Chapter 135

Right after finishing the first-year class, Aint was the first to leave the classroom.

‘Thanks to senior Fernan, I had a good experience.’

It wasn’t necessary to fight directly to gain experience.

Watching a duel between experts was also a great lesson, and especially Alcmion Altrierc’s swordsmanship left a strong impression on him.

‘I had never seen such a technique.’

— It’s the Altrierc family’s secret swordsmanship. It doesn’t aim for precision, finesse, or smoothness, but raw strength and absolute dominance.

— Many call it crude for its simplicity, but that’s exactly what makes it devastating.

‘It sure looked like it.’

None of the first-years could stop his sword.

— Even if you manage to block it, unless you dodge or redirect it perfectly, you’ll still take damage.

That was the effect of its overwhelming destructive power.

‘I definitely want to fight him at least once.’

— It would be a good experience. Especially as training before fighting demons.

The way demons and the Altrierc fought differed greatly, but both had one thing in common—crushing their opponent with sheer force.

In that sense, among humans, no one pursued a style closer to the demons’ than the Altrierc.

‘That’s true too…’

Just then—

“Senior Aint!”

“Timon Baertz?”

“You really know my name?”

It was Timon Baertz.

Aint was surprised. He had been looking for a chance to approach him, but hadn’t expected the other to take the initiative.

— Maybe because he’s a corrupt and wants to size you up?

Maybe. Though again, Aint couldn’t feel any demonic energy from him. [1]

— Say anything. Staying quiet would look weirder.

“You’re the second-ranked in the first year, after all.”

“What an honor! An immense honor!”

‘Hm?’

— That reaction is strange.

Even Aint found it overly exaggerated. Of course, it could just be an act.

According to Gardner, a thousand years ago there were countless demons and corrupts who gained the humans’ trust by acting friendly and flattering.

“There’s no need to exaggerate over something as simple as me knowing your name…”

“Of course there is! It’s a huge honor that the great heir of the Armian knows my name!”

— He’s seeing things through the lens of a thousand years ago. Back then, the Emperor was a hero, and people revered him with devotion.

“…Really?”

“Absolutely!”

Aint hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

He’d never thought of himself that way, so it felt strange.

— Think about it. Reacting with such fervor is like confirming himself as a corrupt.

— A thousand years ago, the Emperor truly annihilated demons and killed that bastard Colomo, so they revered him as a hero. But you, right now, haven’t done anything to warrant that level of devotion.

Yes, he had done things. But not to the degree of deserving that kind of reverence. Gardner was right—it didn’t add up.

Then there was only one explanation left.

— Damn demons. A thousand years have passed and they still think the world is the same.

— That guy is a corrupt, no doubt. Just following an outdated order from a demon.

An approach stuck in the past.

And considering that demons had only just begun reappearing after a millennium, it made sense they didn’t understand the changing times.

Even Gardner had needed time to adapt to the new world after awakening from centuries of sleep.

‘That does make sense.’

— Even better. With such an outdated mindset, he’ll probably accept anything you ask.

So say it straight.

“Your skill is quite good. Interested in having a duel with me?”

“A duel? With… with me, senior?”

“Yes.”

Aint nodded slowly, carefully watching Timon’s reaction.

Dilated pupils, slightly open mouth, face flushed with excitement.

“I accept! Gladly!”

And immediately, his rapid nods and feverish enthusiasm confirmed something was wrong.

‘Gardner was right.’

After all, Aint had defeated Andromalius far from witnesses, and in that victory, Fernan and Luina had played more decisive roles.

No rumors had spread of his other fights, aside from the incident at the Continental Academic Conference.

So there was no reason Timon should idolize him so passionately—unless he was a corrupt following an outdated order.

“What an honor! I can’t believe I have the chance to cross swords with you, senior Aint!”

— He just sang like a canary!

‘So what do I do now?’

— Knock him halfway out. Leave him unconscious. We already know he’s a corrupt; all that’s left is final confirmation.

— So knock him out—safely.

‘Got it.’

“Then, shall we head to the duel grounds?”

“Yes, of course!”

Aint headed toward the practice field with Timon.

***

‘Oh my god…! Our eyes met!’

Their eyes met. Timon Baertz barely managed to keep his expression from collapsing.

‘Senior Aint looked at me…!’

Questions like ‘how did a second-year get into a first-year duel class?’ or ‘why is he watching first-year duels?’ only flickered through his mind for an instant.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was that he had seen Aint, they had made eye contact, and now he had a chance to show his skills in front of him.

‘Was he disappointed? I should’ve finished it more impressively…!’

Luckily, he had managed to win.

‘What will senior think of me…? The hero of the Armian is my senior! Thank goodness I entered the Academy…!’

When he was a child, Timon had come across the book The Great Biography of the First Emperor by chance.

From then on, he was fascinated by the just knighthood and greatness of the First Emperor.

The emperor who annihilated demons.

The knights who rode alongside him across the continent.

That book became his ideal, the guide for his path.

To become a knight. To be like them.

That was how he picked up a weapon.

But as he grew older, he came face to face with two harsh realities.

First, the Armian house had fallen.

Second, the demons no longer existed.

‘…The demons were exterminated by the First Emperor a thousand years ago, and the Armian, after losing the throne…’

Were left nearly destroyed.

The disappointment he felt back then was indescribable.

But everything suddenly changed.

【After a long silence, the Armian return to the world—Aint Armian, admitted to the Academy. Rank: 38th!】

Even though that 38th place was disappointing, it meant the Armian had finally awakened from their silence.

【The corrupt attack the Continental Academic Conference!】

It was as if the corrupt had been waiting—they began stirring the world.

‘No, I had it backwards.’

It wasn’t that the demons appeared after Aint Armian returned.

It was that Aint appeared because it was already known the demons would return.

To save the world from them.

Timon’s heart pounded when he realized that truth.

And the news that that very Aint, who had entered ranked 38th, had soon become first of his class, excited him even more.

Timon began to imagine himself riding alongside Aint, cutting down demons together, like in the tales of the First Emperor.

The flame that had nearly gone out reignited stronger than ever.

That’s how he entered the Academy.

Perhaps he would have done so anyway, even if Aint didn’t exist, but in the end, it was because of him.

‘But I never thought I’d see him so soon! And that he’d come to observe our duels!’

They had locked eyes. Maybe he hadn’t come specifically for him, but he was sure he had at least piqued his interest.

‘Even if I lost to that muscle brute Altrierc, I’m still second in the year!’

When class ended, Timon silently followed Aint out of the classroom.

He didn’t know why. He just wanted to talk to him.

Others might think differently, but to him, Aint Armian was his ideal.

He ran until he caught up.

“Senior Aint!”

Aint stopped.

“Timon Baertz?”

“You really know my name?”

“You’re the second-ranked in first year, right?”

“What an honor! An immense honor!”

He couldn’t believe it! He knew his name! He felt as if light was shining on him from behind.

The problem was he hadn’t thought about what to do next.

“It’s not that big a deal. I just know your name…”

“Of course it is! It’s an immense honor that the great heir of the Armians knows my name!”

Aint hesitated a second, glanced aside, and replied:

“Oh, really?”

“Absolutely!”

Timon nodded eagerly.

To him, the Armians were heroes, and he wanted Aint to recognize his worth.

“Your skill is quite good. Want to have a duel with me?”

The unexpected proposal left him breathless.

“A duel? Me, with you, senior?”

Timon froze for a second.

A duel? With Aint Armian?

Really?

“Yes.”

Aint’s nod was like a fireball straight to Timon’s heart.

His heart was racing, and his breath grew ragged.

A duel… with senior Aint?

With that hero?

“I accept!”

There was no reason to refuse. On the contrary, he’d have begged on his knees if he had to.

“What an honor! To be able to cross swords with you, senior Aint!”

Just in case he changed his mind, he reaffirmed it.

Fortunately, Aint didn’t take it back. Just like a true hero.

“Shall we go to the duel grounds?”

“Yes, of course!”

They walked together to the arena.

Timon tried to calm his racing heart.

‘This is a test.’

A test to see if he was destined to fight alongside a hero, to be part of a great epic.

‘I must give it my all to earn his attention.’

He steeled his resolve. Even if he used all his strength, he believed Aint would be able to handle it.

And that belief was confirmed when—

“…Huh?”

In barely ten exchanges, his sword went flying.

“He’s incredibly strong!”

He was different from Alcmion. Faster, more precise, with better combinations.

‘Yes, this is how a hero’s sword should be!’

Nothing like Alcmion’s brute strength. Aint’s sword radiated elegance and nobility.

The only regret was having lost his sword in so few exchanges.

Frustration welled up—what if he wasn’t worthy of standing beside him?

“Senior, would you allow me to try again?”

“Of course.”

Luckily, Aint gave him another chance.

His generosity was just as described in The Great Biography of the First Emperor.

Timon picked up his sword and fought again, this time with full strength from the start.

─!

But the result didn’t change—he lost his weapon again.

The only consolation was having lasted a bit longer.

‘I’m a frog in a well!’

He thought he was on the same level, but the gap was immense.

“I lost… Next time, for sure…”

“No, you didn’t lose.”

“Huh?”

“Pick up your sword.”

“…What?”

Only then did he notice something was wrong.

“Come on, Timon. You said you wanted a duel, didn’t you?”

“B-but the match already…”

“It’s not over till it’s over.”

“But I already…”

Aint’s aura surged into his sword, and Timon, terrified, had to pick up his own again.

───!

And he lost it again.

“Pick it up.”

He picked it up.

“S-senior… please…!”

“Raise your sword.”

──!

“Raise it.”

─!

“Sword.”

After nearly ten more exchanges, Timon’s energy was depleted.

Every muscle screamed in pain, and internal injuries left him drained.

Plop—

“Po… wer… f…”

In the darkness that enveloped him, he heard the senior’s voice.

There was no one else in the arena, so who was he talking to?

He felt a warm aura enter his body.

Could the senior be…?

— He says… there is no…

‘No, impossible. He wouldn’t do that. It’s just my imagination, from the state I’m in.’

The pain wracking his body was unbearable.

And the energy he felt had already vanished.

He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of his own delusion.

— He’s… smiling.

With those words, Timon’s vision went completely dark.

T/N:

(1): Instead of “corrupt magic” I used “demonic energy,” though I’m still not sure whether to keep this term. It may vary in the future.