Chapter 173

─!

Nasgrim’s torso reeled violently. Without giving him a break, the sword came down again.

─!

But this time, it was Gismond who was thrown back.

The twin scythes, twining like serpents and striking relentlessly, forced him to retreat uncontrollably.

“Help…”

He was about to shout—but stopped.

The assault had stopped. Or rather, Nasgrim had vanished.

“Ha…”

He let out an incredulous laugh. Nasgrim was charging toward Fernan—or more precisely, toward Adguif, who was half-slumped against the wall as if already dead.

“…This is just too much, isn’t it?”

Even if I’m weak, even if you’re a level 2 monster—

“I’m not at the point of turning my back for free.”

The days when he stole elixirs from Aint, the battles he was thrown into against the knights of Bercheff—all of it came rushing back like a whirlwind.

Gismond clenched his teeth. Aura burst across his body, his sword, and especially his feet.

Boom— The aura exploded, shattering the ground. At the same time, Gismond shot forward like an arrow.

“Speed sword…!”

It’s an explosion, damn it!

His sword carved a long arc.

“No, no—!”

“Yes!”

Gismond’s sword pierced Nasgrim’s heart. Hyde’s blade sliced his neck.

The body, which had begun to swell for self-destruction, collapsed and withered.

The monster fell.

“Hah… hah… I beat him?! Me?”

Gismond trembled at the miracle he had just pulled off. He had defeated a level 2 monster. Even if he’d barely held on—even if Nasgrim had only tried to self-destruct on Adguif’s corpse at the end—it didn’t matter.

“I did it!”

He raised both arms. His whole body hurt, but euphoria flooded him. Compared to when he first fell into this world, it was like the difference between a firefly and the full moon.

“These creatures never change.”

Fernan clicked his tongue, looking down at Nasgrim’s corpse.

Why had he tried to self-destruct on a corpse? Was there something in Adguif’s body?

He didn’t know it was just a delayed order to erase evidence.

“Let’s go back, senior. We’ve already got what we wanted.”

“Weren’t we going to catch the real corrupt ones? Are we just letting them go?”

Gismond brimmed with confidence.

“We already know who’s responsible. And besides, if he’s not an idiot, he didn’t stick around here.”

By now, he had surely fled.

Kugggg—

“Waaah! What is that?”

The monsters surged toward them—but not to attack. They were running in the opposite direction, fleeing.

“That’s proof the corrupt are escaping.”

“…But before that—aren’t we going to die?”

“As long as the senior puts in the effort, we won’t die.”

“You—!”

“A mage never goes to the front line.”

“Only when it suits you, huh?”

Gismond roared with rage and swung his sword.

After barely holding off the wave, they managed to escape the tunnel.

“The monsters are retreating!”

“We won!”

“We’ve repelled the beasts!”

The dwarves erupted in cheers.

It was a victory.

A victory made of scars—the eastern district lay in ruins.

***

Bwooooo—

The sound of the horn echoed through the entire underground city.

In the devastated center, dwarves in black uniforms marched. Among them, hundreds of coffins were carried.

“Damn monsters…!”

“Karoi! How can you leave before your parents, Karoi?!”

“Mom, Dad, aren’t you coming back?”

Children searching for their parents, parents mourning their children, devastated lovers—everyone cried, and everyone was filled with rage.

At the head of the procession, in a coffin, lay Adguif’s body.

“Adguif!”

“Captain Adguif!”

The dwarves cried out his name through tears.

“Captain Adguif and the thirty guards gave their lives to buy time against the monster horde. We will never forget their sacrifice.”

The coffin reached the city hall, where the mayor delivered the final speech.

“Dead, and now he’s celebrated… the same man who handed over hundreds of dwarves to the corrupt is now a hero.”

“It was the best decision under the circumstances.”

The dwarves had suffered too much. Hundreds had died in recent years, and in this attack, hundreds more.

If it were now revealed that the much-respected captain had actually been a traitor, the blow would be irreparable.

The mayor and the councilors didn’t want to give them more despair. So, Adguif died a hero.

After the funeral, Fernan was summoned by the mayor.

“We’ve lived too comfortably in peace.”

The mayor’s face was grim as he spoke once Fernan sat down.

“We preferred hiding and fleeing to fighting.”

That’s why they had taken refuge in the underground city. For centuries, thanks to that, the dwarves had avoided invasions and known peace. But the price was high—they forgot how to fight.

And now, the cost had been collected.

“If it weren’t for you, Fernan, the city would’ve been devoured.”

Indeed, it would be in the future—but Fernan didn’t mention that.

“We’ve realized our weakness. If there are two, three, four more attacks, we’ll be wiped out.”

The dwarves didn’t have the strength to withstand many more invasions. Maybe with enough time, they could prepare—but the corrupt would never give them that time.

“So, we’ll choose the only path that lets us survive. Among all the options, we’ll take the strongest rope.”

Fernan straightened his posture even more.

“I’ve already discussed it with the councilors. We should’ve done it long ago.”

“But let’s make one thing clear.”

Fernan interrupted him.

“The Pellenberg don’t help for free.”

“Creating things is what we do best. I’m sure even by Pellenberg standards, this will be worth it.”

“Once the contract is signed, it can’t be undone.”

“That’s obvious.”

Not even the hero who saved the city would be allowed to decide the future of an entire race lightly.

“The contract has already been reviewed with the councilors. We deemed it fair and acceptable.”

Fernan took out the contract he had prepared.

“Then sign first, and we’ll talk afterward.”

“But first, one question.”

The mayor, pen in hand, paused.

“We must not let the elves discover we’ve been hiding here.”

“That benefits us too.”

If they found out there was a large dwarven city on their territory, and that the Pellenberg planned to absorb it, the elves would never stand idly by.

Fernan didn’t want that conflict either.

“Then plan a way to move them without anyone knowing.”

“You mean relocating the dwarves to the promised land?”

“Call it whatever you like, but yes.”

“Leave that to me.”

Moving things was what the Pellenberg did best.

“No matter how hard it is, I’ll do it. Even if they say it’s impossible, I’ll do it. Even if they say I’ll die trying, I’ll do it.”

“…Do you have to put it in such grim terms?”

“I’m just being honest.”

So don’t sign with anyone but the Pellenberg.

“Understood?”

Fernan’s eyes burned with greed.

***

While Fernan fought monsters in the underground city and, through negotiations with the mayor, finally got what he wanted—

Aint was also about to fight his own battle.

“…It’s been a year and a half.”

Aint took a deep breath as he gazed at the imposing fortress in the distance.

— Aren’t you a little too nervous for just going home?

“If it were just going home, there’d be no reason to be nervous.”

But Aint had a heavy mission on his shoulders.

He had to convince his father and gain forgiveness for what he’d already done.

“When he finds out I borrowed that much money from the Pellenberg, he’ll definitely be furious.”

— If he finds out how you got it, instead of getting mad, he’ll carry you on his shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s a huge advantage.”

That meant Fernan had been very generous with him.

“When I become emperor, I can’t imagine what he’ll ask for in return.”

— That’s a problem for after you become emperor. It’s not even guaranteed you will.

“I have to be.”

It wasn’t that Aint didn’t want the throne—but his main goal was something else: family.

He wanted to restore its greatness, and to do that, he had to become emperor.

With a face hardened by determination, he approached the city—the great metropolis of Atrin, now the new capital after the previous one was lost.

“Young master?”

“Is that really the young master?”

The one advantage the fallen House Armian still had was the strong bond that united its people.

The gate guards instantly recognized the young lord returning after a year and a half.

“It’s the young master! He’s back!”

“Inform the lord immediately!”

The guards rushed to greet him, and several more ran toward the fortress to announce the news.

“Has everyone been well?”

“Of course, dorenim. We’ve read about you in the newspapers. We’re so proud…!”

“It’s nothing special. Don’t praise me so much.”

“What do you mean? You hunted a demon! It’s like the First Emperor has returned!”

“It wasn’t a demon, it was a Corrupted, idiot.”

“Same thing.”

Aint chuckled lightly, watching the guards bicker. The warmth of his homeland enveloped him.

“Can I go in now?”

“Of course! But…”

Aint noticed the stares weren’t on him—but on his shoulder.

“…Is that really a Saintbird?”

“T-two pairs of wings…”

It was Silver, the Saintbird Fernan had entrusted to him to help convince his father.

— Pii!

Noticing the attention, Silver flapped a wing as if waving.

The guards and surrounding crowd gasped.

“…Never thought I’d see a real Saintbird in my life.”

“How can something be this adorable…?”

“A Saintbird has returned to Armian!”

The entrance filled with excitement.

“Young master, can I touch it…?”

“No, he’s not used to being manhandled.”

“Ah…”

The commotion didn’t stop, so Aint gestured.

“Can I enter now?”

“O-of course! Why haven’t you opened the gates yet, idiots?!”

Aint passed through the gate. Despite the time that had passed, Atrin hadn’t changed much.

— They said the city had fallen, so I thought it’d be in ruins. But it looks pretty prosperous.

‘You know what they say—even a fallen noble house can survive three years.’

That was Armian. Though it had lost most of its lands, what remained was fertile ground.

— Pellenberg could probably last not three years, but three hundred.

‘Can Fernan even go bankrupt?’

— True, he’d never let his fortune go without fighting to the bitter end.

That greed gave Aint strength—and spelled doom for the Corrupted.

“Young master!”

As he walked down the avenue, a group of knights ran up. They were Armian’s last remaining knights—the Order of the Sacred Constellation.

“Sir Gamelun.”

“As soon as we heard you’d returned, we dropped everything and came running.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“We’ve followed your story in the papers. It fills us with pride.”

“You say that, but you’re not even looking at me—you’re looking at Silver.”

“Ah, sorry. We never imagined you’d have a real Saintbird…”

“It was luck.”

— You lost it to Fernan and were just lent it. That’s not luck.

Aint ignored Gardner.

— Is that the captain of the order?

‘Yeah.’

— Wow. He’s competent, but in my time it was unthinkable for anyone outside the Royal Guard to lead such an order. Total decline.

— Maybe that’s why demons are descending again.

Aint nearly burst out laughing but held it back. Now wasn’t the time for jokes upon reuniting with his knights.

“The lord awaits.”

“Let’s go. That’s why I came—to see my father.”

At the top of the fortress was the lord’s office.

The room was modest, reflecting its owner’s unpretentious character.

“Sit down.”

“Aint, it’s been a long time… huh? Is that really a Saintbird?”

Upon entering, two people were waiting with tea and sweets ready.

A middle-aged man with brilliant blond hair and eyes as blue as the sea.

And a woman with chestnut hair down to her waist and golden eyes.

“Father, Mother.”

They were Ferdicas Armian and his wife, Olivia Armian.

“Let me take a good look at you.”

Olivia cupped his cheeks and examined him with concern.

“You look haggard. Seems you’ve lost weight. You must’ve suffered…”

“I actually gained a little.”

“No way. I’ll have them make all your favorite dishes. Ah! And that bird, what does he eat?”

“His name’s Silver. He likes the best beef.”

“Even that’s fancy.”

Without another word, she rushed off to find the chef.

“…My mother hasn’t changed.”

“Her personality never will.”

In contrast, the duke stayed seated, calmly observing his son.

“How did you get a Saintbird? That’s more intriguing than seeing you.”

“More than your own son?”

“Not since the First Emperor has one been tamed.”

“It was luck.”

“It can’t just be luck.”

You couldn’t raise a Saintbird on luck alone. The duke stared in fascination for a moment, then regained his serious demeanor.

“It’s been four years, hasn’t it?”

“Ahem… It was just youthful impulse…”

Aint coughed and looked away.

— Four years?

‘I promised not to come back until I graduated from the Academy.’

There was nothing special behind it.

The duke had warned him about how he’d be treated at the Academy, but Aint insisted on going.

/“I respect your decision. But don’t push yourself. If it’s too hard, come home. No one here will blame you.”/

That irritated him. Even though he knew it was said out of love, it sounded like they already assumed he’d fail.

“A year and a half isn’t that long.”

“I came back today for a reason.”

“A reason?”

“I want to speak not as father and son, but as duke and vassal.”

Aint’s solemn tone made the duke serious.

If he returned before graduating and after fighting Corrupted, it must be something important.

“Speak.”

“Don’t be too surprised.”

“Say it without fear.”

The duke didn’t expect anything that could truly shock him.

“I borrowed money from the Pellenberg.”

“…From the Pellenberg?”

“No. I already did.”

“…Ah.”

The sky fell.

Thud—

The duke slumped over the table.

— Pii! Pii!

And at hearing the name Pellenberg, Silver chirped with tears of joy.