The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire-Chapter 209: The Prince!!!

A few days ago, Star Harbor Port was wrapped in the soft chaos of travelers and gull cries, the sea breathing slowly against steel and concrete.

Miles stepped onto the tourist ship with unhurried confidence. The deck vibrated faintly beneath his boots. June followed closely behind him, her expression professional yet curious, while two men pushed a cart carrying two large sealed boxes, their wheels squeaking softly as they moved.

The captain emerged from the bridge, removing his hat with a respectful nod.

"Mr. Sterling, welcome to my ship. She is waiting for you in the next room."

Miles returned the nod lightly.

"Thank you, Captain."

He walked forward with June, the doors closing behind them, leaving the two men outside. Inside the private room, the atmosphere shifted instantly. It was quiet, heavy with anticipation.

An old lady stood at the center, her back straight despite her age. Two guards flanked her, silent and still like statues carved from stone.

The moment her eyes met Miles, she moved.

She went down on her knees.

Her two guards followed her instantly.

"Greetings, Prince."

Miles froze for half a second before rushing forward. He grasped her arms gently but firmly and lifted her back up.

"Chief Zella, you do not have to do this. No one needs to kneel before me."

Zella smiled, warmth spreading across her wrinkled face, eyes filled with something deeper than respect.

"You look more grown up since the last time I saw you in the forest."

Miles exhaled softly, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Well, I am really grown up now, Chief Zella."

She gestured toward the couches.

"Have a seat, Prince."

Miles shook his head lightly.

"We are sitting together."

Zella’s smile widened.

Everyone settled onto the couches, the guards standing a short distance away. The hum of the ship’s engines filled the silence like a distant heartbeat.

Zella studied him carefully, as if measuring time itself on his face.

"I think you understand things now, my Prince."

Miles leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

"Chief, I understand many things now. But there is one question that has stayed with me all these years. Why did you never tell me about my bloodline? You kept calling me Prince, and I kept assuming it was a misunderstanding."

Zella chuckled softly, a sound filled with memory.

"We all knew you were pretending. But we also knew you were truly our Prince. We knew because your grandfather told us that one day you would come. And when that day came, it would be our duty to guide you."

Miles’ eyes sharpened instantly.

"Did he contact you after that?"

Zella’s expression softened, her gaze lowering for a moment.

"If he had been able to contact us again, he would never have left his grandchild in hell. We do not know what happened to him. We do not know where he is now. But before he vanished, he entrusted the our tribe with a duty. And we are bound to finish it."

Miles sat back slowly, the weight of her words settling deep in his chest.

"So what is the relation between the Sterlings and the tribe?"

Zella rose to her feet, her presence suddenly commanding, ancient strength flowing through her posture.

"It is a long story."

She looked at Miles, her eyes steady and unwavering.

"And it is time you finally know it."

.....

It is a century old story, whispered through stone halls and forgotten pages, a story that time itself tried to bury but never truly erased.

It is the story of a prince.

Prince Oswin Sterling, the only heir of the great Sterling Empire.

From the moment he was born, the empire watched him with hope and fear intertwined. He was not a fragile royal raised behind silk curtains. Oswin grew with discipline carved into his bones. He studied history until dawn, trained his body until it broke and rose stronger, and learned strategy not as theory but as instinct. Wisdom shaped his mind, strength hardened his spirit, and responsibility weighed on his shoulders long before a crown ever touched his head.

One day, Oswin announced a decision that shook the entire empire.

He would conquer the Forest of Death.

The Forest of Death was not a myth. It was a land cursed by reputation and blood. Even the most renowned hunters of the kingdom refused to enter it. Those who tried never returned. The trees were said to drink fear, the shadows to move on their own, and the ground itself to swallow the unworthy.

Panic spread across the empire.

Officials begged the court to stop him. Nobles whispered of rebellion against such madness. Common people prayed for the prince’s safety, fearing they would lose the future of the empire in one reckless journey.

At last, King Sterling summoned Oswin to the grand assembly.

Silence filled the hall as the king rose from his throne.

Then he spoke words that stunned everyone.

"Son, you are the blood of the great Sterling Empire. Since childhood, you have shaped yourself into someone worthy of this throne. You carry wisdom beyond your years and strength beyond measure. Sending you into the Forest of Death may be the gravest mistake this empire could make. Yet still, I command you to go. Go and prove to the world what Sterling truly is. Conquer the Forest of Death, and if you return victorious, this throne shall be yours."

Fear turned into disbelief.

From that day, the empire lived with a constant dread. Mothers prayed at dawn. Soldiers sharpened their blades in silence. Songs were sung not of glory, but of hope for the prince’s return.

Oswin entered the forest with his cavalry soon after.

They were warriors ready to die for their prince, men who pledged their lives without hesitation. Yet Oswin did not see them as shields. To him, they were his responsibility. Not as a prince, but as a future king.

The forest tested them relentlessly.

Poisoned air. Beasts that hunted in silence. Nights that felt endless. Blood stained the ground. Injuries piled upon exhaustion. Each step forward demanded sacrifice. Many times, retreat seemed wiser. Yet Oswin pressed on, carrying the wounded, sharing rations, standing guard when others collapsed.

After countless trials, they reached the very core of the forest.

There, they found something none of them could believe.

People lived within the Forest of Death.

A tribe untouched by the outside world, fierce and resilient. They called themselves the Half Moon Tribe.

Instead of hostility, the tribe welcomed them.

The wounded were treated. The exhausted were fed. Days turned into nights of healing and quiet understanding. The tribe believed that any who could survive the forest were equals to them in strength and spirit. Respect was not given lightly, yet Oswin earned it without demanding it.

And then, fate intervened.

Oswin saw her.

The young maiden of the Half Moon Tribe, her presence calm yet powerful, her beauty unshaped by vanity or courtly artifice. To Oswin, she was unlike anyone he had ever known. In her eyes lived freedom, resilience, and a deep connection to the land itself.

He fell in love.

Without hesitation, Oswin presented his proposal to the tribe chief.

In the very next moment, celebration erupted.

When Oswin returned to the Sterling Empire, the land rejoiced. Bells rang across cities. Banners filled the skies. The king hosted a grand wedding that united the empire and forest, crown and tribe.

That day, Oswin Sterling ascended the throne.

As his first decree as king, he renamed the Forest of Death.

From that moment on, it was known as the Sylven Forest.

.....

Present- Fisherman village

Elias narrowed his eyes, watching the calm expression on Miles’s face as the river lights flickered behind him.

"You mean to say you really brought only one person."

Miles did not flinch. His voice remained steady, almost casual.

"Yes. I have already spent enough resources on security clearances, boats, permissions, and silence. Why would I waste more by bringing men who will only slow things down."

Elias let out a slow breath, irritation creeping into his posture.

Artem crossed his arms, scanning the gathered boats.

"So from where do we leave?"

Miles turned his head slightly toward him, a faint smile forming.

"Don’t you know, Artem? I thought your father would have shared a few tips."

Basil frowned instantly. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"What does that mean?"

Miles tilted his head as if genuinely surprised.

"You didn’t tell them, Artem?"

Artem’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Elias’s patience snapped.

"What is he talking about, Artem?"

Miles answered before Artem could gather himself.

"Nothing too serious. Years ago, Artem’s father funded a mining and exploration project right here. It was cancelled after the Sylven floods and the regional protests. I heard he voluntarily pulled out."

Elias let out a short laugh, sharp and mocking.

"So that’s why you are here, Artem. Trying to claim something your father couldn’t. You should have told us earlier. Even I am here for the same reason. At least your father will be proud. Unlike mine, who drowned chasing myths."

Artem clenched his jaw but said nothing.

The tribe man stepped forward, his voice deep and firm.

"This changes nothing. Our goals remain the same. Treasure hunters move as one. That is how it has always been."

Elias nodded and looked straight at Miles.

"What were you thinking, Miles? Trying to divide us? You should know treasure hunters do not betray each other."

Miles slowly turned his gaze toward Hilda.

He smiled.

Hilda immediately looked away, her fingers tightening around her gloves.

Miles then shifted his attention to the tribe man from Africa.

"Kaelo, was it. Yes, I know. A few days ago, some people came to my city trying to claim the key for themselves. El Puño Cartel. They were treasure hunters too, right."

The air changed.

Expressions stiffened. Eyes shifted. Silence thickened.

Miles shrugged lightly.

"Anyway, we are leaving now. Start boarding your boats."

Elias exhaled through his nose.

"Let’s move."

The crowd broke apart.

Men began climbing into boats. Supplies were loaded. Engines were checked. At least twenty five boats lined the river like dark shadows waiting to move.

Maddox stepped onto one of the boats, inspecting ropes and fuel with sharp eyes.

Miles walked toward the edge of the village.

The fisherman village chief approached him, placing a hand over his chest.

"Prince, thank you for everything."

Miles bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you, Chief."

The old man’s eyes shone with pride.

"You are our prince. It is our duty. Go. Conquer the forest once more."

Miles straightened.

"Thank you."

As he turned back, someone brushed past his shoulder with deliberate force and continued walking without a word.

Miles stopped.

He turned around.

On the ground near his feet lay a folded piece of paper.

He picked it up and unfolded it slowly.

The words were written clean and confident.

"Let’s get started- Veronika."

Miles smirked, the river reflecting something far darker in his eyes.

The hunt had begun.