I Became the Narrow-Eyed Character in the Little Prince Game

In a room with drawn curtains, shrouded in calm darkness, an elderly man with white hair sat at a desk.
It was none other than Gaston Galimar, the headmaster.

He sat motionless, his eyes closed in deep concentration.
The teacup balanced on his fingertips was growing cold, untouched.
“...”

Not even the faintest movement.
The atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive.
Though silent, it carried an undercurrent of chaos and turmoil.

The old man stood amidst the shattered fragments of a future breaking apart violently.
And then—
“...Has it begun?”

The prophet murmured.
He sensed it—the foreboding from deep underground.
The beast’s howl, laden with fear, rage, despair, and sorrow.

The sticky stirrings of malice.
It seemed the story was flowing unchanged.
In the end, it would not escape the prophecy.

The ticking hands of fate moved as inexorably as the executioner’s axe falling upon the condemned.
The old man set aside the teacup filled with red tea.
For a brief moment, the trembling crimson surface reflected his weary self, laid bare before duty.

His aged lips parted.
“Betrayer.”
To a certain boy, the prophet uttered a plea that would never reach him, his heart growing heavier.
“Please... take care of that child.”

His voice dispersed into emptiness, and the headmaster fell silent once more, as if swallowed by the waves.
***
In the academy’s underground, blood and corpses lay scattered everywhere.

It was a space steeped in darkness.
The ceiling was so high it couldn’t be measured, the damp air added to the eerie atmosphere, and the pervasive stench was overpowering.
The temple seemed to embody humanity’s descent into depravity.

The very depths of sin.
And we stood at its center.
BOOM!

With an explosive noise, the ceiling shook.
The flow of demonic energy surged violently.
Its force raged through the underground like a storm.

Fragments of shattered magic, blood, and flesh scattered in every direction.
The enemies were coming.
“Slaughter the lambs and offer them to the Lord!”

The cultists charged forward in unison, screaming their deranged chants.
Every one of them was weeping tears of blood.
If one were to depict a nightmare in painting, it would look like this.

Frowning slightly, I swung my sword lightly.
“Hmph.”
Slice!

I cut down an arrow flying straight toward me.
The peculiar vibration carried through my fingertips.
It didn’t feel like cutting through metal or wood, but rather like slicing through flesh and bone.

After all, the weapon was crafted from human bones and flesh.
“Offerings... using life as a medium.”
A truly repulsive method.

The flesh and organs still squirmed as if alive.
And whether due to the demonic energy’s corruption or something else, the areas stained with blood began to corrode.
It was grotesque, designed to evoke disgust.

I gripped my sword.
“This is troublesome.”
I needed to conserve my output.

The seal left by the Ancient Star had cracked under the demonic energy’s infusion.
Restoring it would require an unknown amount of power, so I had to limit my use of deception.
A frustrating restriction.

But of course,
“That doesn’t mean I can’t handle this.”
It was just a complaint.

Having been personally trained by a swordmaster, I was far from powerless, even unarmed.
I’d fought my way through mud and filth countless times before.
A thick layer of experience coated my steps as I advanced.

Clang!
A light swing of my sword clashed with the spear of a cultist in the vanguard.
Sparks flew in the instant of collision.

I aggressively broke through his defense and drove him back.
Clang! Scrape... screeek...!
While I was locked in a clash with the cultist’s blade, another cultist crept up from my flank, aiming a thrust at my neck.

The coordination was smooth and seamless, like flowing water.
However—
The moment they were seen, their plan was doomed.

I flicked my finger lightly.
Snap!
With barely any output—so minor it wouldn’t even register—a thin veil of shadow covered the enemies’ eyes.

Their vision was momentarily blocked as if they’d been blindfolded.
Their stance wavered.
“...?!”

It lasted only one second.
But in that brief moment, their attack missed its mark.
The blade grazed my cheek, leaving behind a faint sensation of warmth from bone fragments.

The cultist’s position faltered, their balance lost.
I didn’t let the opening slip by.
I shoved the cultist I had been facing, seized their flowing hair, and yanked hard.

Though the shadow over their eyes lifted, restoring their sight, it was already too late.
“Ta-da.”
Slash!

A silver arc traced through the air.
And then,
their severed head fell into my hand.
The headless body collapsed soon after.

As I shifted my stance backward, the cultist I had shoved earlier charged at me again.
Their bloodshot eyes were filled with madness, tears of blood streaming down their face.
With a scream-like prayer,

“!!Dasinrubu rliu sekesinma!!”
The cultist swung their spear with a shout.
I angled my sword to deflect the incoming attack.

Simultaneously, I grabbed the severed head by its long hair and swung it like a flail.
Whack!
The sickening thud echoed as the head struck the cultist’s temple.

Staggering from the impact, the cultist lost their balance.
Without hesitation, I thrust my sword into their heart.
Squish!

Rancid blood splattered.
“That makes five.”
Exhaling calmly, I assessed my situation.

Even though I needed to conserve output, it didn’t mean I couldn’t make use of deception to assist in combat.
I clapped my hands.
Snap!

A golden afterimage flickered, and I reappeared in the midst of the enemy lines.
Forming projectiles from shadow with my fingertips, I unleashed them.
“Where do you think you’re looking?”

Thwack! Thwack!
The cultists didn’t even have time to react.
The obsidian shards pierced through their foreheads, scattering blood and flesh like leaves in the wind.

I steadied my breathing, slightly strained.
While fighting barehanded was taxing on stamina, it wasn’t difficult to handle the small fry for now.
"The problem is..."

The sheer number of them seemed endless.
Malice charging at us relentlessly.
Even with their bodies pierced, slashed, or their limbs severed, the puppets continued to attack.

Their movements were so blindly mechanical it felt unnatural.
Clearly, this wasn’t an easy opponent.
I glared at the man standing at the center of the blood-soaked temple.

It was a familiar face.
"The Puppeteer."
Among the cultists, there were occasional anomalies.

Katasto.
A phenomenon where demonic energy fused with an individual's innate talent—be it music, art, or depiction—breaking the boundaries of their original capabilities.
In terms of rarity, they were as uncommon as the [Stars].

And each of them possessed power akin to a calamity.
In the original story, they often appeared as harbingers of destruction—hunting key figures, collapsing cathedrals, and leading the world toward ruin.
This man was one of them.

"So, you’ve shown yourself."
The Puppeteer.
Known in common parlance as Marionnette.

In the original, he was a mid-game antagonist.
A top-tier asset among the cultists and a grim reaper who amassed countless corpses.
The small fry around us were all his thralls.

"As expected... such a troublesome ability."
The seemingly infinite swarm of soldiers, driven by the will of their master.
The puppeteer wasn’t just controlling chimeras and humans.

Now, even the corpses littered across the floor were rising under his command.
Rather than cleaning the battlefield, the chaos only deepened.
My breathing grew heavier from the intense battle.

It was clear that conserving output wouldn’t be enough.
"But."
The situation changes when you’re not alone.

I signaled to the fox, her hair now dyed a fiery red.
It was time to call for judgment by flame.
"Irene."

"Yes."
"Burn them down."
"Leave it to me."

In an instant, a streak of fire shot across the air in a straight line.
Flames erupted, consuming everything in their path.
The intense heat turned the corpses and puppets into mere ashes.

A deafening roar filled the temple.
BOOM!
The sheer force of the flames seemed capable of bringing the temple to ruin.

As I brushed away a spark grazing my cheek, I turned to the princess.
She, as if waiting, planted her sword into the ground.
"Your Highness."

"I’ve been waiting."
Her lips spoke the words to overturn the battlefield.
"Let the sword bloom."

-Charlotte’s Domain Swordsmanship Secret Art-
‘Ashen Garden’
Rumble!
The marble floor cracked as steel vines began to sprout one by one.

An intricate display of swords and roses unfurled, carving a path forward.
As her delicate hand twisted the sword embedded in the ground, thousands of petals, sharp as blades, scattered through the air.
The shards pierced the hearts of the puppets, staining the flowers with blood.

Watching the scene unfold, I murmured to myself.
"The flow isn’t bad."
I calmly assessed the situation.

Two allies, each effectively holding off the puppets.
Although the opponent was formidable, the small fry were being cleared out efficiently.
The continuous symphony of fire and steel carved a straight path forward.

A path leading to the altar.
"I can finally see it."
Beyond the smell of burning flesh and the scattered remains, the Puppeteer came into view.

He stood with one hand on the seal, staring at us with cold, vacant eyes.
It was as though he fully recognized our presence.
"Judging by the state of the altar... progress is still below 50%."

There was still ample time.
For now, clearing the area would take priority.
I cloaked my hands in shadow.

The opponent wasn’t to be underestimated.
While not as dangerous as the ‘Conductor,’ another [Star]-tier enemy, the Puppeteer was still one of the most dangerous antagonists.
Especially with my output restricted, he wasn’t an adversary I could approach carelessly.

I compressed the thinly spread deception around me.
Just as I was ready to unleash it—
"So... I see."

The Puppeteer suddenly spoke.
His gaze fixed in one direction.
His madness-filled eyes reflected nothing but the golden serpent.

As if he had realized something, he muttered,
"We’ve heard about the one who stands against our will."
I was ready to ignore his ramblings.

But the next words froze me in my tracks.
"It was you, ■■■■."
He used that name.

My name.
How did he know?
For a moment, my mind stalled.

"Wait, what did you just say...?"
"I cannot defeat you."
That much was true.

How could a mere mortal challenge the vessel of a god?
However, failure was not an option.
For the sake of His will.

"Thus... I offer everything."
Crunch!
The Puppeteer took sudden action.

Still reeling from hearing my name, I failed to notice the suspicious movement in time.
He bit down on his tongue, scattering demonic energy around him.
From the altar, a crimson light began to rise.

"A self-sacrificial offering...!"
He had offered his own life.
The soul of a Katasto—one of the rarest and most powerful beings on the continent—was more than enough to shatter the already fragile seal.

And it happened in an instant.
CRACK!
The sound of shattering glass echoed.

The seal broke into countless pieces.
At the same time, pitch-black light surged from the temple floor, accompanied by a whirlwind of demonic energy that obscured all vision.
Blood and body fragments were tossed around in the chaos.

I created a shadow barrier to shield my allies.
BOOM!
The relentless storm of demonic energy devastated the temple.

The Puppeteer’s body was torn to shreds, and even his puppets dissolved without a trace.
I gradually increased the output of deception, holding back the violent storm.
How much time had passed?

As the ferocious energy began to subside, the true calamity revealed itself.
"...This is bad."
Clicking my tongue, I looked up.

The sight before me was nothing short of horrifying.
A massive creature’s head nearly grazed the 50-meter-high ceiling.
Its enormous wings and tail covered the ruined temple entirely.

Black flames flickered within its maw.
Though it was a living being, the word "life" felt out of place.
Its flesh and organs were rotting in several places, including its heart.

[EP23. The Birth of Evil]
-Blood and malice scream for death-
The episode's boss monster.
According to the lore, it was the embodiment of death, [It], an ancient dragon corrupted into a chimera form.

In modern terms, a Death Dragon.
We were staring directly at the calamity.
ROAR!

A deafening roar shook the entire underground.
Feeling the chill run down my spine, I muttered a complaint.
"So, it’s come to this."

Clenching my fists, I gripped the shadow-forged blade with both hands.
My closed eyes slowly opened, revealing dangerously glowing white pupils.
The serpent spoke.

"Hunting isn’t my hobby, but there’s no choice."
It seemed I’d have to resort to the second plan.