Chapter 142

“I offered the demon’s flesh! You should believe me! Where have you ever seen a corrupt sacrificing a demon’s flesh?”

Abel Kalens’ face turned red, unable to contain his fury.

“He’s standing right in front of me.”

With no intention of hiding anymore, a wave of demonic energy began to leak out.

“Do you know how much mental preparation it took to bury that there?”

“Should I care?”

“Of course, you should! Fernan Pellenberg, you have no idea how many plans were ruined because of you.”

Abel growled in a low voice.

“According to the plan, the Academy was supposed to be reduced to rubble. The continental academic conference was to be destroyed, isolating Vienderk, and the northern legions were supposed to grow even stronger.”

That way, the continent would fall into chaos. In the meantime, the corrupt would rule, and demons would be summoned one after another, turning the world into a new hell.

“Thanks for the compliment. Sounds like I’ve done a good job.”

“Yes, too good for a mere human. Do you know how shocked I was? You, who were supposed to fail and drag Pellenberg into ruin, are now standing beside Aint as his ally!”

Fernan gave a twisted smile.

So that was it. The cursed plans of the corrupt had tormented him for so long that just thinking about them made his teeth grind. But it didn’t matter anymore. The future had changed for the better, and now he could see with his own eyes how the corrupt were crumbling.

Most importantly, Abel had confessed in front of Aint that it was all the work of the corrupt.

That alone made any chance of becoming enemies with Aint practically zero.

“So I infiltrated to observe you…”

“For that, your plan was far too sloppy.”

Surprisingly, Abel nodded without hesitation.

“My mistake. I admit it. I was so focused on watching Aint Armian that when you suddenly appeared, I panicked.”

That’s why the plan had been so poorly executed.

“No, not really.”

Suddenly, the anger vanished from his face as if it had been fake. Abel doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach.

“Surprise! This was all part of my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yes. The plan. I convinced myself that you were the one to watch, not Aint. That’s enough.”

The eye had been a costly sacrifice, but in exchange, he had confirmed what he needed.

“For that, what you offered was too much. Don’t pretend it didn’t hurt to lose it.”

He should’ve suspected Fernan much earlier. Fernan had faced the corrupt alongside Aint several times. Pretending not to have noticed was absurd.

“What’s your real goal?”

“And you think I’ll tell you? Besides, of course it hurts, damn it! I offered something like that and you still don’t trust me, you damned skeptic!”

With a face twisted like a demon’s, Abel raised a book in one hand and a staff in the other. Blades of wind shot toward Fernan, but a solid wall intercepted them.

Clang, clang, clang!

The wind couldn’t get past Aint’s sword.

“Damn Armian blood!”

“The damned ones are you, disgusting corrupt who sold out humanity.”

Aint stepped forward in a single motion, and his sword was already aimed at Abel’s chest.

“Urgh!”

The staff intercepted the thrust, and a shield surrounded Abel.

Crash!

But it shattered easily. The staff flew out of his hand, and Aint’s sword nearly pierced through him. Abel barely managed to turn and take the blow in the shoulder instead of the heart.

“Argh…! Damn Armian power!”

He gripped the blade with both hands. Sparks and smoke erupted from the clash between holy light and demonic energy. It lasted only a moment—but the winner was Aint.

Abel screamed and staggered back.

“This is cheating! How can you grow so fast?”

“That’s the power of money, you stupid corrupt.”

“Shut up! What worth is a shiny piece of metal?”

“It’s everything.”

“Shut up!”

A demonic wave exploded, trying to engulf Fernan, but Aint blocked it all firmly. Abel cast again. This time, the storm was fiercer, sharpened by mixed demonic energy.

“Can you win?”

“Of course.”

Aint charged head-on into the hurricane. A spark of light expanded and devoured the darkness.

Boom!

The explosion shook the world like an earthquake. Fernan raised stone walls to shield himself from the shockwave.

“With that, everyone in the Academy will have heard. The director’s going to be furious.”

‘This is far beyond the level of a first-year.’

Because he was a corrupt. That’s why Jeff Lavre, who should’ve been first, ended up second.

The light faded. In the end, Abel stood with a sword through his heart.

“Khuhuhuh…”

His eyes were bloodshot, his veins grotesquely bulging. He was either laughing or crying—impossible to tell.

“In this state, I can’t beat Armian…”

Cough! He spat black blood.

“That your dying message?”

“Wait, Aint.”

Fernan stopped Aint before he could deliver the final blow.

“Just in case—want to say who’s behind you?”

“When you guess, it’s as good as confirmed.”

“I see.”

“If we’d taken things slower, it would’ve worked. What a shame. A real shame.”

He laughed at himself, then suddenly went still.

“Even so…”

He locked eyes with Fernan.

“What I said is true. Everything went according to plan. I may be impatient, but I’m not useless. Just wait for what’s coming, Fernan Pellenberg.”

With those words, Abel’s body exploded.

***

The explosion of a corrupt was already a familiar sight. Aint and Fernan were prepared—they took no damage.

But something didn’t add up.

“…There’s no body.”

Even when they exploded, there were always remains. This time, nothing—only dust.

“…A demon?”

According to Fernan, the only ones who left no remains were demons.

“If it were a demon, it wouldn’t be this weak.”

“True. Then maybe a special kind of corrupt, with so much demonic energy that it’s almost at a demon’s level.”

“That seems like the most logical explanation.”

— Was there a demon like that? Even I haven’t seen them all. The war was fought across the whole continent, and I didn’t face only the 72.

In the end, they could only let it go.

“And those last words? What did he mean?”

“Not worth worrying about.”

It was probably true that he had achieved his goal—confirming something about Fernan.

“Isn’t it strange to boast that he succeeded in his plan?”

“It was a threat. It means that now, not just you, but I’m also being watched. That we won’t be able to move as freely.”

In other words, be careful walking at night. It was a trick to sow fear—but Fernan wasn’t someone who could be intimidated.

“They want me to back off. Not happening.”

Losing money was the only thing he feared. And now he had another reason to oppose them—they despised money as if it were just shiny metal.

“Let’s go back. I’m sure the entire Academy is awake by now.”

“Ah, and what do we do about this?”

The place had been reduced to ruins by the battle.

“It’s all recorded by the artifact. There won’t be any problem.”

“When did you activate it?”

“From the start.”

It had become a habit since he learned the corrupt had once manipulated a similar device to have him excommunicated—always recording everything suspicious from the start.

“Let’s go before the people arrive.”

“Yeah.”

That night, both vanished into the shadows.

***

“This matter will be buried.”

The rector poured milk into his tea.

“No need to explain why.”

Not once, but twice. And it happened after the rector himself had ordered a thorough investigation—yet another incident with a corrupt in the Academy.

Even if that corrupt was just a first-year, it didn’t erase the Academy’s incompetence.

From the rector’s perspective, and for the Academy’s reputation, the right thing was to keep this incident quiet.

“I understand.”

“For that, I need the recording you made.”

“I already gave it to you.”

“I don’t trust merchants. They’re generous benefactors to the Academy, yes—but whenever they see an opportunity, they try to profit.”

The rector stirred his tea with the spoon, blending the milk.

“What you gave me—is it genuine?”

“Yes.”

“And can you assure me there are no additional copies?”

Fernan didn’t avoid the rector’s sharp gaze.

“If I say yes, will you believe me?”

“No, I’ll confiscate it by force.”

“Then no. I don’t want to make an enemy of an Archmage over something this small. Consider it my compensation for failing to keep the last promise.”

The promise had been to keep the summoning of Andromalius secret.

But Fernan broke it at the Academic Congress, revealing it to Duke Vienderk and the Pope of the Dragon God Cult.

There had been no other choice at the time, but he had done so without the rector’s consent.

Fortunately, the rector understood and let it go, though an invisible debt remained.

Fernan took the opportunity to repay it.

“Very well, so be it.”

The rector accepted.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. Thanks to you, we extinguished the spark before it burned the entire mountain. If you want something in return, I’m willing to hear it.”

“Just erase this as if my mistake never happened—that’s enough. Rather, what do you plan to do now?”

“What else could I do, knowing there are still corrupts in the Academy?”

The rector smiled warmly. A kind smile for humans—but to demons and corrupts, it held no kindness at all.

***

Fernan finished the meeting with the rector and got into the carriage.

“Did the conversation go well?”

“Yes, I handled it perfectly.”

“And Abel—what will happen to him?”

“The rector will handle it.”

Fernan already had a good idea of what would happen.

“If it were me, I’d go straight to Abel’s family and shut them up. I’d show them the recording of their son as a corrupt.”

“I’d tell them—if you don’t want this made public, do as I say.”

Abel would be expelled immediately, and during the return trip, he’d die in an “unfortunate accident.”

A shipwreck during a storm would be most convenient.

The ship would be lost, but it was a small price to protect the Academy’s and the Royal Knights’ reputation.

“The parents will comply, of course.”

“I said it as a threat, but in reality, it’s the best outcome for both sides. If it’s discovered that Abel was a corrupt, their house would be destroyed.”

After a demon appeared in Bercheff, the alert against corrupts was at its highest.

Rumors were already circulating that a purge of corrupts had begun in several kingdoms.

“The problem would be if the parents were corrupt too…”

Fernan shook his head.

“That’ll be the rector’s job. Not my concern.”

“Right. Then where are we headed?”

“To Ravidus Hall.”

“Understood.”

The carriage departed.

Fernan, leaning against the window, got lost in thought.

‘The corrupt have started to focus on me. I need to be extremely cautious.’

Moving around without Wooden in these circumstances was a huge risk.

‘And Silver—I have to figure out how to deal with him. What a pain. Again.’

The headache was familiar by now. Fernan closed his eyes.

The pages of the prophecy unfolded before him.

[— Andromalius, and now Seir. The demon invasion advances quickly.
Preparations are necessary.

— This time, no matter the cost, we must win the jousting tournament and obtain the reward the Founding Emperor left behind.

— But right now it seems impossible. Against other rivals, maybe. But against Luina Bercheff, nine out of ten times you’ll lose.]

This time, the prophecy didn’t announce an imminent crisis or a corrupt’s appearance.

It was Gardner who felt the urgency—due to the advancing demon invasion, Aint needed to grow stronger faster.

But wishing wasn’t enough—he needed a catalyst.

[— It’s time to search for what the Founding Emperor left behind.

“What is it?”

— The true swordsmanship.

“Swordsmanship? Aren’t I already learning it?”

— What I know, what you’re learning, even the secret art passed down in Armian—it’s all incomplete.

“What?”

— All inferior levels. The Emperor, at the end of his life, reached enlightenment and perfected swordsmanship. He hid it in a sea cave beneath the Academy.]

So, Aint headed to the sea.

[“…What is that?”

Before the door carved by human hands stood a massive block of ice.

Inside the ice was a monster, and glacial air filled the cave.

— Ah, I forgot to mention there’s a guardian protecting the entrance.

— The Emperor said—if you can’t defeat it, you’re not worthy of learning his art.

“And you tell me that now?! Did you really forget?”

— If you knew in advance, it would be meaningless. That’s a chimera.

— Created by the first Archmage and Pope of the Dragon God Cult, Eargrat. The Emperor wanted only someone who could defeat it to enter…]

The battle with the guardian began.

[The chimera, humanoid like a knight, was powerful.
─!

Every clash of blades took his breath away.

It was faster than him.

Its strikes were heavier.

Its swordsmanship was no less refined.

In every way, it was a superior version of Aint. He could barely hold on…]

After a hard fight, Aint won.

Though he was on the brink of death, it didn’t matter—because what came next in the prophecy was even more astonishing.

[“…Defeating the chimera isn’t enough. What does that mean?”

— …Damn it. Emperor, you fooled even me.

“Wait, is that…?!”

Beyond the door, there wasn’t swordsmanship—but a note and a mountain.

A mountain of gold, gems, and treasures.

— Every weapon is a high-level artifact.

— Did the Emperor loot a dragon’s nest? Or was Armian always this wealthy?

— If the Pellenbergs saw this, they’d lose their minds.

“…Not just the Pellenbergs. Anyone would lose their minds over this.”

— Perfect. With this, Armian can be reborn.

— You could even lend it to Bercheff to settle the debt with the Pellenbergs.

“Yeah, that…”

Aint gulped.

“With this, it feels like I could do anything.”

He was human too—and in front of such a mountain of treasure, greed was inevitable.]

Fernan clenched his fist tightly.

“……”

His heart pounded as if it would burst.

More than when he learned of Andromalius’ descent.

More than when he found out where the mithril was.

Desire burned within him.

“…It’s mine.”

It was the first thing he muttered, consumed by greed.

There were many things he could give to Aint.

That’s why he gave him the Saintbird’s heart.

That’s why he provided him with elixirs and helped him grow.

But if it was a treasure so vast that Gardner compared it to a dragon’s hoard—then it was a different story.

“All of it must be mine.”

A treasure piled like a mountain.

“It can’t belong to anyone else.”

An unclaimed treasure belongs to the first to take it.

And now only Fernan knew the secret.

“Gismond Ert… Hyde, turn the carriage around. Right now!”

First, he had to shut the mouth of a rival.