A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! — Chapter 220

Chapter 220

A few days before Andrealphus descended upon‍⁠‌ the Academy.

In⁠ the underground depths of the northern‍ Empire, a battle‍‌ was being fought that would decide‌⁠‍ the fate of⁠ the world.

“How‌⁠ dare you use‌⁠‍ that cursed power?!”‌

Flauros’s⁠⁠ bewildered face and‌ voice were filled⁠⁠⁠ with confusion and rage.

Fernan‌ didn’t quite understand‌ the situation.

“Cursed⁠ power?”

Was‌ he using something⁠ like that?

That⁠ was the term‌‍ demons—or the corrupt—used‍ to refer to‍ the power of⁠‍ the Armian.

“Who⁠ the hell are⁠ you?! How do‍ you have the‌⁠‌ power of the‍‍ Armian…?”

“I’m⁠ Fernan Pellenberg.”

“So‍ those Armian worms sold their secret‌‍‌ sword art to‍ the Pellenbergs!”

“Looks‍⁠ like you’re seriously⁠ mistaken.”

To⁠ begin with, this‍ wasn’t even swordsmanship.⁠

“Yes,⁠ right. Armian is⁠⁠ swordsmanship, but why does it feel‌‌‍ like magic…?”

Fernan‍‍‍ drew power once again from the Dragon Heart.

A wave of steel infused with even denser mana surged‍ toward Flauros.

“You damned insect!”

Flauros‍‍ roared and swung⁠‍ his spear.

The‍ demonic magic exploded,⁠⁠ shattering the steel‌‌ wave, but Fernan‍⁠⁠ didn’t let the‌ fierce feedback escape‌ him.

‘Could it be…?’

This⁠ wasn’t the typical interaction between mana⁠ and demonic magic.⁠

It‍ was the reaction‍ between the power of the Armian‌ and demonic magic.‍

A force almost naturally hostile—a clash between‌ mortal enemies.

It‍ resembled the state of monsters when⁠ they died at‍ Aint’s hands, and⁠ also when Andromalius‍ was devoured during‍‍ their battle.

That’s‍‍‍ when Fernan became⁠ sure.

It was true.

‘This‌ is the power of the Armian.’‌

No,⁠‌‌ that was the‌ wrong way to⁠ put it.

In‌ truth, the power‌ of the Armian‌ was the power‍‌ of the dragon.

Then—⁠⁠

Fernan⁠ wiped the blood‍ dripping from his⁠ nose and fixed⁠‌ his gaze on‍ Flauros.

Was⁠ he supposed to‍ fear him just‌‌ because he was‌ a demon?

Even‍‍‌ if there wasn’t‌ a Royal Knight or an Archmage‍ here, he had‌‌ by his side‌ a mage comparable‌‍ to an Archmage‍ and a golem‌ whose raw strength‍ matched that of‍ a Royal Knight.

Fernan⁠ smiled.

He‍ thought he would‍‍⁠ die without ever‌‌ spending all his‌ money, but his⁠ gold had not⁠ yet abandoned him.⁠‍

“Wooden!‍ Push him with‍⁠ everything! Professor!”

“After‌‍‍ this, you’ll owe me a very‍⁠ clear explanation of‌ what’s going on.”‌⁠

Professor‌ Rosalia’s eyes were‌‍‍ full of questions,‌⁠ but she wasn’t‌ foolish enough to‌ waste this opportunity.‍

Whatever‌⁠ it was, Fernan‍ possessed the power⁠⁠ of Armian.

And‍‍ Flauros was rattled.‌⁠

It‌⁠⁠ was the perfect⁠ moment to bring‍ him down.

Wooden⁠ charged first.

─!

Sword‌ and spear collided,‌‍ unleashing a shockwave‌⁠ that shook the⁠⁠‍ cavern.

Wooden‍‌‌ was knocked back‌‌ as if he’d‌ bounced off.

Through⁠ the crack came‍‌ a sandstorm.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The‌‌ sand spun in‌‍ a relentless whirlwind‌ around the demon.
Each grain carried‌ the power of⁠‍ the dragon, and‌ before that storm,‌ Flauros screamed in‍ pain.

Szzz—‍⁠

The‍ acrid smoke devoured⁠⁠ the demonic magic.⁠

Flauros‌ choked on a groan, while Fernan⁠ coughed up blood.⁠⁠

And‌ at the same‌‌‌ time—

Swoosh—‍

An‍⁠ extreme cold surged‌ in, freezing even⁠ demonic magic.

The‍‌⁠ demon’s skin was⁠ coated in frost,⁠ his movements slowed,‍ and his magic⁠ flow was disrupted.‌

Amidst‍ the storm of⁠ sand and ice,⁠ Wooden charged again.‍‍‍

─!⁠

A brutal downward slash.‌

Flauros’s⁠ knee buckled for‍ a moment.

Proof‌ that, at least‌⁠⁠ in brute strength,‍‍‌ the golem could⁠‌ match the demon.‌‌

— Guoooo!

Wooden‌‍ roared in triumph‍⁠‍ and unleashed a flurry of unstoppable strikes, pouring out‍⁠ everything he’d learned‍‌‍ from Emond Altrierc.

In‌‌⁠ an instant, dozens‌ of exchanges occurred.‍

The⁠‍ ground cracked, fragments‌⁠‌ of aura and⁠⁠‌ demonic magic burst‍ in every direction.‍‌

In‌‍ the end, Flauros⁠ couldn’t withstand it⁠‍ and was thrown⁠‌⁠ back.

He⁠ tried to catch‍ his breath, but‍ the sandstorm kept⁠ devouring his field⁠ of vision and‌ corroding his magic.‌

“You⁠ damned bastards…!”

Flauros‍‍⁠ roared in fury.

Something‍ was going terribly‍ wrong.

He‌ had prepared this⁠‌ trap to finish‌ off Fernan Pellenberg.‍

Yet⁠ everything had turned‌‍ upside down.

Was⁠ it an illusion‌ to think he‌‍ was the one‌ trapped?

No—it⁠ wasn’t.

If⁠ Fernan didn’t possess⁠ that aura of‍ a true adversary,‍⁠ this would have‌ been a simple‍ ambush.

But‍⁠ with that power,⁠ everything had changed.

The⁠ golem, the ice‌‌ mage stronger than‍‍ expected, and Fernan with that cursed⁠⁠ power.

The‍ arrogance with which‌⁠ he had underestimated⁠⁠ them vanished.

“If⁠‌ I kill them⁠‍‌ all, it’ll deal‍ a devastating blow⁠‌⁠ to the humans‌‌⁠ too.”

And⁠ most of all,‌⁠⁠ he had to⁠⁠ kill Fernan Pellenberg,‍⁠ who had acquired‌ that cursed power,‌‌ right here.

Otherwise,‍ he would become‍‍ a dangerous obstacle⁠ to future plans.‍

Flauros⁠ clenched his fist,‍⁠ and demonic magic⁠‍‍ exploded around him.‌

Fernan’s⁠‌ sand tried to‌‍ devour it, but⁠ he didn’t stop—if his strength was‍ being corroded, he’d‍ just release more.‍⁠

It⁠ would end here,‍ in a swift‌ and decisive battle.⁠‌‍

Crack,‌‌ crack.

Flauros’s‍ body, enveloped in‌ demonic magic, twisted grotesquely.

His‌‌ muscles swelled, his⁠‍ body grew.

Rumble,‌ rumble.

The⁠ cavern’s space was⁠ too narrow to⁠ contain him.

The⁠⁠ ceiling began to⁠‍ collapse.

“Get⁠⁠ back!”

The‌‌ vault crumbled.

Fernan’s⁠‍ sand vanished—perhaps because⁠‌ he had to⁠ focus on his‌ own damaged body.⁠‍

“I’ll‍ kill you all.”‌

Flauros‍⁠ revealed his true form, over 10 meters tall.

His‌‍ skin fused with⁠⁠‍ his flesh, and⁠ claws, nails, and‍ fangs grew sharper.⁠

He‌‍⁠ lifted his foot‌ and brought it‍ down on the‌‍ golem.

He‌ was certain that‌‌‍ with that stomp,‌‌ charged with demonic‍⁠ magic, he would crush it.

— Guoooooo!

But‍ his certainty shattered.‌⁠⁠

The‌⁠ foot met resistance.

Not⁠‌ just resistance—a force‍⁠ that pushed it⁠‍ back.

A force that flipped⁠ it entirely, standing‌‌‍ face to face‍‍ at the same‍⁠ height.

“…What?”‍

A golem over 10⁠‌⁠ meters tall stood before him.

“…How?‌‍ Wasn’t it only‌⁠ human-sized?”

Only‌ then did he realize that this‍‍⁠ golem had always⁠ hung from Fernan’s‌‍ necklace.

The‍‌‌ surprise didn’t last‍‍ long.

— Gwoooooong!

From‌ the golem’s mouth‍‍ came an even‍⁠ sharper roar.

Immediately,⁠ it swung its⁠‍ sword.

The⁠ unexpected strike was‌‌ barely blocked by‍‍ Flauros, who lost‌⁠ his balance and‌⁠ rolled across the‌ ground.

“How‌‍ is this possible…?!”‌

The confusion didn’t fade⁠⁠ even amidst battle.‍‍‍

Was‌‍ what he was‍ seeing real?

Not‌ even in the⁠⁠‌ war a thousand‍‌ years ago, when Kallinos Armian raged‍ across the battlefield,‍ had something like‌⁠⁠ this been seen.‌‍⁠

Flauros‍‍ grabbed his spear‍‌ and lunged forward.‍

Wooden’s⁠ sword met it.‌

────!‌

The‍ shockwave, amplified by their colossal sizes,‍ shook the entire⁠⁠ mountain.

In‌ that clash, superiority‍‌‌ was clear.

Flauros⁠ didn’t give an‌ inch, while Wooden‌⁠ was pushed back‌‌ several meters.

But the golem wasn’t⁠ alone.

The‌ sandstorm roared again⁠⁠‍ with the cursed‍ power, and the⁠ ice froze his‍‌ legs completely.

The⁠⁠ triple assault gave‌ him no breathing‍ room.

None‍⁠ of them were‍⁠ weak, and with⁠‍ that cursed power⁠‌ devouring his magic,‍ he couldn’t unleash⁠⁠ his full strength.‍

Even‌‍ the golem’s aura,⁠ though not cursed‌ power, counteracted demonic‌ magic from another⁠ angle.

‘Am‌⁠ I the weak‍‌ one? Am I falling before mere mortals…?’

No.‌‍ Impossible.

He⁠ was a demon.‍‌‍

A lord of the⁠⁠‍ Demon Realm, commander‌ of 21 legions.⁠‍

There‍ was no reason‍ for him to‌ lose.

And yet, he was‍‍ being pushed back.⁠‍

Because⁠‌‌ his enemies weren’t‍‌ ordinary either.

The‍ ice mage relentlessly‌‍ disrupted his movements.

The‍‍‌ golem, with strength‍ comparable to the‍ mightiest demons, fought‌ him on equal⁠‍⁠ footing.

And‍ Fernan Pellenberg, with‌⁠ that cursed power,‍⁠ suffocated him.

The⁠⁠ coordination between the⁠ three was fluid⁠ and organic, as‌ if they were‌ a perfectly designed prison.

Any‍⁠‌ demon who wasn’t⁠‍ among the highest‌ would have already‍‌ fallen.

At last, Flauros made⁠⁠‍ another decision.

“You‌‍⁠ think you’re the‌ only ones who‍ can fight as‍ a team?!”

Fiuuuuu—⁠⁠

He‌⁠ let out a whistle.

A shadow covered the sky.

A gigantic black bird,‌ with wings over‌ ten meters wide,‌ descended.

It⁠ was his companion‌ and pet, the winged beast Plar.‍‍

If‍ Plar could handle‍⁠ one of them,‍ he could eliminate‍⁠ the other two.‍

Or⁠‍ so he thought⁠‍ for a moment.

Piiiiiiiiiii—⁠‌

Another‍ cry echoed.

One⁠‍ that didn’t come from Plar.

“…A Saintbird?”

The‌‍ cursed bird once‌ ridden by Kallinos‌⁠ Armian.

Above‌ Plar, a Saintbird‌‌ with two pairs⁠ of wings appeared.⁠

And,‍‌‍ far too naturally—⁠⁠

─!‌

Kyaaaaaaaa!‍

It‍⁠ dove at Plar.‍‌‍

The‍‌‌ black bird was‌ torn apart and‌ fell in a dive with a shriek.

“…This‌‌ is… a dream.”‍⁠

The‍‌ demon denied reality.‌‍

***‍⁠⁠

“That’s‌ how I defeated Flauros and flew⁠⁠⁠ here on Silver⁠ the moment I heard the Academy⁠‍ was in danger. I couldn’t just stay still.”

Fernan⁠‍ spoke as he⁠⁠‍ ran swiftly.

“Luckily⁠‌‌ I wasn’t wrong.‍‌ I managed to⁠ rescue you before⁠ something worse happened.”⁠‌

“I‌‍ appreciate it, but…”

Luina‌ left the sentence‌ hanging.

“Let me down first…”⁠

“Your⁠ bones haven’t fully⁠ mended yet. I’ll‍ let you down soon.”

“…”‌‍

Her⁠‍ face turned impossibly‌ red; at that‍ moment, she was‌‌‍ being held in‍ Fernan’s arms like⁠ a princess.

“This reminds me of‌ when we found Decarabia’s egg.”

“Back then our roles‍⁠ were different.”

“You⁠ keep strange memories.⁠‍ Your expression at‍‍⁠ that moment was⁠‌‌ quite the spectacle.”‍⁠⁠

“So‍ is yours right‌ now.”

“…”⁠‌

Luina‌ changed the subject.⁠⁠

“And‍ is it okay⁠ to leave Wooden like that? Even if it’s Wooden…”⁠

“Of⁠ course not. Even‌⁠ if Professor Grad‌‌ is a Royal‍ Knight, Wooden, the‌⁠‌ professor, and Jace‍ aren’t enough.”

“Professor Grad is a Royal Knight?”

“You⁠⁠⁠ didn’t know?”

“How would I have‍ known?”

“I⁠ knew.”

Fernan‌‍ hadn’t been generous‍ with Grad out‍‌ of whim—he gave⁠ him money because⁠‌ he truly deserved⁠⁠ it.

“Are‌⁠ you messing with me?”

“No.⁠ I’m just telling‌ the truth.”

“Professor⁠⁠ Grad… a Royal⁠⁠⁠ Knight? Seriously?”

Normally,‌ Royal Knights and⁠‌‍ Archmages display their⁠ rank openly. But⁠‍⁠ there was one‌‍‍ exception—a man who had once been⁠‌‍ a mercenary and‍ rivaled the Mercenary‍ King. He always‌⁠ wore a mask‌‍⁠ and never showed⁠ his face.

“He’s probably that man.”‍‍

“My‍‌ god… I didn’t‌ realize I had⁠ a Royal Knight‌ so close.”

Luina‌ scolded herself.

“Don’t‌ blame yourself—the professor‌ hid it well.”⁠‍‌

“And⁠ where are we‌ going?”

Still‌ carrying Luina, Fernan‍⁠ continued moving.

“To‌‌ the research block.”‍‌⁠

“The‌‍ research block?”

“Didn’t⁠ you ask earlier‍‍ if we could⁠‍‍ leave the three‌‍ of them alone?”

“Obviously‍‌ not. No matter‍ how much of‍ a Royal Knight Grad is, no matter how great‍‍ a saint Jace⁠ is, or how‍‌ much of a masterpiece Wooden may‍‍ be—a demon is still a demon.”‌

“I’m‌ going to find‌ more fighters.”

“More‍ participants?”

“I‌‍ sense the strongest⁠‌ concentration of demonic‌‍ magic in the⁠⁠ research block.”

That’s‍⁠ where the corrupt‍ could have laid⁠‍ traps. And if⁠‌ they had done‍‍ that before summoning‌ demons, there was⁠‍‌ only one person‍‌ they would want‌⁠ to trap.

“Aint‌ is there?”

“Yes.‍‌‌ Those idiots seemed so scared of⁠ Aint that they‌⁠ locked him up‍ before starting anything.”‍‌

“Then⁠ we have to‌‍ free him.”

“If‌‍‌ a demon has‌‍ appeared, it’s only⁠‍ logical that the‌ antagonist who’s fought⁠‍ them for a thousand years shows‌ up too.”