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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 173

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.

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