Chapter 1

Since then, I’ve tried everything to find out what that soul was, but I haven’t found a single answer.

Why had it tried to possess him? Why him, of all people? How did it carry so many memories?

Even now, he didn’t know.

“Devoting yourself to something that has no immediate answer is a waste.”

In the end, Fernan set aside thoughts of the soul and possession and continued living his life.

After all, time kept moving forward.

“Where’s today’s newspaper?”

Fernan, after finishing his reflections, extended his hand. Hyde placed the newspaper onto it.

“Here you go.”

Fernan opened the newspaper.

[…]

“…”

The moment he saw a particular name printed in the newspaper, a subtle and indescribable emotion flashed in Fernan’s eyes.

“Young master? Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

Though the servant asked about his strange expression, Fernan brushed it off.

‘So he finally showed up.’

The book of prophecy hadn’t revealed everything about the future. Most of it was locked away and, aside from a few fragments, Fernan could only perceive the future to a certain extent.

And among those fragments, the name in the newspaper was the most significant.

“…He actually enrolled.”

He had used it well for business purposes, but deep down he had hoped that part wouldn’t come true.

“Who are you suddenly talking about?”

“Hyde.”

Fernan interrupted Hyde.

“Yes?”

“Do you think there’s a chance I’ll be disowned and end up broke?”

“Where did that come from all of a sudden?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, nothing in this world is certain, so I suppose there’s a slim chance. Like being struck by lightning on a clear day. But from what I’ve seen, I can’t even imagine you losing all your money, young master.”

“Exactly. Neither can I.”

Me? Disowned and reduced to a beggar? There’s no way a future like that exists. Haha.

Crunch!

The newspaper crumpled in Fernan’s grip.

“Young master?”

“That’s what I’m about to find out.”

“Find out what?”

“The southern swamp.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll have to make a quick trip to the southern swamp.”

Fernan got up from his seat and put on his coat.

From the moment he was struck by that lightning, he began counting the days.

‘Most of the prophecies revolve around the Imperial Armian Academy.’

Through that so-called “protagonist” named in the book of prophecies.

He didn’t know why the prophecy took the form of a novel, or why everything revolved around the academy.

“That doesn’t matter.”

Through countless cross-references, Fernan had concluded that the prophecies were at least partially true, but the truly important part was still to come.

The moment the protagonist enrolled, the real story of the prophecy would begin.

And verifying that protagonist was the top priority.

“I’ll go alone. Prepare my horse.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The servant brought out an elegant, gleaming horse. Moments later, Fernan set out onto the main road.

The Imperial Academy was located in Bardian, an island in the Empire’s inland sea, a vast territory in itself.

Its expansive grounds were magically cultivated artificial terrain, and its southern portion was covered by vast marshlands.

As Fernan rode south, fragments of memories began to surface in his mind. Three stories had been etched into his memory more than anything else.

The future where Fernan Pellenberg is disowned.

The future where Fernan Pellenberg falls into ruin.

The future where Fernan Pellenberg becomes a penni—

“No. No, not that one again.”

The future where Fernan Pellenberg becomes poor. The future where the 72 demons summoned by King Colomo a thousand years ago begin to stir again.

And the story of the protagonist of the prophecy. Among them, the third—the protagonist’s story—was what needed to be analyzed right now.

[After finishing the entrance exam, Aint didn’t return immediately, but headed toward the southern wetlands. The reason he came to the academy was to track down the remnants of a map left by the First Emperor.]

“It’s not Armian. The First Emperor… argh.”

As soon as he recalled the contents of the prophecy, a terrible headache nearly made him fall off his horse. He barely managed to stay balanced.

Gripping his throbbing head, he continued his thoughts. The two people mentioned in the prophecy were figures no citizen of the Empire could be unaware of.

The last king of the Kingdom of Armian, the great founding emperor who established the Empire alongside five surrounding kingdoms.

And his descendant, Aint Armian, who had lost all the former glory of the royal house and retained only its honor.

If the prophecy was true, he was the most suitable person to save the world from the demons.

Were the First Emperor’s plans hidden in the academy? No one had discovered them in the past thousand years… Damn it. If I had found them, I could’ve toppled the last pillar supporting the Armian family.

Either way, if the prophecy was true, Aint Armian’s importance would increase immensely.

He wouldn’t just be a remnant of an old royal house, but a dark horse who inherited the First Emperor’s arrangements.

[After gathering enough food and weapons to last a few days, Aint arrived at the edge of the swamp. The first to greet him was Croker, the swamp crocodile. It was an unexpected encounter—he had heard that Croker rarely ventured to the outskirts.]

Damn it. These headaches I get every time I recall a prophecy never let up.

Croker was an apex predator in the swamp. His skin was tough, his teeth strong, and his jaws could crush steel.

A monster difficult even for the most seasoned knights to handle, originally meant for third-year students and up.

It was a mystery why he had come to the outskirts, when he usually resided in the heart of the swamp, but life rarely follows logic.

Just like when I was struck by lightning.

‘If the prophecy is correct, maybe it wasn’t bad luck but destiny.’

According to what passed through his mind, that guy always got caught up in incidents.

But that wasn’t the important part right now.

[Aint had talent, but the swordsmanship of his family had deteriorated and couldn’t bring him to full bloom. Croker was clearly too much for him in his current state.]

[He barely managed to escape, despite his injuries.]

“So far, everything is real.”

Fernan murmured calmly. He wasn’t very surprised; he had already gained some advantages thanks to the prophecy.

Croker had vanished, but traces remained. The stench of monster blood and rot still lingered in the distance.

Splash—

Still, he didn’t feel good.

As each prophecy came true, it meant his own future (ending up poor) drew ever closer.

Aint was badly wounded. He used the potions he’d brought for emergency treatment, but the scent of blood was already attracting monsters.

He ran, though not aimlessly. Even in his condition, he consulted the map.

There was a very small hole marked on the map. There was no trace of magic, and it seemed no human could fit inside.

[He hesitated, but the bloodthirsty lizardmen were already chasing him.]

Don’t hesitate. Dive in.

[Remembering the phrase written at the bottom of the map, he clenched his teeth and threw himself in. And there it was—the dungeon.]

Fernan circled around the lizardmen who were distracted by Croker and followed Aint’s trail.

The escape route was clear, and there were bloodstains scattered along the path.

In the end, he found a hole.

A small tunnel that no human could enter. It looked more like a rabbit hole, but according to the prophecy, it was the dungeon’s entrance.

And beside it—

“…Huh?”

“…Huh?”

He came face to face with Aint, who was clutching a wound on his chest and struggling to reach the hole.

What the hell? Why is this bastard still here?

‘…Shit, did I get here too early?’

That seemed to be the case.

He had been so eager to confirm the protagonist’s identity that he arrived too soon.

Totally unexpected.

Fernan’s plan had only been to follow Aint after he entered the dungeon and confirm the truth. He only knew that Aint would obtain the First Emperor’s inheritance on the day the academy newspaper covering new students was published, but not the exact time.

And that led to the current situation.

He never imagined that Aint wouldn’t even be in the dungeon yet. After thinking for a moment, Fernan decided to act confidently.

“You’re not Aint Armian. The entrance exam should be over. What are you doing here? This place isn’t for you.”

When both parties are caught off guard, the one who strikes first has the advantage.

And judging by Aint’s expression, Fernan’s tactic had worked.

“…You know me?”

“There’s no one in the academy who doesn’t, whether student, professor, or even a first-year who passed the entrance exam. But even if that weren’t the case, you’re too well-known.”

He didn’t flinch under the cold stare.

“…If it’s not rude to ask, who are you?”

“Fernan.”

“Fernan…? Fernan… Pellenberg…?”

“Yes, that’s my full name. Though it seems you’ve omitted the senior title.”

Aint’s eyes widened. He probably never imagined he’d encounter him here. Just as Fernan never imagined meeting Aint like this.

“S-sorry!”

“No need. I don’t care. Just answer my question. The entrance exam should be over. Why are you here? This place isn’t for you.”

“…That.”

“You’re hurt.”

Fernan’s gaze landed on Aint’s shoulder. Blood was seeping from his fractured armor.

“Did the lizardmen do that?”

“…I ran into Croker.”

“Croker was at the entrance? What bad luck! That only happens once or twice a year.”

Pretending to think for a moment, Fernan took a potion from his subspace.

“Take it. It’s a first-class potion.”

“I don’t have the money to buy a potion from Lord Fernan.”

“Do I have to spell it out? Call me senior.”

“…Yes, senior.”

“There’s no need to pay. But it’s not free either. Consider it an investment, Aint Armian.”

“An investment?”

The sudden declaration made Aint blink in surprise. Fernan, watching him, explained nonchalantly.

“Your house may have collapsed, but royalty is royalty, even if it’s ancient. It’s not likely you’ll become a disgraceful man.”

“…”

“Will you take it or not? If you lose much more blood, you’ll be kissing the ground soon.”

“…I’ll repay this debt someday, no matter what.”

Aint accepted the potion and poured it over his wound. His flesh bubbled and quickly regenerated.

Money was truly powerful. If it had been a lower-grade potion, he’d have needed ten bottles.

I won’t ask why you’re here. Everyone has at least one secret.

“…”

“But don’t think you’ll get lucky twice. Go back. This place is still too much for you.”

“Yes. But, Senior Fernan, why are you here alone?”

“I came to gather herbs. There’s a rare and expensive herb that only grows in this region.”

“You gather it yourself?”

“Only a mage can harvest it properly.”

“Ah…”

“See you next time. Now go quickly—it’s dangerous.”

“Thank you for the warning, senior.”

Fernan rode off on his horse.

Once he was out of sight, Aint let out a sigh of relief.

“…That was close.”

To think he’d run into someone right before entering the dungeon.

***

“Fernan Pellenberg.”

The eldest son of House Pellenberg, widely known as a money-hungry demon.

“But he didn’t seem so greedy.”

Rumors were like that—exaggerated, malicious, and crafted to ruin people.

Aint knew all too well what kind of gossip and mockery had surrounded House Armian after they lost the throne.

It had been etched into the family’s bones for generations.

“In any case, I’ll make sure to repay this favor.”

Even if the investment was made in his house and not in him personally, it still felt good.

It meant he had value.

Above all, having his wounds healed before entering an unknown dungeon was no different than having his life saved. Aint checked his surroundings again and then dove into the hole.

He disappeared.

***

“So it really is a dungeon.”

Fernan, who had been hiding his presence, peeked out.

But man, why is he so clueless? He’s nothing like the guy I saw in my dream.

What had happened between then and now for him to change so drastically?

Tsk. Fernan clicked his tongue and shook off the thought, turning his gaze toward the dungeon entrance.

“You drop straight down upon entry.”

[Aint stifled a groan from the impact of the fall. His whole body ached, but he drank all the potions he had left to survive. Even so, his wounds were serious, and the potions were so poor in quality that he didn’t fully recover.]

[He pressed on, enduring the pain.]

After this, Aint would move forward despite his injuries, but now that he had met Fernan, the story would change a bit.

“First-class potion…”

It seemed like a waste, but if the prophecy was true, the investment was worth it.

From the first impression, things had changed. It seemed the first button to change the future had been properly fastened.

A long time passed. When the sun was setting on the horizon, Fernan finally jumped into the hole.

The world flipped upside down without resistance.

“Of course.”

If a dungeon that only responds to royal blood reacts to anyone, that means it has already fulfilled its purpose.

Thud.

Fernan landed softly and looked ahead.

No enemies. No traps. Just a long, straight corridor.

The soft glow of magic lamps illuminated the passage more than expected.

“So many magic lamps and barely a trace of mana left?”

Fernan floated up and examined one of the lamps.

“I’ve never seen a sigil like this before…”

He noticed it subtly absorbed ambient mana. Then he realized—it was a semi-permanent magic lamp.

The finely carved engravings exuded an elegant and ancient aura.

Fernan frowned.

So Aint Armian really is the man from the prophecy? I’m starting to doubt it.

He pulled one of the lamps from its place. But it didn’t stop glowing.

“And the fate of the world is in the hands of some fool who would just leave this behind?”

All that remained in Fernan’s wake was darkness.