Chapter 1
Possession
“Every human alive carries at least one burden they must bear throughout their lives.”
For instance, caring for elderly, ailing parents.
Or pushing oneself to study relentlessly, driven by the fear of falling behind peers from the academy.
Or constantly keeping oneself in check because of a body prone to gaining weight easily.
Some call that burden fate; others call it the trajectory of life.
“Still, don’t you think achieving national independence is a bit too heavy a load? The weight on these shoulders is just far too crushing.”
Pitch-black hair. Deep, blue eyes.
These were the distinctive traits inherent to the royal lineage of the Kingdom of Dever.
Though, calling oneself royalty mattered little now, considering the kingdom had been reduced to a colony subjugated by the Litania Empire.
“How unexpected. I never imagined the famous Raven of Dever—the Crown Prince himself—would say such a thing. Well… perhaps if it were me, but you?”
Zion shrugged his shoulders. The motion caused the iron chains connecting his wrists to the ceiling to rattle sharply.
“You’re entirely right, of course. But can’t a guy make a self-deprecating joke just to lighten the mood?”
Zion stared intently into his eyes. The man did not avert his gaze.
A knight of the enemy empire. A torturer turned interrogator.
And… a former comrade who had once fought alongside him for the liberation of their homeland.
“When you and I were fleeing from the Imperial pursuers… do you remember?”
“Yes. As if I could ever forget.”
“The half of a wild potato we shared over a secretly lit fire—that tasted absolutely divine, didn’t it?”
A brief silence followed before a response returned.
“Is that so? For me, that was the exact moment I realized I utterly despaired of swallowing something that tasted like mud.”
And so, he had defected to the worst imaginable master among the high nobility of the enemy nation, and now stood before Zion—faithfully carrying out his orders to torture his former lord.
“You know what? I actually understand you.”
“…Pardon?”
“Honestly, it’s stranger that the other comrades haven’t defected to the Empire. Even I wanted to throw this heavy burden away more than a few times.”
The turncoat’s eyes widened.
This was not something that should come from the mouth of Zion Blize—the symbol of the liberation movement and independence struggle, the sole direct royal bloodline and last legitimacy of the Dever Royal Family, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Dever Liberation Army.
“Are you truly serious?”
“Though, my subordinates said no.”
Zion’s subordinates were, after all, once the interrogator’s former comrades.
“Indeed. Of course they would. Foolish in their righteousness as always…”
Kreeeeak.
The interrogator’s words trailed off at the sudden, unnatural noise.
“Ah. Because this was acquired only recently, it hasn’t been properly broken in yet.”
Hasn’t been properly broken in, huh.
Hasn’t… been broken in.
Zion smirked as he looked at the traitor.
‘He’s completely given up on being a Deverian.’
“Does the armor look good to you?”
Mage-Armor. A high-tech knightly armor exclusive to the Litania Empire.
“I heard that if the neural thread inside remains alive, it can create friction noises. I see the rumors were true.”
“……”
A noise reminiscent of a muffled groan.
It was a malfunction caused by a ‘component’ that hadn’t died yet—like a fish flopping while being skinned alive.
“Now that you’re wearing Mage-Armor, you must be at least twice as strong. How does it feel to wield a weapon created by grinding your fellow Deverians into spare parts?”
Mage-Armor was a weapon produced by subjecting the people of Dever to live human experimentation and ultimately turning them into mechanical components.
To borrow the Empire’s phrase: the glory of inferior flesh becoming one with superior technology.
That was the kind of nation the Litania Empire was.
“Imperials share a uniform mindset—that those who are weak deserve what happens to them. Since you defected, did your mindset change along with it?”
“…Cease the provocation. You will regret it.”
Well, I doubt I’ll ever regret it.
Seeing your face twist in agony is far too entertaining.
“Do you remember the Great Famine? Do you remember Melin?”
In the past, the Empire had flattened all of Dever’s wheat fields to set up large-scale cultivation zones for specialized crops like Mana Grass.
Then came a severe drought.
The natural sequence of events led straight to the Great Famine… and widespread starvation.
“We both loved the wheat bread Melin baked for us. I liked her because she felt like an elder sister, and you naturally loved her because she was your fiancée.”
Melin was merely a village girl from the slash-and-burn lands, and her wheat bread hadn’t actually been anything extraordinary.
It only tasted painfully delicious because those times had been so dire.
“And we had to watch as Melin starved to death, her body reduced to skin and bones.”
“Crown Prince… the wheat field my father devoted his entire life to… has become a herb field.”
That was the reason Zion had launched a massive bombing raid on Mana Grass plantations across Dever back then.
“That is precisely what I despise. Had I defected to the Empire sooner, Melin wouldn’t have died.”
“Ah, so that’s your logic.”
Anger flared in the turncoat’s eyes.
“The entire Empire was thrown into shock during that bombing. The emergence of a 20-something Archmage. The return of Zion Blize, Crown Prince of Dever. Blinded by revenge and blinded by Your Highness’s potential, I made a foolish choice.”
It was the rage of a man who had squandered time that should be measured in decades.
More precisely, it was the anger of someone who had resolved to rationalize it that way.
“I told you before. Even though our royal family’s magic enjoys a grand reputation, if it were truly that incredible, we wouldn’t have become a colony in the first place.”
The so-called illustrious magical house was the royal house of Dever.
That was why, during the Magitech Revolution, they stubbornly clung to pure magic.
The end result of isolationism that turned its back on the turning point of an era was colonization.
“Anyway. How did we get onto this topic? Ah, the reasons I can’t defect to the Empire. The final reason is the most personal and private of all. Vengeance for my father.”
“Are you referring to the late King Exon XIII?”
It was a reason the turncoat knew all too well, even without an explanation.
Well, just like every other reason Zion had listed so far.
“In the end, I was captured before I could kill that bastard Marquis Gebel. Such a shame.”
Zion was the sole survivor among the direct royal bloodline of Dever.
It was an open secret that Marquis Gebel, one of the power brokers of the Empire, was the mastermind behind the serial mysterious deaths of the Dever royal family.
“It would have been impossible anyway. It is impossible for a mere insurgent to breach all defenses and security to reach my master.”
When the turncoat decided to defect to the Empire, the noble he sought out was Marquis Gebel.
He had chosen the very man who killed his lord’s father as his new master.
‘Which is precisely why you must die alongside me.’
Concealing his true thoughts, Zion smiled. Then he asked,
“Speaking of which… what’s today’s date?”
“It has been three days since the New Year.”
“So it’s already been a year since I was dragged in here…”
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp!
Clatter! Crash!
A noisy commotion echoed from outside. Unhesitating footsteps, followed by a large group of people.
“Where is it—that inferior insect of Dever?!”
BANG!
Someone kicked open the iron door and burst inside. Dismay washed over the interrogator’s face, while pure joy lit up Zion’s.
It’s here, finally!
The day he had been waiting and waiting for!
Hair like spun gold and eyes as deep and red as blood—the defining features of the Imperial royal bloodline.
“F-Fifth Prince? What brings Your Highness to such a humble place…”
“What brings me? What brings me?!”
The 9th Prince screeched at the top of his lungs.
“The bastard who tried to murder me is still breathing, and you ask what brings me here?!”
“……”
The failure of the 9th Prince assassination operation.
That was the reason Zion was currently held captive in the prison of the Imperial Capital.
‘I thought it was a great opportunity, but to think it was a trap.’
The 9th Prince was a notorious scoundrel—so infamous that even the Imperial court had given up on him.
Calling him a mere rogue didn’t do him justice; people referred to him as the trash prince.
‘I thought it was the perfect chance when he got kicked out of the imperial palace for causing trouble…’
Who could have guessed a trap lay in wait that even an Archmage like himself couldn’t escape?
Zion was about to fall into thought, wondering where things had gone wrong, but… he couldn’t afford to.
The immediate turn of events was far too stimulating.
SLAP!
His cheek instantly burned with heat.
‘Stimulating in a bad way, though.’
The 9th Prince, who had slapped Zion’s cheek out of nowhere, sneered mockingly.
“Zion Blize… Ha, I feel as though my name is being sullied just by speaking it. A name far too grand for a gutter rat like you.”
Indeed.
By a cruel twist of irony, the 9th Prince’s name was also Zion.
The only commonality between two people who couldn’t be more vastly different.
‘Do you even know the meaning of that name before barking like that?’
What was the point in saying anything?
He decided to get straight to business.
Because today was the very day he had been anticipating ever since he was captured.
“Vitri, you goddamn bastard!”
Time to start acting. Zion let out a sharp scream, spewing rage.
“How dare you trick me! Why is the 9th Prince here?!”
The turncoat, Vitri, immediately checked the 9th Prince’s mood.
Seeing the Prince’s face rapidly turn icy cold, Vitri turned pale as a sheet.
“What on earth are you talking about all of a sudden?! Such cheap tricks won’t work!”
“You said you’d let me go! You said if I handed over the information, you’d spare my life! For old time’s sake, you said we could be together again! And yet you brought the 9th Prince here?! How dare you make a fool out of me!”
“When did I ever—sigh. Your Highness, the 9th Prince! I can explain everything! First of all, I am currently serving Marquis Gebel…”
“Shut your mouth.”
THWACK!
The turncoat could no longer utter another word.
His head had just been pierced straight through by a ballista-type magitech tool specifically prepared for an Archmage.
Since his mouth was gone, no man could continue speaking. Thus, the turncoat would never be able to clear his name.
‘No, Vitri… I hope you don’t even dare feel wronged. Repent for your sins. I’ll be joining you shortly.’
Still, that 9th Prince is quite something.
To shoot without a single moment of hesitation.
“9th Prince. You killed the Marquis’s knight and yet you don’t worry about the repercussions at all? I almost envy the sheer recklessness you enjoy.”
It was sarcasm, but more than half of it was genuine.
Zion had always wanted to be free.
He wanted to shed his heavy duties and feel lighthearted.
He hadn’t been able to do so until now, and his life would end today, but still…
“Did you get annoyed because things dragged on for a year? So you came to kill me yourself.”
A cruel expression settled on the 9th Prince’s face.
“It would never do for the bastard who dared try to kill This Prince to remain alive for an entire year.”
He seemed to completely disregard the fact that the delay was meant to extract information through interrogation.
A thought process fitting for the absolute worst trash of the Empire.
“I swear on the honor of the Imperial Family: I shall grant you the most painful death in this world.”
This place was overflowing with torture implements, and Zion had experienced the Empire’s torture techniques firsthand over the past year.
However—
Even so, Zion remained composed.
“It really is Chironi after all. He was right this time, too.”
“What did you just say?”
“You know what? I’ve been waiting for you, 9th Prince.”
The reason he had endured a year of humiliation and disgrace.
As the leader of the Liberation Army, it was to carry out the operation to assassinate the 9th Prince once more.
“What kind of nonsense are you suddenly spouting? Have you completely lost your mind?”
It seemed he still hadn’t grasped the situation. Well, expecting him to feel a sense of crisis in this scenario would be foolish anyway.
It would be stranger to feel threatened by a mage whose mana was sealed and who was completely subdued.
‘…Or at least, that’s what people of this era would think. Generally speaking, that is the truth.’
However.
However, you see—
A hundred years after the Magitech Revolution.
Zion was virtually the only remaining purist mage in this era.
And that was why nobody knew:
If an Archmage was willing to sacrifice themselves, they could achieve anything.
Whoosh!
A gentle breeze blew. Even though this was an enclosed prison, a subterranean detention facility.
“Quere Stellam Orbita.”
The moment the wind swept up the 9th Prince’s golden bangs—
CRACK! CRUNCH!
Mana surged.
Like a sudden gale, and like a giant boulder.
Both sets of iron shackles shattered simultaneously.
Zion shook off his hands, while the other Zion’s eyes widened to their absolute limit, filled with nothing but pure shock.
“H-How…?! How?!”
“We have a really smart guy in our coalition named Chironi.”
A perverted bastard who calculated every possibility down to the worst-case scenario. That was why Zion used to call him ‘Cowardly Chironi.’
“He told me: If you get captured, focus only on surviving.”
He said that after about a year, the 9th Prince would come looking for him, so he should aim for that opportunity.
‘That bastard Chironi… he got it right again. Say what you will, the guy’s got a brilliant head on his shoulders.’
Magical intelligence and strategic intelligence belonged to entirely different realms.
Because of that, Zion had stopped thinking for himself and put his absolute trust in Chironi’s words.
That was how he had endured a year of time.
“Unlike magic, I’m an absolute blockhead when it comes to strategy. I can pull off a few petty tricks, but that’s about it. So I had no choice but to trust him. Is it finally time for my reward?”
Furthermore, while he might be a blockhead in strategy, looking at it from the opposite perspective—
Zion was a genius whose magical intelligence ranked among the very best throughout history.
CRACKLE!
The resistance group for the liberation of Dever—the Dever Liberation Army.
Crown Prince and Commander-in-Chief. The Raven of Dever, Archmage Zion Blize.
The bounty placed on that name was a staggering 10,000,000,000 Luon.
Zion was a criminal who carried a bounty equivalent to a nation’s annual budget around his neck like a necklace.
And that highest bounty in Imperial history served as proof of his danger.
“Mana, forge thyself once more.”
The moment he chanted the incantation, one of Zion’s sleeves fell limp—his arm had transformed into a blade of blue light.
At the same time, the 9th Prince lashed out in desperation.
“I asked you how you’re using magic! Answer This Prince’s query!”
Must he really use that arrogant tone of voice even in a situation like this?
“Are you curious?”
“That is an order, you wretched thing!”
“It’s a secret, you wretched thing!”
Despite being terrified, the 9th Prince’s face flushed bright red, unable to control his temper.
How laughable.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the habit of satisfying an enemy’s curiosity right before I kill them. Let’s wrap this up quickly—I need to kill you and get to bombing the Imperial Capital.”
It was a miracle bought at the cost of his life.
So taking out just the 9th Prince wouldn’t be enough.
Surely a bombardment on the Imperial Capital would leave a mark in the history books, showing that Zion Blize’s final spark burned quite brightly.
Flap-flap-flap-flap!
The sound of a raven flapping its wings echoed from somewhere.
Dark, shadow-like mana surged forth—a power that felt simultaneously like a shadow and yet cool and translucent.
This was the reason Zion was called by the alias The Raven, the Great Raven of Dever.
“S-Spare me! I was wrong! Please, spare me…!”
“I can’t. You see, you’re far more valuable dead than alive.”
Now then, shall we begin the execution?
“9th Prince. Did you say the name Zion was too heavy for me?”
You were right. It really is far too heavy.
I suffered greatly under a fate and trajectory I never asked for.
“The one who leads. The one who protects. The guide. That is the meaning behind our name.”
It was a name far too noble for a 9th Prince who enjoyed reckless indulge beyond simple freedom.
So, he would lead this man to his death and advance the liberation of Dever by even a single step.
“Go on ahead and bicker with Vitri. I’ll be joining you soon.”
Amidst the fluttering mana that resembled raven feathers—
He released the bowstring.
It was the exact moment the blade of mana pierced through the 9th Prince’s heart.
— — — — !
— — — — !
A sudden sensation washed over him.
‘…—Ah… ah—!’
It felt as though his entire body was melting away.
No.
It was shattering.
His body had turned into particles of light.
It was flowing.
— — — — — — !
— — — — — — !
His field of vision crumpled like paper.
A sensation of being squeezed and compressed, as if forcibly squeezing through a narrow crevice.
And then, an unfamiliar voice echoed.
— — — — — — — — !
— — — — — — — — !
「The time of the covenant has arrived; thus, I declare its fulfillment.」
— — — — — — — — — — !
— — — — — — — — — — !
It inverted.
It turned upside down.
The moment he felt that sensation—
Blackout.
He lost consciousness.
“Gasp!”
Zion gasped heavily, pulling in the breath he had been holding, and sat up.
“What happened to… Huh?”
His voice was different. It felt utterly unfamiliar.
Instead of a torture chamber, he was in a luxurious bedroom. Conveniently, a mirror stood directly in front of him.
He could see a face.
“Blonde hair… and blood-red eyes?”
The Imperial Prince and infamous scoundrel. The 9th Prince, Zion Riobelt, was staring back at him from inside the mirror.
“…Our bodies… swapped…?”
‘I definitely pierced his heart… Ah.’
The sensation of melting and merging together.
That voice he heard at the very end.
“…The time of the covenant has arrived; thus, I declare its fulfillment…”
What covenant? What fulfillment?
Even with the knowledge of an Archmage, he couldn’t fathom the context or the cause behind this.
“This is absurd. A freedom fighter from a colonized nation becoming a prince of the oppressor state?”
Knock, knock, knock!
A tapping sound on the door. While Zion tensed up, a butler with stark white hair and a silver beard appeared.
“Your Highness. I have come to inspect the formal attire you will wear at the New Year’s Banquet.”
How should he respond?
Should he act like a scoundrel for now?
“I don’t recall telling you to come in.”
The old butler smoothly dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead onto the floor.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
‘Uh… hey?’
What is he doing? Is he crazy?
Ah. Don’t tell me…
Did the 9th Prince usually make him apologize like this?
‘What an absolute bastard.’
If he really forced people to do this, well…
He certainly earned his reputation as human trash.
‘I have no memories of his past, so what should I do?’
While he was lost in thought, the butler poured his heart out, pleading desperately.
“Your Highness, please have mercy! I took the liberty of being disrespectful only because this is an urgent matter regarding your attendance at the banquet. Do you not know that this New Year’s Banquet is a monumental occasion that will determine the next few years of the Empire?”
I don’t know. I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.
‘What do I do? Should I pretend to be the 9th Prince for now…? Won’t I get caught? In the first place, if I have to live in this body… ugh, disgusting. First, I’ll knock him out to buy some time to think—’
“Especially since it doubles as the inauguration ceremony for Marquis Gebel as the Colonial Governor-General of Dever…”
His train of thought snapped instantly.
Gebel?
“Wait a minute. Hold on. Who is becoming what?”
Marquis Gebel—that complete bastard who caused the death of the last king of Dever—
Is becoming the Colonial Governor-General of Dever?
“Butler. I’ve changed my mind.”
This was no time to sit around overthinking.
First, he had to move.
“If I go to the banquet, it should be possible to at least exchange a greeting with Marquis Gebel, right?”
“Of course, Your Highness! Marquis Gebel will surely be delighted as well.”
‘Hahaha. Before this, even if I wanted to kill Gebel, I couldn’t even meet him.’
He had to risk his life just to catch a single glimpse of the man’s face.
And yet now, the butler was begging him to go meet him.
“I must go. Of course I have to go.”
He could finally meet his father’s sworn enemy.
There was no reason to hesitate.
…Furthermore.
Zion looked into the mirror once more.
‘I get to meet Gebel with this face, huh.’
With golden hair and blood-red eyes, the noble Prince wore a sinister, wicked smile.
