The Hidden Extra: The Lazy Prince Refuses to Ascend The Throne

”My dear, what happened to you?” Anastasia asked anxiously.

She looked at Alvaron, whose face was grim and dark, as if he had endured an exceptionally bad day.

Alvaron drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yet the anger and hatred within him still burned, and the only thing that could soothe it was killing Rovert himself.

”It’s fine,” he said, forcing calm into his voice.

”You’re lying.” Anastasia pursed her lips in disapproval. ”Look at your expression—how could you possibly be okay? Tell me what really happened.”

She leaned closer and gently smoothed the collar of his robe. Alvaron felt a warmth in his chest, and slowly, his frustration began to ease.

”Actually...”

He began to recount what had just occurred. Anastasia was his wife, and in the family hierarchy, she came second.

More importantly, she was no ordinary woman. Educated and intelligent, she was someone he always turned to when problems arose, discussing everything together.

Ten minutes later, Alvaron paused, letting out a soft sigh as he rubbed his temples.

”That’s what happened, my dear. I was furious... I wanted to kill Rovert Castellan with my own hands.”

His voice was cold, laced with a powerful killing intent.

”This...” Anastasia fell silent, her face pale.

She had never imagined that such terrible news would strike their family. The head of the Castellan family, Rovert, was a ruthless man who had experimented on the men of the eastern region.

The most horrifying part was that he used them as objects of lust before subjecting them to his experiments.

As a conservative woman, Anastasia found his actions revolting and immoral.

A wave of nausea swept over her, but she quickly forced it down.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and asked, ”What will you do now? Will you mobilize your troops?”

”Of course,” Alvaron said firmly. ”I will kill that man myself—and make sure he suffers in the cruelest way imaginable.”

His eyes blazed with absolute determination.

”I understand your anger—it’s only natural,” Anastasia said gently, grasping his right hand. ”But isn’t that too hasty? You just said Prince Nolan asked you not to interfere. If you defy that, it’s the same as going against his orders.”

Her words reminded Alvaron of the note he had found among the documents—one warning him not to intervene.

It made him suspect that Nolan himself had prepared the documents and that the mysterious woman was likely his subordinate.

Snapping out of his reverie, Alvaron clicked his tongue in annoyance. ”You’re right, my dear. Mobilizing my troops would go against His Highness’s orders. But this anger... it must be released, or I will not find peace.”

Anastasia smiled, took his hand, and said softly, ”I know a way to ease it.”

Alvaron was about to ask when Anastasia suddenly tugged him down the right hallway. He didn’t know where she was leading him, but it seemed to be toward their room.

Unbeknownst to them, a little girl peeked around the corner, watching their backs.

”Brother Nolan is still in the eastern region!” she exclaimed excitedly.

The girl was definitely Masha. She had overheard her father’s voice and, curious, had sneaked to eavesdrop. She was surprised to learn that Nolan was still in the east, handling some important matters.

”That’s wonderful!” she said, clapping her hands, her round face lighting up. But moments later, her expression darkened as she whispered, ”I’m so bored in this house. Sister Rafine is going with Princess Elina—it’s so unfair! I wanted to go too, but I wasn’t allowed. But now...”

A mischievous smile spread across her lips. ”Brother Nolan is still in the eastern region. I’ll meet him and ask him to take me to the palace!”

With that, she turned on her small feet and ran off.

...

”So, how do you want to die? I’ll give you two choices—torture or torment.” Nolan’s gaze was playful as he looked down at Rovert, who lay on the ground.

”You...” Rovert growled, furious at the impossible choice.

Both options were the same—Nolan was mocking him. Rage surged through Rovert, but he was powerless to act.

His mana was down to just ten percent. For a mage, that was dangerously low—mages were supposed to maintain at least 25 percent in reserve.

Anything less triggered ”Essence Famine,” or essence starvation.

Mages in this state felt nausea, dizziness, and chest pain. Their bodies weakened, and, worst of all, they could barely move.

This happened because the body strained to produce mana instantly—a process excruciatingly painful and lasting for hours.

By now, Rovert had slipped into this state right before his enemy. It was a nightmare he had never imagined.

Seeing Rovert’s pained expression, Nolan sighed softly, shaking his head.

”I wanted to see the abilities of a Cardinal of the Underworld Gate. But apparently... this is all you’ve got. Honestly, it’s disappointing.”

His words pierced Rovert’s heart like a blade. In the past, he had often hurled such taunts at others. Now, the tables had turned.

The anger that had been simmering at the edge finally erupted.

”Nolan Lorian!”

Boom!

Rovert’s aura exploded outward, tearing through the area within a two-hundred-meter radius. Even some of the mansion’s large buildings crumbled under its force.

A storm erupted, and the domain Rovert had created began to glow with a dark, menacing light.

Rovert, who had been lying on the ground, suddenly stood. His eyes burned red as he drew a small bell from his pocket.

”That bell...” Nolan squinted, alert. ”An artifact?”

Artifacts were incredibly powerful magical weapons, ranked from ordinary, rare, epic, and legendary to mythical.

Each level carried immense power, but the most feared were the mythical artifacts—said to have the ability to alter the order of entire continents.

Judging by the energy emanating from the small bell, it was likely an epic-level artifact.

Rovert shook the bell, producing a subtle, eerie sound.

Ding!

Badump!

Nolan’s heart raced, his eyes widening as he clutched his chest in shock.

”What... what’s happening to me?”

Splurt!

A spurt of blood shot from his mouth, and he hurriedly pressed his hand against it.

”Kyahaha!” Rovert laughed, his voice echoing with madness. ”Nolan Lorian, you think I’m a fool, but the truth is—you’re the fool! This bell is an epic-level artifact called Soul Destroyer. Every time it rings, it damages the soul of whoever hears it. Nine strikes, and death is inevitable!”

Nolan was stunned by Rovert’s words. Before he could react, Rovert swung the bell again.

Ding!

Badump!

”Argh!” Nolan groaned, pain ripping through him.

Blood poured from his mouth, filling the palm he pressed against it.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

Rovert continued to ring the bell, each chime soft, yet it cut into Nolan’s mind like a blade.

Nolan’s body collapsed to the ground, blood streaming from his mouth.

Seeing this, a long-lost joy surged through Rovert.

”Now... let’s finish this, Nolan Lorian...”