Lucien was barely standing.
His legs trembled, and blood trickled down his chin. He coughed and tightened his grip on his sword, using it like a crutch to push himself upright. Every part of his body screamed in agony, but he didn't care. He wouldn't fall here. He wouldn't let his story end in some forgotten forest, another casualty swallowed by the world.
The blood-red blade flickered, glowing faintly like a heartbeat, pulsing with him. As if reacting to its master's will, it shimmered with renewed energy.
"No...."
Lucien whispered, his voice hoarse, but full of fire.
"Not like this. Not again."
The memories of a lonely, sickly prince mocked him. The stares. The silence. The pity. He clenched his jaw. That wasn't going to be his legacy.
"I will live. I will die carving my name into the world—not forgotten, not useless."
The system pinged.
Warning: Host is critically injured. Retreat is advised.
Lucien spat blood and shook his head.
"Shut up."
His eyes locked on the wounded boar, a beast of nightmares, twice his size and covered in blood-soaked fur. Its belly had been slashed open from his earlier strike. Blood poured from the wound, but it still stood, snarling.
It was limping, rage boiling in its eyes. Foam gathered at its mouth. The final strike was coming.
The beast lunged.
Lucien's body screamed at him to run, but he didn't move. He waited—watched.
There.
A heartbeat of stillness.
The boar paused to raise its claw for a finishing strike.
Lucien launched forward.
"Blood Sword Technique—First Form: Blood Vein Slash!"
His sword burned bright red, crackling with energy. His movement was pure instinct, honed by hundreds of hours of practice.
Slash!
A red arc ripped through the air, cleaving not just the boar's exposed belly—but splitting it straight down the middle. The force of the blow extended past the beast, gouging a deep cut in the ground behind it.
The monster didn't roar. It didn't move.
It collapsed, lifeless. Dead.
Lucien stood in silence. The sword dropped from his hand. His breath came in ragged gasps.
It was over.
He staggered forward, legs barely functioning, and retrieved the boar's severed head. Proof of his victory. He forced it into his travel sack, strapping it tightly, though his hands were shaking.
The rest of the boar's body slowly dissolved into mist—as many magical beasts did upon death.
Lucien collapsed again, his chest aching, his back on fire from the earlier blow.
But he smiled. He had won.
When he awoke, the sky above was pale. The sun was high—afternoon. Birds chirped in the distance. He could feel the grass beneath his body, soft compared to the brutal forest floor.
He sat up slowly, wincing. His entire body throbbed.
"System... Status.."
He rasped.
[Status Window Opened]
Name: Lucien Graycliff
Age: 17
Race: Human
Title: [Useless Prince]
Class: Swordsman
Level: 8
Skills: Blood Vein Slash (Mastered)
Trait: Phantom Edge
Mana: 26/33
Stamina: 2/40
Status: Alive (Severely Wounded)
Lucien winced.\
"Ouch..."
His back felt like it had been split in two. Every step forward now would be punishment, but he had to move. He couldn't stay in the woods any longer.
He walked.
For hours, he stumbled across sparse terrain, avoiding confrontation with beasts he sensed in the shadows. Only a few weak monsters dared approach him, and he drove them off with lazy swings.
Even with his new power, he had no energy left. He had burned through everything.
By nightfall, he found a meadow—open, peaceful. No trees to hide enemies. He sat, pulled his food from his bag, and ate in silence.
The stars blinked above him.
He passed out again.
Two days passed.
Lucien traveled with slow, determined steps. He did not train. He did not swing. He simply walked. Rested. Ate. Walked again.
And then, finally, the gray-stoned silhouette of the palace rose into view.
He was home.
The palace gates opened, and servants gasped.
"That's... the Fourth Prince?!"
"He's alive!"
"Look at him—he's hurt! Get help!"
Lucien stumbled forward, the weight of the boar's head still slung across his back.
Gasps followed him as he moved toward the palace entrance. Guards looked at one another in disbelief. Some who had mocked him days ago now stared in awe.
"H-He really did it..."
"The Useless Prince killed a D-Rank beast...?"
"Impossible..."
They moved to support him, arms lifting him from both sides.
Lucien shook his head.
"I want to see my father. Now."
The servants hesitated for a moment, then nodded. They carried him carefully through the palace hallways, through the tall doors of the throne room.
The king sat at the high seat. Queen Elizabeth stood nearby, her expression frozen in surprise and fear.
Lucien took the last steps himself.
He dropped the bloody sack in front of his father with a dull thud.
He looked up at the king, eyes determined.
"I have proven myself."
And then, his legs gave out.
Darkness took him.
He collapsed.