Dukedom’s Legendary Prodigy - Chapter 8
----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Vine Chapter: 8 Chapter Title: The Shadow Cloak -----------------------------------------------------------------
At the crack of dawn, a wooden sword sliced through the chilly air.
The training grounds of the vassal knights in Castle Sachsen.
Dale parried the blade of the squire swinging at him. The instant their swords met, he deflected the blade outward, then closed in and drove a body blow toward his opponent’s hilt.
Thwack!
With the impact, the blade of the wooden sword in Dale's hand was suddenly at the squire's neck.
The match was decided in a matter of mere exchanges.
‘Hah!’
Watching the scene unfold, Lord Helmut gasped in astonishment. The duke's knights watching the duel were no exception.
Although Dale's opponent was a squire who had not yet been formally knighted, the value of Dale's victory could not be diminished in the slightest.
His nineteen-year-old opponent hailed from a knightly family and had walked the path of the sword his entire life. He was a young knight on the verge of being formally knighted in the name of Duke Sachsen. And he had just been defeated by a nine-year-old boy.
Worse yet, by a mage who had no intention of walking the path of the sword!
“Good work, Myle.”
However, no one, including Helmut, reprimanded the squire for his loss.
“This was not due to your immaturity. Do not blame yourself.”
“...I understand.”
The defeated squire swallowed the bitter taste in his heart and accepted the undeniable reality.
What good would it do to feel wronged?
The world was not a fair place. Dale of Sachsen, the prodigy of the ducal house, was living proof of that ‘unfairness.’
Dale, who had shown an extraordinary talent for the sword since he was around eight, had grown at a truly astonishing rate. By the time he turned nine, he was even capable of employing his own sword forms.
Swift swordplay, perfectly suited to his small frame.
His swordsmanship demonstrated a surprisingly cold and clear understanding of his own circumstances, as if a master swordsman of the highest caliber resided within the body of a child.
“Uncle Helmut, who’s my next opponent?”
Dale asked, readjusting his grip on the wooden sword. At his audacity, Helmut let out a hearty laugh.
“How about taking on one of the Seven Swords of the Continent next!”
“Sounds great!”
Just as Lord Helmut said this and began to rise to his feet, a voice called out.
“Dale.”
It came from beyond the white marble colonnade.
“We greet His Grace, the Duke!”
At the sound of the voice, the surrounding knights all dropped to one knee in a show of respect. Dale turned his head. There stood his father, Duke Sachsen.
“Father?”
“Were you practicing your swordsmanship here?”
the Black Prince asked as he walked between the colonnade’s pillars.
“Yes.”
It was a well-known fact that Dale did not neglect his sword training, despite walking the path of magic.
“It is a fine sight to see you so dedicated to your training.”
Watching him, the Black Prince did not hide his fatherly pride.
“But let that be enough sword training for today.”
His expression then turned quite serious as he continued.
“There is something I wish to show you.”
“I understand, Father.”
Dale nodded silently.
“It seems our match will have to wait, Uncle Helmut.”
“Haha, I shall look forward to it!”
Dale regretfully set down the wooden sword in his hand. Helmut laughed as heartily as ever, then quietly bowed to the departing father and son.
There is something I wish to show you. After saying this, Dale’s father led him to the magic workshop in the castle’s basement.
And there, an unexpected face was waiting.
“You’ve come, Dale.”
“Mistress Sephia?”
It was Sephia, his tutor—a 6th-circle elven mage and an elder of the Blue Magic Tower.
“Follow me.”
Watching his two teachers cross the workshop, Dale sensed the unusual atmosphere and held his tongue.
‘What’s this all of a sudden?’
The Black Prince headed for the far end of the workshop, toward a passage that led from the depths of the basement to an even deeper, darker level below.
Dale followed silently behind him.
The moment he stepped through the passage, an ominous chill washed over him. It was a secret chamber, protected by layers of powerful wards that an ordinary mage could not even dream of breaching.
Lining the walls on all sides were pieces of equipment, overflowing like in an armory.
The moment he saw them, Dale knew instinctively that these were no ordinary items.
Each piece pulsed with powerful magic—magic of a very dark and sinister nature.
‘Artifacts from the Demon Lord’s territory...!’
Just as Dale, unable to hide his interest, was about to step forward, a sharp voice stopped him.
“Do not touch them carelessly.”
The Black Prince continued speaking as he crossed the room.
“These are pieces of equipment imbued with a powerful dark force.”
The forbidden power that people both feared and revered.
“Our House of Sachsen has, for generations, wielded and controlled this cursed power.”
“To protect our lands and our people from our enemies.”
Even necromancy and black magic were no exception.
“Therefore, as the eldest son of this ducal house, this is a power you must also bear.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Soon, we will be mustering our forces to subjugate a horde of orcs rampaging from the Demon Lord’s territory.”
The Black Prince continued.
“And you will join me in this battle.”
“...!”
Only then did Dale understand the situation.
“I’m to join you in battle, Father...!”
Duke Sachsen gave a slow nod.
“That is why, before we march, you will first learn to control the dark power that resides here.”
In other words, the items here were armaments prepared for Dale.
“Accepting and adapting to the power of an artifact is not something that can be done overnight.”
“There is no need to worry too much, Dale.”
At that, Sephia, who had been silent until now, spoke up.
“I, too, will do everything in my power to help you.”
Her voice was exceptionally gentle.
“...”
Dale’s gaze shifted to the display of artifacts. A sword, a suspicious-looking book, a helmet and armor, and all manner of equipment were lined up in a row.
‘This is...!’
Suddenly, something fiercely captured Dale's attention. At a glance, it was an unremarkable black cloak. But how could he ever forget it?
The shadows that should have been cast beneath the cloak were writhing as if they were living creatures.
‘The Shadow Cloak.’
It was the equipment of a high-ranking demon Dale had faced in his past life as the Hero from Another World.
Verka, the Duke of Illusions and a Demon General of the Demon Lord’s territory. It was his favored artifact, a top-tier item that granted substance to shadows, allowing for a seamless blend of offense and defense.
For Dale, who wielded both sword and magic, it was the perfect piece of equipment.
‘I’ve hooked an unexpectedly big fish.’
And so, Dale did not hesitate. Ignoring his father’s warning, he reached out and snatched the Shadow Cloak.
He was driven by a pure, unadulterated craving for power, like a reckless child, thinking of nothing but the prize before him.
“Dale!”
The moment he grabbed it, the Black Prince cried out in shock.
Artifacts possess great power on their own, but they also place an immense burden on the user. Those that run on dark power are especially dangerous, capable of causing death with a mere touch.
Even a man like Duke Sachsen would not demand such a harsh trial from a nine-year-old boy.
The Black Prince had likely intended to give Dale something befitting a ‘nine-year-old’s level,’ even considering his genius—something that could, at most, summon a lesser shadow spirit to protect him in a pinch.
But what Dale had chosen was a high-tier artifact, incomparable to a mere ‘lesser shadow spirit.’ Without hesitation, he snatched the Shadow Cloak and wrapped it around himself.
Darkness enveloped him.
The instant it did, the shadows beneath the cloak began to writhe like living creatures once more, like a school of piranhas drawn to the scent of blood.
These were by no means ‘ordinary shadows.’
「Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!」
They were living shadows, filled with malice. A fate of being devoured by these starved shadows, leaving not even bone behind.
For a moment, that was the horrific future that flashed through the minds of the Black Prince and Sephia.
Just as the two were about to hastily cast their magic to protect Dale, he calmly raised a hand to stop them, the phantom whispers of the shadows echoing endlessly in his ears.
“There’s no need to worry.”
Dale said, his voice betraying not a hint of hesitation or unease, as he commanded the shadows that had been rampaging wildly at his feet just a moment before to obey.
That’s right. The shadows, which had been thrashing about madly, were now perfectly still, as if bowing before a presence they dared not defy.
“I’m fine.”
At Dale’s words, the two of them froze.
“How in the world—”
It was an unbelievable sight. The Black Prince watched, gasping in shock, his face a mask of astonishment unlike any Dale had seen before.
“Is-is it not painful?”
Dale offered a wry smile at Sephia’s cautious, worried question.
“Just a little.”
An intense malice had assaulted him the moment he donned the cloak.
So this was the dark power the House of Sachsen was destined to bear. And it was their fate to endure this malice, to properly control and guide its power.
An ordinary mind would not even be able to withstand it. The moment a user succumbed to this malice, they would become prey for these shadows.
Artifacts were like greedy creatures that never gave power without a price. Those that ran on dark power were particularly vicious. But in the end, that was all it was.
“It stings a little, yes.”
And yet, the shadows shimmering at his feet were exulting in mad joy, as if greeting a new master.
“But I’m fine.”
Dale replied, his voice as steady as ever.
This was nothing.
He had spent a lifetime fighting monsters on battlefields engulfed in the flames of war for the sake of humanity. After that, he was raised as the empire’s hound, slaughtering countless aberrant beings and ‘enemies of the empire.’
Compared to the malice that had defined Dale's entire existence, the evil from these shadows was less than a pinprick.
“Can I try on the other things here, too?”
Dale asked, his eyes shining with childlike innocence. After all, there was no end to the equipment left to try on.