He dashed off to the administrative office like a bear finding its prey.

With each step he took, I couldn’t help but worry about whether the rooftop construction was stable.

A duel with the Prince of Sand… Seems like I’ve gotten myself into another troublesome situation.

* * *

In the southern city of Brenu in the Ushif Empire…

A peculiar space with dirty iron bars woven into large tents.

After completing the sorting tasks, a man hurriedly headed towards the water supply room.

“Mr. Zikermann! All preparations for the merchandise are complete!”

“…”

Despite the report, Zikermann didn’t even glance in his direction.

Something wrapped in multicolored cloth inside a golden chest.

As if it held a one-of-a-kind jewel, he caressed it endlessly.

“Make sure the timing and location are set, inform the customers. Pay special attention to security this time! And don’t let the big shots of the Empire know!”

“Yes! Understood!”

After the report, the man quickly left the room.

Left alone in the room, Zikermann carefully took out the item from the chest.

“It’s the best item in my 40 years of business! You deserve just as much treatment.”

There was no response from the silent object.

Seemingly indifferent, Zikermann chuckled as he held the item.

“For the best show, you need to be fully prepared. So, you can sleep comfortably in here for now.”

He carefully placed the item back in the chest, sealing it tightly to prevent any harm.

– Tremble

Suddenly, there was movement inside the chest.

After the initial tremor, there were two or three additional movements, but Zikermann, still smiling, remained oblivious.

– Whisper

An invisible, colorless energy began to rise from within the chest like smoke.

[Translator – Clara]

[Proofreader – Gun]

Sᴇarch the ɴøᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.