A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! — Chapter 125

Chapter 125

Everyone agreed with Fernan’s opinion the egg‍ had to be‍‍ destroyed.

“Damn‍‍ it, what is‍ this?”

“It’s‍ not working…!”

“Haa,‌‌ haa…!”

But no one could‌ break it.

Was⁠ it because of‌‍⁠ exhaustion?

Not⁠⁠‍ even the aura⁠ of the captain⁠‍ of the White⁠‌ Lions, which until now had cut‍ down any creature‌ with a single‍ blow, nor Luina’s, future Royal Knight,‍ managed more than‌ a small scratch.‍⁠‍

Ssshh—‍‍

Even‍ when pouring holy‍ water, the result‍ was the same.⁠ The miasma reacted‌ violently, but nothing⁠ more.

The⁠ egg offered no resistance, but it‌ wouldn’t break either.‌‍

And‌ still, they couldn’t⁠ just leave it⁠‌‍ there.

“Then,‍ we’ll take it‌ with us.”

“…What?‌ What are you‍ saying?”

“The‌‍ egg won’t break,⁠ but those veins⁠⁠ connecting it to‍ the ground can‌‌‌ be cut.”

Several‍ had already been‌ sliced by the⁠ knights’ aura.

“And⁠ then we take⁠⁠ it. We take‍‌ it to someone‍‍‌ who can destroy‍ it.”

“Are you talking about‍‍ His Grace?”

“For now, yes, but⁠ if my intuition⁠‍ is right, not‍ even he will‌ be able to.⁠ However, there’s someone‌‌⁠ more suitable.”

“Who…?”⁠

“Ah…!”‍

Luina, realizing it, let‍⁠ out a gasp.‍‍

Yes,⁠⁠ there was no‍ need to rack⁠ their brains. They‍ already had someone.‌

“Aint‍ Armian.”

The‍‍ natural enemy of‌⁠‌ demons.

***‌‌

Transporting‌‌ an egg that‌⁠ served as a vessel to summon‌⁠ Decarabia was no⁠‍ easy feat.

It‌⁠ stood nearly three‌ meters tall, had‌‌‍ a monstrous shape,⁠ and was incredibly‍ heavy.

“…It⁠ absorbs mana.”

“Fucking⁠‍‌ thing.”

The‌‌ knights could lift‍ it, but as‍ soon as their‍‍ skin touched it, the egg began⁠⁠ draining their aura‍ and mana.

It⁠ was such a sinister signal that⁠‍ anyone would understand‍‌ they couldn’t let⁠ the egg get‍‌‌ its way.

“Doesn’t⁠ look like we‍ can carry it⁠⁠ like this.”

“I’ll‌ do it.”

“What‍⁠‍ did you say,‍‍ sir?”

Fernan‍ cast a spell.‌‍‌

The‍ sand rose, compacting⁠‌ to support the‌⁠ egg, which slowly‌ began to lift.‌‍

‘…It’s⁠‌ draining mana from⁠‌ the sand.’

It‍‍ wasn’t just heavy,‌ it also absorbed‌ part of the‌⁠ magical energy.

Still,⁠‌ it wasn’t unmanageable.‌⁠

“Are⁠ you sure you‍⁠ can?”

“For‌ now, the best⁠⁠ thing is to‌⁠ get it out‌ of here.”

As long as the‌‍ blocked mana flow‌‍ from the corrupted‍⁠‍ ground didn’t interfere.‌‍

They‍ arrived at the place where they‌‍‍ had first fallen.⁠‌

“Let’s⁠⁠ go up.”

Rumble—⁠‍‌

The‍ ground beneath their feet rose vertically.‌

In‍⁠ the sky, the‍‌‍ moon shone instead‍⁠‌ of the sun,‍ and the snow‌‌ was still falling.‍‍ The original terrain⁠ had vanished with‍‌ the collapse.

“Oh…!”⁠‍‌

“Two‌ horses!”

Not‌ everything was bad—luckily,‌ two warhorses had‍ survived outside the⁠⁠ collapsed area. Well-trained,‍ they had stayed nearby, waiting for‍ their riders.

The‌‍ knights recovered them.‍‌

“But transporting an egg‍‌ like this will‌‌ be a problem…”⁠⁠

The‌ egg was far⁠ too big to‌‌ load onto the‍⁠‍ horses.

They‍ had no ropes,‌ and what’s more,‌ the egg’s contact⁠‍ contaminated the ground⁠ it touched.

“I‍‍‍ have a cart.”⁠

“…You⁠⁠ also carry a cart in your‍ subspace?”

“You⁠‍ never know what‌‌‌ might happen. Always‌ good to have‍ one.”

Indeed,‌⁠ that was the‌ case. Thanks to it, they could‌‌ transport it more‍‍⁠ easily.

“Well,‍ that’s true… but…”⁠⁠‍

The⁠⁠‍ captain looked at⁠‌‍ him incredulously.

“How‌‌ much space do‌ you have in‍‍ your subspace…?”

Subspace was high-level magic,⁠ difficult to cast‍ and expensive even‍‌‍ in artifact form.‌‍⁠

“I’ll just say that‌‌ even my father’s‍ is smaller than‍⁠ mine.”

And then Fernan really‌‍⁠ pulled out a cart large enough to hold the⁠ egg.

“…You‍⁠ always carry this? Why?”

“When‌‍ you find a mine or a rare elixir, you⁠‍ need a vehicle‍‌⁠ to transport it.”

“Ah.”‌‍‌

Luina‌ nodded, convinced—it was‌ a very “Fernan”‍‍ answer.

“But⁠ will it hold⁠‍‌ up? That egg‌ could rot the⁠ cart in seconds…”⁠⁠

The cart was reinforced‌⁠ with magic, but the egg, as a catalyst for⁠‍ a demon, emanated a miasma that‍ would destroy it‌ sooner or later.⁠‍

“The⁠ thing is, I have five carts.”‍‌

“…Five?”⁠⁠

“And,‍‍ besides, I have‍⁠‌ a plan.”

Fernan raised sand over⁠‍‍ the cart and‍⁠‌ mixed it with‌‍⁠ holy water.

Then‌‌‍ he placed the‌‍ egg on top.‍

Ssshhh—‌‍⁠

There‌⁠⁠ was a violent reaction and smoke,‌ but—

“It‌ works!”

At⁠‌ least, as long⁠⁠ as there was⁠⁠ holy water left,⁠ the miasma wouldn’t‍ corrupt the cart.‍‌

The‍‍ problem was the⁠‌‌ contact area dried out little by‍ little.

“We’d‌⁠ best leave immediately.”‍‌

“Yes, but… do we have enough holy‌ water?”

“Not‍⁠ much.”

Every‌ second counted.

‘If⁠‍ I had known‍⁠ this, I would’ve‍‍ bought all I could.’

Who⁠ would have imagined‍ that a product⁠ from those frauds⁠ in the Cult‌ of the Dragon‌ God would work so well?

Fernan‌‌ pulled out the‌‌‍ few remaining bottles‍‌ and, in passing,‍ handed out cigarettes⁠‌ to the knights.‌⁠

Even‍‍ to the horses.

“…Even horses can use‌‌ them?”

“They’re‌ magical stimulants. Any⁠‍ living being can‌ use them.”

“…This‍ is madness.”

“They‌ can force an⁠ archmage to awaken.‍ Yes, it’s strong.”

The‍‌ cart began to‌ move.

***⁠‍

On‌ the other hand,‌‌ just as Fernan,⁠‌ Luina, and the⁠‍ White Lion knights‌‍ were beginning their return, House Bercheff‌⁠ was in chaos.‍

“They‌ still haven’t returned.⁠ We sent out‍⁠ a scouting group⁠⁠‌ and found tracks⁠‌ leading north.”

The‌‍ margrave suppressed a growl upon hearing the knight’s report.‌

Usually,⁠ a dawn patrol‌ lasted half a day, maybe a bit more. It was meant to‌⁠ check for new‌ monsters nearby or⁠‌ if existing nests⁠ were still active;‍⁠‍ it wasn’t meant⁠‌‌ to cover the‌ entire north.

So‍⁠‍ then, why?

The⁠⁠ White Lions had⁠ departed at dawn,‌ and now it‍ was full night and they still⁠⁠ hadn’t returned.

‘Could‌‍ they have gotten‍‍⁠ lost…?’

Impossible.‌ These weren’t just anyone—they were Bercheff’s‍ strongest, veterans who⁠ had traversed the⁠ snowy northern plains‌‌ more than anyone.‌

Something⁠‍ had happened. Something‍ big enough to‍‍‌ delay even the‍⁠ White Lions and‌ Luina.

‘Did‌ they really run‍⁠ into demons? It’s‌‍ not like they⁠‍ reached the Demonic‍⁠ Realm…’

If‍ the White Lions⁠‍ were in danger,‌‌‍ who should he⁠‌ send to rescue⁠ them?

The margrave’s eyes darkened.‍

“I’ll⁠‌ go myself.”

The‌‌⁠ scarred man standing‌⁠ before him spoke‌ calmly.

“Don’t⁠ eavesdrop on private‌⁠ conversations.”

“If⁠‌ you’re whispering in⁠ front of me,‍ I assumed it‌ was so I’d‌‍ hear.”

The‍⁠ margrave scolded him,⁠ but the man‍⁠ replied without a care. He didn’t⁠ press further.

“You want to go?”‍‌

“If⁠‌ the client dies,‌‌ I don’t get‌ paid.”

The⁠‌ man stood up.‌

“I‍‍ haven’t given you‍‍‌ permission.”

“I‌⁠⁠ don’t need your‍‌‌ permission. You’re not‍‍ my client.”

He‍ obeyed no one‍⁠ but his contractor.‌⁠

“Just‌⁠ don’t get in‌ my way.”

“You’re⁠⁠‍ as insolent as‍‍ ever.”

“That’s⁠ why I’m a mercenary.”

“As‍‌ far as I know, you haven’t⁠‌ signed a contract yet.”

“Just⁠‍ a matter of time.”

After‍ that exchange, the⁠⁠‍ man turned. But‍ before he could‌⁠‌ reach the door, another knight entered.‌

“My⁠‍ lord! We’ve located⁠ them!”

It⁠‍ was a report‌ that the White⁠‍ Lions had survived.⁠‌‍

“We found them 30‌⁠ meters north of‌‍ refuge number 15.‍ They’re returning to‍ the estate, no⁠⁠ casualties. Everyone’s safe.”‍

“…Looks⁠⁠ like I don’t need to go⁠⁠ after all.”

The‌ man sat back‌⁠ down.

“But‍⁠‍ there’s more…”

The report that followed left both of‍‌ them speechless.

***⁠‍

“…..”‌⁠

“A‍ crazy bastard with⁠ guts.”

That’s‌ how Garrett Schreiner, known as the⁠ King of Mercenaries,‍ described Fernan Pellenberg.⁠‌

‘I‍ told him not to get in‌‌ my way.’

Yet⁠‍ he had the‌‌ nerve to send‌ his servants to‍ make him a request.

At⁠‍ first, he considered⁠⁠ rejecting it.

Though‌‍‌ his disciple hadn’t‍ died, he’d come⁠⁠ close—and Fernan Pellenberg‍‌‍ was to blame.⁠

No⁠‌ amount of money‍‍⁠ could make him‍‍ want to accept.

“My⁠ lord has found⁠⁠ a lead—not just⁠⁠ corrupts, but a demon.”

If‌‍‌ not for that⁠ daring line from‌ the servant, he‌ would’ve kicked him‌ out.

“A‍‍ demon? Hah, interesting.‍ You’ve piqued my‍ interest. But if‍ this story’s just‌ a bluff, you’ll pay dearly for wasting my time.”‍‍

“Without‌⁠ a doubt.”

“You‍‌ think the name‍ Pellenberg will save‌‍‍ you?”

But⁠‌ the servant wasn’t‌ relying on the name.

He had proof.

“…Andromalius.”‌‌

A record showing how⁠ the 72nd demon,⁠ Andromalius, had been⁠ summoned and defeated.‍‍

Garrett‌ had no choice‌⁠ but to admit⁠⁠⁠ it—Fernan was closer to the demons⁠ than anyone else.‌‌⁠

That’s⁠ why he marched‍ with his mercenary company, following that‍‌ Hyde fellow.

Collaborating‌‍ with the Count of Bercheff was⁠⁠ just a side‍‌ detail. As a mercenary, Garrett always⁠‍‌ prioritized profit over⁠‌ honor.

He⁠⁠ wanted revenge, but‍⁠‍ not death; the more power they⁠ gathered against the demons, the better.⁠

Tolerating‌‌ political friction was‍ worth it for‍⁠⁠ victory.

What‍ he didn’t expect‍ was this.

“…An‌‌ egg?”

Not‌‍ in his wildest⁠ dreams did he‍‌‍ imagine starting with‍ a discovery like⁠ this.

The‌ 32 patrol members⁠ returned exhausted but‍ with an enormous⁠ prize—a monstrous egg⁠⁠ nearly three meters tall, covered in⁠⁠⁠ grotesque veins, emanating⁠ a miasma far⁠ beyond any mere⁠‍‌ creature.

“Fernan‌ Pellenberg. Now I understand why you‍‌⁠ broke your word⁠ and came looking‍ for me.”

Garrett⁠⁠ was convinced that‌‌⁠ egg was directly connected to the⁠⁠ demons.

“Lord⁠ Garrett, does your‌‌ presence here mean‍ you accept my‌ request?”

“Do I need to‍ say it?”

“Thank‌ you.”

Fernan,⁠ exhausted, bowed in‍‍ respect.

Garrett⁠ patted him on the shoulder and⁠‌ approached the egg. Or rather, tried‍ to, until Fernan‍‍‌ spoke.

“This‍ egg…”

“First,⁠ we sign the‌‌ contract.”

Garrett⁠‌ stopped cold at⁠ Fernan’s hesitant tone.‍‌

“I‌ demand fair pay,‍ with hazard bonus.‌ Your father must’ve told you my⁠ rate.”

“Of course. But the⁠ situation has changed,‍ wouldn’t you agree?”⁠‍

A brazen response.

“Changed?”⁠⁠

“I⁠⁠ know what you⁠⁠‍ want. And I’ve⁠ brought you what‍ you want most.”‌‌‍

So…

“We’ll⁠ have to recalculate.”‍

“And‍‍‌ if I refuse?”‍⁠‌

“Then,‍‍ no deal.”

Garrett⁠ let out a dry laugh.

“You’re‍‌ saying you want‍⁠ to haggle with‌ me?”

Since‍ becoming King of‍ Mercenaries, no one had ever dared‌‌ such insolence.

***⁠‌

The sky was covered‍‌‍ in black clouds.‍‌‍

Snow‌‌ fell like volcanic‌‍ ash, darkening everything.⁠‍

The⁠ air reeked of‍ doom.

Grrr—‌

The⁠ land was dead;‍⁠ there were no‍⁠ animals or plants‍‌⁠ left—only demons and‍⁠ corrupts, roaming as‍⁠ if in their‌‍⁠ natural cradle.

There⁠‌ were so many that anyone would⁠ believe they were‍ in hell itself.‍

Piiiii—‍‍

A monstrous bird flew across the sky, cutting through the‍ creature swarm to‌⁠ reach the heart‍‍ of the territory.‍ There stood a grotesque structure, unnatural⁠ in this world.‍

The‍ bird landed at‍‌ the entrance and⁠ let out a screech.

Piiiik—⁠⁠

It‌‌⁠ wasn’t a normal⁠‍ cry—it was a report.

Creak—‍‌‌

The‍ door opened, and‍‌ out stepped a man nearly two meters tall, his‍‌‌ skin as black‍‌ as night.

“…The‍ humans took Decarabia’s‌ egg?”

His‌ voice was like⁠ metal scraping metal—deep⁠‌ and instinctively terrifying.⁠

“The‍‍ effort to hasten‍ his descent turned⁠ into a mistake…⁠‌⁠ amusing, very amusing.”‌⁠

The‌‍⁠ man laughed, and the miasma echoed his laughter with‌‍ a shockwave that‍‌ burst several nearby⁠‍ demons.

But‍ the laughter vanished as quickly as‍‍‌ it came. With⁠‌⁠ a blank face,‍‍ he declared.

“Decarabia’s egg is unbreakable‌ by humans. Not‍⁠‌ even a Royal‌⁠‍ Knight or Archmage‌ could destroy it,‌‍ unless they spent‌⁠ centuries studying it.”‌

That‌⁠ was the only‍‍ strength of that⁠ loathsome being.

And‌⁠ yet, “absolute” didn’t‌‌ exist: in a distant past, a human had managed⁠ to destroy one‌ of Decarabia’s eggs.⁠

A black armor made‍ of miasma enveloped⁠ his body.

“Awaken⁠ all the corrupts.”‌‌

Hiiiii—‍‍

A shadowy horse emerged‌‍‍ like smoke to⁠‍ bear him.

“We⁠‌ march.”

And⁠ the sleeping demons‌ began to awaken.⁠