The Sweet Alpha Crown Prince Loves Me So Much Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Mugicha’s bathwater was stained crimson.

He hummed cheerfully, toweling himself dry, alone in his chambers.

He swayed his shoulders, his feet tapping out a waltz, like a man preparing for a party.

The rhythmic thud of explosions, now deafeningly close, served as background music as he casually kicked the scattered corpses towards the tunnel entrance.

“Master… the Imperial army… has reached… the final wall…”

“And Carl Lindbergh?”

“He’s close… inside the thirteenth wall…”

A faint flush, a rare sight, colored Mugicha’s pale, almost translucent skin.

“Leave me.”

The creature that had entered on two feet now crouched, its body contorting into a grotesque, quadrupedal form, and scurried away.

It was Mugicha’s masterpiece, years in the making.

His ancestors, who’d dedicated their lives to taming magical beasts, had all met their end at the claws and fangs of their creations.

However, their efforts had not been entirely in vain. The heirs to the Parman throne, raised in isolation, had been spared such a fate.

Mugicha had always hated the darkness, the solitude.

He craved companionship.

“Ah, someone equal to me. Not those disgusting insects.”

Commoners, peasants… In Mugicha’s eyes, anyone who wasn’t a differentiator was beneath him.

Easy to manipulate, occasionally rebellious… they were a nuisance.

Carl Lindbergh, however, was perfect.

A dominant Omega, coveted by the Empire, of pure royal blood.

There were no more obstacles. Once his ritual was complete, the world would be his.

Magical beasts would replace human labor, the royalty of other nations would kneel before him, and conquering the Empire would be child’s play.

And if Carl Lindbergh bore his children, Parman, no, his Empire, would thrive.

He craved more than just power.

He desired absolute control, a world where his every whim was obeyed, where tears flowed and ceased at his command.

Mugicha, naked, paced his chambers, then, finally, began to dress.

His black uniform, adorned with colorful magic crystals, was extravagant, fit for a king celebrating his victory.

He placed a large bouquet of red and white roses beside him, then looked out the window, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Rumble.

The final wall crumbled.

Heineken’s soldiers and knights cautiously entered the city, their eyes scanning their surroundings. They then looked up, towards Mugicha’s castle.

“Open the gates of hell.”

Mugicha’s command echoed through his empty chambers, reaching the soldiers below.

The ground trembled.

The earth near the castle walls cracked open, and monsters, their jaws gaping, surged forth.

Not just a few, but hundreds, thousands.

Parman’s new citizens, replacing the missing humans.

Blood and flesh splattered amidst the dust and debris.

The soldiers, despite their exhaustion from the long journey, their initial surprise at the lack of resistance, drew their swords, ready to fight.

The massive figures in white armor, the holy knights, cut through the monsters like scythes, their eyes fixed on Mugicha’s castle, their bloodlust palpable.

Heineken’s finest.

But how long could they last? Humans and monsters… the difference in their strength, their magic, was vast.

Mugicha smiled, a cruel, predatory grin spreading across his face.

This was exhilarating.

He’d never felt this alive.

He stamped his feet impatiently, his excitement uncontainable.

Then, still laughing, he issued another command.

“Bring me Prince Carl Lindbergh. Unharmed.”

The precious Omega, the one who would bear his heirs.

The one who might cure his loneliness.

 

❖ ❖ ❖

 

BOOOOOM.

The familiar sound of an explosion made Carl Lindbergh and Adrian Heineken rein in their horses.

“The battle has begun.”

“Shouldn’t we hurry?”

“It’s fine. They’ll send a signal if they need reinforcements. I’m more concerned about the silence.”

While Carl Lindbergh’s eyes were wide with anxiety, Adrian Heineken and Juniper seemed unconcerned.

Juniper even dismounted, claiming his horse needed water. Carl Lindbergh, unable to hide his impatience, paced restlessly.

“Shouldn’t we offer our support?”

“It’s fine. They have a separate signal for requesting reinforcements.”

And Count Bourbon’s communication device, connected directly to the Imperial Palace, was specifically designed for emergencies.

“It would be useful to have something like that all the time.” Carl commented, and Adrian replied, “It constantly drains magic, so it’s not for everyday use.”

“Magic is a life force for mages. That’s why we differentiate between dominant and recessive traits. And that’s why relying on magic stones, instead of wielding magic directly, has become so prevalent.”

“Ah.”

Carl wanted to smack himself for not remembering something so basic. He vaguely recalled Adrian mentioning it once, a casual remark he’d dismissed.

Back then, he’d assumed his role in this story would end once Adrian ended up with Leia.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been overlooking, how much he’d been taking for granted. He wished he could go back, to start over. He’d do things differently. He rubbed his forehead, frustrated.

Adrian, seeing his distress, looked at him with concern. Carl brushed it off, telling him it was nothing, but he made a mental note to learn more about magic and differentiations.

Carl Lindbergh, his impatience growing, mounted his horse.

“I’m worried about Count Bourbon. Let’s hurry.”

Adrian, who hadn’t dismounted, and Juniper, after watering his horse, followed.

“Count Bourbon is a powerful mage, second only to His Majesty. And his swordsmanship is legendary.”

He was a seasoned warrior, after all.

But Carl Lindbergh remained uneasy.

“Even if Count Bourbon is safe, what about the soldiers? I don’t understand this concept of ‘acceptable losses.’ I believe one should only use that phrase when all other options have been exhausted.”

Juniper, struck by his words, paused, then urged his horse forward.

He rode closer to Adrian, seeking his silent approval, then addressed Carl.

“So, you believe all lives are equal, Your Highness?”

“Not all lives, perhaps. But I believe every living being has a role, a purpose.”

Their horses’ pace quickened.

Juniper, wondering if the Lindbergh royal family provided such philosophical education, glanced at Carl. Adrian, however, was curious about Carl Lindbergh’s past.

Knowing or not knowing wouldn’t change his feelings for Carl, but he wanted to understand what had shaped him, what had made him so different.

He wanted to know everything about him, his parents’ untimely deaths, his sister’s loss, to share his burdens, to carry them together.

“Then allow me to rephrase my question, Your Highness.”

“I’ll answer if I can.”

“I believe you can.”

His speech about the ‘kindness of strangers’ had caused quite a stir among the nobility. Juniper had been wanting to ask him this ever since.

“This role, this purpose you speak of… are they all equal? Or do you have a method of differentiating them? If you could only save one person, would it be someone who could contribute to the greater good? Or someone you cherished personally?”

Carl Lindbergh was momentarily speechless, his mind racing.

Adrian, who’d been expecting a confident answer, simply observed him. Carl, however, was touching his nose, a strange, almost unconscious gesture.

“May I… postpone my answer?”

“Certainly, Your Highness. As a warrior, I often ask myself the same question.”

He hadn’t expected to discuss such philosophical matters with the prince, not here, not now.

Juniper smiled, letting his horse fall back slightly, giving them some space.

Carl Lindbergh’s strange gesture, touching his nose, wasn’t a sign of contemplation, but anxiety.

He wasn’t a philosopher, not a particularly deep thinker. He was starting to worry that he’d been pretending, that he’d let their praise and admiration inflate his ego.

As their horses galloped towards the next wall, the one marked with a teleportation circle, Carl’s mind raced.

What could he say? How could he answer Juniper’s question without revealing too much?

They rode in silence, their pace swift, covering in hours the distance the vanguard had taken days to traverse.

The teleportation circles, scattered throughout the land, copies of the original gate created by the goddess, allowed them to bypass Parman’s defenses. They were approaching the final circle.

Beyond it lay Parman’s capital, and… answers.

Carl had been fighting an invisible enemy, a system, an idea. Now, finally, he had a tangible target. It was a strangely comforting thought.

Soldiers, recognizing Carl Lindbergh and Adrian Heineken, rushed towards them.

Just before they arrived, Carl Lindbergh rode closer to Juniper.

“Oh, have you formulated an answer already?”

Juniper, surprised by his speed, raised an eyebrow.

Carl Lindbergh licked his lips nervously.

“Value and purpose… they change with time. But there are absolute values, things that remain constant.”

“And what are those, Your Highness?”

“Innocence. Untainted, pure… like a child’s laughter or tears. They have no ulterior motives. Or… animals. Their existence itself is valuable. And ordinary people. They might act selfishly sometimes, but for the most part, they’re good.”

‘Ordinary people.’ The phrase resonated with Juniper.

“Those deserve to live.”

“So, conversely… those who don’t… deserve to die?”

Carl nodded.

That was unexpected. Juniper stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Those who sacrifice others for their own gain, those who commit atrocities without remorse, those who are blind to their own wickedness.”

“Indeed.”

The grim expression suited him.

“And to answer your last question… I would save the one I loved.”

“And the greater good?”

At Juniper’s question, Carl Lindbergh glanced at Adrian, who reached out and took his hand. Carl’s fingers intertwined with his.

“Fortunately, the person I love also serves the greater good. I haven’t considered anyone else.”

Carl Lindbergh’s smile was dazzling, his eyes sparkling.

Juniper winced internally, cursing himself for asking such a question, only to be subjected to their blatant display of affection.