MDL | Chapter 1.5

The prince stared intently at the wizard without continuing his words. The wizard felt a chill under the prince’s emotionless, wax-doll-like gaze. Without realizing it, the wizard’s lips trembled as he asked:

“S-so what?”

“So…?”

The prince’s face twisted strangely. He repeatedly scrunched and relaxed his facial muscles in odd ways, as if searching for the right expression to wear in this moment.

Finally, the prince’s facial muscles settled into an expression.

A smile.

A smile that revealed his white, neat teeth. But it was strange. There was no emotion in it. It felt like he was merely mimicking an expression he’d seen somewhere or remembered, like a doll imitating a human’s face.

A shiver ran down the wizard’s spine, and he instinctively took a step back.

“I decided to experiment. To reject and rebel against the absurd life I’ve been given. If breaking free from my fate means breaking the framework of this world, then whoever imposed this absurdity on us humans will surely appear. A god or a devil. Isn’t that right? So, wizard. Are you a god? Or a devil?”

A god?

Or a devil?

Hmm, what do you think, everyone? Is the wizard a god or a devil, as the prince says? Or perhaps an agent of a god or devil? But look at that wizard! He’s the kind of guy who trips over rocks. If someone like that is a god or a devil, how haphazardly must the prince’s world have been made?

The prince is truly… free of prejudice.

“A god? A devil?”

The wizard knew his place. With a baffled expression, he repeated the prince’s words and pointed at himself.

“Me? Hah! Your Highness, really! To think you’d compare me to…!”

The prince’s sword, forged from dawn frost, gleamed ominously. The prince swung his arm wide. A flash of silver light sparkled in the air, and in an instant, it drew a beautiful arc…

An arc…?

Huh?

……

…

Ah, ah. Hmm, ahem. Haha, this is strange. Why can’t I speak all of a sudden? Damn it, is this broken?

A-E-I-O-U, Ga-Na-Da-Ra-Ma-Ba-Sa¹… Huh? Me? Hah! Your Highness, really! To think you’d compare me to…!

To! Think! You’d! Compare! Me! To!

…Huh?

…

…Hmm, well… Haha, everyone! What’s going on here? The wizard… didn’t get to finish his sentence!

Because…

…

…

Thud.

With a sound, something round, covered in golden thread…

Huh? What’s that? A head, you say? Everyone, you’re so sharp! Yes… With a thud, the wizard’s head rolled like a ball across the thick layer of fallen leaves. As if unaware of what had happened, the wizard’s eyelids slowly blinked twice. But that was the end. Instead of a voice, a faint, flute-like breath escaped his parted lips, and the spark of life completely faded. The body, which had remained stiff for a moment after the head was severed, twisted like a wooden puppet before finally collapsing.

Yes, everyone.

The wizard is dead.

And wow, the prince… Oh, come on, this is ridiculous… Really… The prince, cold-blooded and unfeeling, calmly shook off his sword. The cursed blade, which had cleanly severed the head from the body without a sound, was not stained with a single drop of blood. Our prince! And his cursed sword! Really, really, really! Amazing, aren’t they? Amazingly brutal!

No, our prince… He’s supposed to be the Sleeping Prince of the Thorn Castle, but how did he end up… Damn it! If he’s going to chop off heads like that, how is he supposed to be the romantic hero of a fairy tale? He’s supposed to kiss the princess and get married! Disqualified, disqualified!

 Huff, just a moment, huff…

I’m sorry, everyone. I got a little too excited.

…

Let’s get back to the story.

The prince stared at the bloodless blade with a puzzled expression. He absentmindedly brought his finger close to the sharp edge but hesitated and pulled back, remembering the ominous curse. After all, there’s no difference between a needle and a sword when it comes to sharp, pointed objects.

When the prince sheathed the sword back into its old scabbard, the silvery glow that had faintly illuminated the forest disappeared.

The prince carefully surveyed the area around the mirror-like pond. Then he bent down and picked up the wizard’s severed head. He poked at the wizard’s shiny golden hair and long golden eyelashes with his fingers. He even pressed into the wizard’s cheek, which had an unfamiliar, wax-like texture.

The prince tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled.

“A doll?”

He muttered softly.

The wizard’s severed head and body were indeed strange enough to make the prince question their humanity. There was no blood. The sword not being stained with blood could be attributed to the prince’s exceptional swordsmanship and the sharpness of his blade. But the fact that no blood flowed from the severed parts of the body was bizarre. Aren’t human bodies made of bones, muscles, and blood vessels?

The prince, with a suspicious expression, flipped the wizard’s head upside down to examine the severed neck. The white vertebrae, red muscles, and tough tendons were clearly visible. Though life had long left the body, the muscles and tendons still had a faint tremor. But there was no blood. Was that why it felt like… a doll, meticulously crafted to replicate the shell and insides of a human?

Just as the prince leaned closer to examine the severed flesh, something unexpected happened!

Black blood began to pour out of the wizard’s severed head. Black blood! Not red, but pitch-black blood! The prince’s hands, holding the head, were also stained with the dark liquid. Startled, the prince looked over at where the wizard’s body had fallen. Black blood was flowing from there as well.

The blood gave off a strange smell.

When you think of the smell of blood, you might imagine the metallic tang of iron being forged or the sharp, cold scent of a riverbank after rain. But the wizard’s blood… had a unique fragrance.

Like the smell of old bookshelves. Or the scent of oxidized ink on parchment from a million years ago.

Yes…

“…Ink?”

The prince muttered.

Yes, that’s right. It smelled like ink. But that was only for a moment. Something even stranger happened. The black blood staining the prince’s white hands began to emit white steam, psssh, psssh, evaporating into the air! The wizard’s severed neck and the body lying on the leaves also turned into white vapor, psssh, psssh, and disappeared in an instant.

The prince looked down at his now-empty hands. At that moment, the prince’s white horse, which had been peacefully grazing, suddenly reared up and let out a panicked whinny, as if it had encountered a ghost. The prince reflexively grabbed the hilt of his sword and turned to look. There stood…

“I’m hurt.”

The wizard.

“Wasn’t that a bit too much, Your Highness? No matter how much you dislike me, how could you cut off someone’s head while they’re talking?”

Judging by his rambling nonsense, it was indeed the wizard.

The wizard, with his head and body intact, smiling brightly… The prince drew his sword again from its scabbard. The wizard pouted. The sensation of having his head cut off wasn’t exactly pleasant, you know. Isn’t that obvious?

“So you’re not human after all.”

“Who knows? I’m not well-versed in such difficult concepts as gods or humans. All I know for sure is that I’m a wizard.”

The wizard pulled out his magical feather pen from his sleeve.

The prince let out a short, sharp cry and stomped the ground with both feet. Launching himself toward the wizard, he gripped the sword hilt with both hands, putting his full weight into a strike that seemed ready to split the wizard in half.

“Ah!”

The wizard screamed and dodged.

Though it was an awkward tumble… he dodged! A bit different from tripping over rocks earlier.

Yes, little by little… he seems to be getting used to his body. If the wizard seemed clumsy earlier, it was because he was still adjusting to his new form…

“Ahhh! My leg! My leg! You cut off my leg!”

…Of course, no matter where he goes or what body he inhabits, the wizard is still the wizard. He’s not a knight. Wizards aren’t exactly known for their physical prowess. If he were good at sports, would he be a wizard?

He thought he was nimbly dodging the prince’s sword, but unfortunately, instead of losing his head, he lost his right shin. The severed lower part of his shin twitched on its own like a severed centipede… Should I stop here? Yes…

But thankfully, it wasn’t life-threatening. If he had lost his life, it would have taken a lot of effort to restore his body, but losing a leg is no big deal.

Black blood flowed from the wizard’s severed shin, stretching out toward his original body. It coated the severed surface like glue, and with a splat!

It reattached.

The prince let out a disbelieving laugh.

The prince swung his sword again.

The wizard screamed. One of his shoulders fell off.

Black blood flowed. Splat! The shoulder reattached.

The prince swung his sword again.

The wizard screamed. Three fingers fell off.

Black blood flowed. Splat! The fingers reattached.

The prince swung his sword again.

The wizard screamed. A chunk of his face and one ear fell off.

Black blood flowed. Splat! The chunk of face and ear reattached.

“Isn’t this a bit too much?”

The wizard protested in a voice full of resentment.

“Do you really have to butcher me like this? I’m really hurt!”

“You’re a monster who can’t even die.”

The prince retorted.

“Even monsters can get their feelings hurt, you know?”

The wizard shouted, tears welling up in his eyes.

Meanwhile, the prince and the wizard continued their cycle of slashing and regenerating… passing the time.

Is this what the battle between an unstoppable spear and an immovable shield is like? Or perhaps it’s like trying to cut water with a sword. Of course, the prince and the wizard aren’t a married couple. In any case, the battle between the world’s strongest spear and its toughest shield must have been incredibly tedious. What could be more tensionless and boring than an endless, eternal fight? Spectators are drawn to battles where there’s a clear winner and loser, aren’t they?

So I won’t bore you with any more lengthy, repetitive descriptions.

Let’s just say that a considerable amount of time passed as the prince slashed at the wizard and the wizard regenerated…

Enough time for the brilliant golden sun sliding across the smooth surface of the mirror pond to be replaced by the cold, stern silver moon.

Both the prince and the wizard were exhausted. The wizard no longer held the sharp needle or the magical feather pen. He must have dropped them somewhere during the battle. How careless! But the prince wasn’t much better off. His greatsword was discarded near the thick oak tree, and his old scabbard lay haphazardly in the grass.

At some point, both of them had lost their weapons and were completely unarmed. It seemed they had even forgotten why they were fighting in the first place. They glared at each other with hatred, throwing wild punches and kicks… and began a savage brawl.

Of course, the wizard, with his pitiful physical abilities, was at a disadvantage. But the wizard wasn’t entirely helpless either. After having his limbs severed repeatedly and being beaten so much, he seemed to have developed a kind of venomous determination. The composure he had when he first appeared was completely gone. Now, his golden curls were streaked with dirt and leaves, and his face was flushed with anger.

“Damn it! Your Highness! Why are you doing this to me?!”

That was what the prince wanted to ask.

The wizard, like an angry bull, stomped the ground, kicking up dust in frustration. Then he rummaged through the sleeve of his robe and pulled out another feather pen. With his quick movements, he drew needles in the air. One, two, three, four, five… no, dozens, hundreds of needles. Hundreds of needles filled the air. The silvery moonlight gathered at the sharp tips, making them look like hundreds of tiny insects with glowing eyes.

The wizard swung his arms wide. The hundreds of needles surged toward the prince. Swish, swish—the sharp sound of air being sliced was almost like the flicking tongue of a giant reptile, sending shivers down the spine.

When the first needle grazed his hair, the prince dropped low to the ground, almost lying flat. He slid toward the oak tree and grabbed his sword. The sword hummed lowly, as if responding to the prince. Using the broad side of the sword as a shield, the prince deflected the hundreds of needles flying at him from all directions. And then he charged straight at the wizard.

Grind—a sound of teeth grinding.

It came from the wizard’s clenched jaw. Not a single one of the hundreds of needles had pierced the prince’s skin. At most, they had torn holes in his cloak, ripped the hem of his tunic, and cut a few strands of his hair.

“Tch!”

The wizard let out a sharp cry and gripped the feather pen like a dagger, intending to stab the prince with its sharp tip. Black ink gushed into the air, like streaks of dark tears.

Ah!

Finally, finally!

The story!

The tip of the wizard’s pen…

The tip grazed the prince’s cheek…

Leaving a thin, long streak of ink on the prince’s cheek…