A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! — Chapter 231

Chapter 231

“How⁠‍ long has it⁠ been, old man.‌ Have you been⁠ well all this‍‍ time?”

The‍‍ Mercenary King, boarding‌‌ the ship, waved‌ toward the rector.⁠

“No,‍‌⁠ I haven’t.”

“Why?‌ After sitting for‍‍ so long with‍‍⁠ that heavy rear‌‌ in the Academy,‍ you should’ve been‌‌ all soft by now… Ah, right,‍ those damn demons‌ messed it all⁠⁠‌ up in your‌‌ final years, huh?”

“Your‌‌ way of speaking‌‌‍ always manages to‍ get on my‌‌ nerves.”

“You‍ should be used⁠‍ to it by⁠ now, right? But you still look⁠⁠‌ energetic, old man.”

“Those bastards managed to‌⁠ light the last‌ spark in an‍ old man who‌‌‌ was only waiting⁠ for death.”

“Haha looks like the‌⁠ demons messed with‍⁠ the wrong guy.”⁠‍⁠

The‌ rector and the⁠ Mercenary King spoke‌‍‍ naturally, like old‌ acquaintances.

Even‌ though the Mercenary King’s tone was‌‌ rough, the rector⁠‌ didn’t seem to‍‍ mind.

“Looks‍ like they already knew each other.”‌

“I‌⁠‌ heard they had⁠ some dealings about‌‍ ten years ago.”

To⁠‍ Luina’s question, Fernan⁠⁠ nodded.

The‌ Mercenary King was⁠‍ like a walking‌‍‌ network of contacts.‍

He⁠‍ traveled all over‌‌ the continent taking‌‌⁠ on jobs, and⁠ due to his‌ strength, he connected‌ with many important‌ figures.

Through‌‌⁠ them, naturally, he‌ also formed links‌ with other superhumans.‍‌

“We’re‍ setting sail!”

At‌ that moment, the‌ ship left the⁠ port, and a fresh sea breeze⁠‍ surrounded them.

“So,⁠‍ where are we‌ headed?”

“I‍⁠‌ didn’t tell you?”‍⁠

“No.”‌⁠

“North.”⁠‌‍

The⁠ route was clear:‍‍ head north, cross‌ the Kaldis Strait,‍ which separates the‌‍‍ continents of Lutar⁠‍ and Pandrein, as‌ well as the⁠‌ territories of Pellenberg,⁠ Schwaben, and the‍ Dragon God Cult.‍‍

Then,‌‌ dock in the‌ county of Haser,‍ beyond Schwaben, and‍⁠ from Lake Parma⁠ take another ship‌‍ that would take‌‌⁠ them to the‍ Kingdom of Linelt.⁠‍

That‍‌‌ was the itinerary of the journey.⁠⁠

“If‍⁠⁠ we could use⁠ transport circles, it⁠‌‌ would be much‌‍ easier, but the damn demons took‌‌‍ care of that.”⁠

Professor⁠ Dominique—or rather, Dantalion—had‍⁠‌ done two things⁠⁠‍ before starting the⁠ disaster: he had‌⁠ put the professors⁠ to sleep and‌ destroyed all the‌ transport circles.

That’s why the Academy’s‌ magic circles were‍‍‌ unusable.

Otherwise, they could have‍‍ traveled directly to‍‍ Bercheff and from‌ there taken the ship, saving a lot of time.‌

“A⁠‍‍ shame, but it⁠ can’t be helped.”‌⁠

“Personally,‍⁠ I don’t mind⁠‌ traveling by ship.”

“If‌‌‍ we were fewer,⁠ we could’ve even ridden Silver.”

“But⁠‍⁠ you sent him‍ back to Armian,‌‌‌ didn’t you?”

Yes.‌⁠‌ Since they couldn’t‍‌ bring him on such a secret‌ mission, they hung⁠ a letter written‍ by Aint around⁠⁠ his neck and‌ sent him flying‌⁠ back to Armian.

Fortunately,‍‌ Silver flew obediently.‍‌⁠

Before that, as promised,⁠‍ Fernan showed him to both the⁠ Mercenary King and Valoshi.

They‌‍ even wanted to⁠ ride him, but‌ Silver absolutely refused.‍‌‍

“Good⁠‌⁠ thing Aria isn’t‌ here. If she‌ came, she’d be‌ wishing for death‌‌ the whole trip.”⁠

Murmured‌⁠ Aint, who had⁠ listened to the‍ explanation.

From‍⁠⁠ his perspective, getting‌ injured was almost⁠ a blessing.

Otherwise,‌ Fernan would’ve brought‌ her along, and‍‌ for her, it‌⁠⁠ would have been⁠‍ the longest boat‌‌‌ ride of her‌‍⁠ life.

“Anyway,‍ everything’s too quiet.”‍‍

Fernan‍ tapped the ship’s railing absentmindedly with‌‍ his fingers.

“Why‍‌ do you say⁠‌ that?”

“I⁠‍ thought something would‌ happen this time⁠ too, so I made plenty of⁠ preparations—but nothing.”

Even‌‌ though they were‌ moving with as⁠‍ much discretion as⁠‌ possible, it always‌‍‌ happened—the cultists would⁠ show up to cause trouble.

That’s⁠⁠ why Fernan had⁠‍ taken all sorts‍⁠‍ of precautions, but‍ there were no⁠ signs of anything.‍

‘Either‍‍ they didn’t find‌ out because the‌ Academy was completely‌‌ shut down, or they know and‍ are choosing not‍ to interfere. One⁠‌⁠ of the two.’‍

Either⁠‍ way, if they‌ could save the trump cards they’d⁠ prepared, all the‍ better.

After⁠ all, all that⁠ cost money.

***‍‌

While Fernan crossed the‍ Kaldis Strait, someone⁠‌ had already left⁠ the Academy to‌ return to his⁠⁠ people.

“Here⁠‍ it is… Algott…”

It‍‍⁠ was Ahgrot, the⁠ second-year student transferred‌⁠ from the dwarves.⁠

His‍ heart pounded hard.‌

The‍ county of Algott.‍

Now⁠ turned into dwarven‍⁠ territory.

“Wow…!”

Entering‌ the capital of⁠⁠ the territory, he‌ couldn’t help but⁠ exclaim.

There⁠‌ weren’t just dwarves—there‍⁠ were also humans mixed in—but what‍⁠ impressed him most⁠ was seeing so⁠⁠⁠ many dwarves living under the sunlight.⁠

“Ahgrot?”⁠⁠⁠

“Ahgrot’s back!”

As‌ soon as he‌‌ entered the city,⁠ the dwarves going⁠ about recognized him instantly.

It was a city‍‌ of tens of thousands of inhabitants,‌ but so isolated‌ that almost everyone⁠‍ knew each other.⁠

“My⁠ friends…!”

“Ahgrot!”‌

The‌‍ young dwarf hugged‌ his old friends⁠ tightly.

“How‍ have you been?”‌‍

“Just⁠ not being stuck‍⁠ in damp underground tunnels anymore already‌ makes us happy.”⁠

“Same‍‌ here.”

Every‌ living being must live under the‍ sun.

The‌‍ dwarves were finally⁠ enjoying a natural⁠ right that had⁠‍ always been denied‌⁠ to them.

“But the whole city seems under construction,⁠‌‍ doesn’t it?”

The city was bustling.‍⁠‍

Sounds⁠⁠ of hammers, the⁠ heat of forges,‌ new buildings going‌⁠ up, and others‍ being torn down‌‌ everywhere.

“The‍ mayor ordered a full reconstruction of‍ the city.”

“The‌‍ whole thing? Is‍⁠ that even possible?”⁠

Although‌‍ Pellenberg had ceded‌ the territory to⁠‌ the dwarves, the‍⁠⁠ main inhabitants were⁠ still humans.

The dwarves only numbered‍‍ in the tens of thousands.

“They‌‌ say for a single city, it’s no problem. It‌‍ was Fernan Pellenberg‍ who personally authorized‌ it.”

More than that—he told⁠ them to develop‌‌ the place however‌ they wanted.

“And what happened to⁠‌⁠ the humans who‍ were against it?”⁠

“They‌ left. They were‌ relocated to other‍ places, with settlement‌⁠ subsidies.”

“So⁠ the ones left‌ here…”

“They’re⁠‍ all the ones‍⁠ who have no‍‌‌ prejudice against dwarves‌ and supported the⁠ full reconstruction.”

Fernan’s‌‌ order was simple—don’t‍ hold back, don’t‍‌ be afraid of‍ Pellenberg’s or other⁠ humans’ opinions, and‍‍ build a fully⁠‍ dwarven city.

“But‌ why?”

It‌⁠‌ was too much.⁠‍‍

The⁠⁠ Fernan Ahgrot knew‍ from the Academy‍⁠ never did anything without a reason.‍‌

“He‌⁠ said something, that‌‌ he wanted to‌ use this as‍⁠ a city for…⁠‌ chests, or something.⁠ I don’t quite‍ remember. Anyway, he‍‌ told us to‌ do whatever we‌ wanted, and that’s‍ more than enough.”

“Yes.‍ We’ve never had‍ this much freedom.‍‍ At first, we‌ hesitated, but following‌ Fernan Pellenberg was‌ the best decision.”‍‌⁠

The‍ dwarves laughed with‌⁠ satisfaction.

Their‌ faces radiated true⁠‌‌ happiness.

“And‌⁠ what are you‌⁠ building now?”

“I’m‌ assembling a huge⁠‍ underground workshop…”

“And‍⁠ I’m digging a tunnel under my⁠‍‌ house…”

“…After‌⁠ all that effort to get to‌‌ the surface?”

“It’s⁠⁠ what we do‍ best…”

Maybe‍⁠‌ something was wrong—but‌⁠ oh well.

***‌

Since⁠⁠ the dwarves arrived,⁠‌ the city was⁠‍ changing.

All‌‍ the buildings were‌ being torn down‌ to transform it‌ into a city⁠ of the dwarves,‌‌ by the dwarves,⁠‌ and for the‍ dwarves.

They⁠ didn’t completely erase the human traces,‍‌ but anything even⁠‌ slightly inconvenient was‍‍ removed.

Of‍⁠‍ course, they had‍ the permission of‍‍ Pellenberg, who could‍ be considered their lord, and strong‍‌ financial support, so⁠⁠ nothing could stop⁠ them.

“…But‌ why are more‍ than half of‌ the buildings being‌ built underground? After⁠ all that effort⁠ to reach the⁠⁠ surface…”

“…It’s‍ our instinct as‌ dwarves.”

The‌ mayor smiled awkwardly.

It⁠‍ wasn’t by chance⁠‌‍ that dwarves had chosen the depths⁠ to hide in‍ out of all‍‌ places. Even though⁠⁠‍ they longed for‍ sunlight, in essence,‍⁠ they loved the‍‌ earth.

“Well,⁠‍ who cares whether⁠⁠ we build above‍ or below ground.‌‍ What matters is‌‌⁠ that now everyone‌ does it joyfully⁠⁠ and of their‌‍ own free will.”⁠

“That’s⁠⁠ true.”

“And‍ how’s the Academy?”⁠

“I⁠ almost died.”

“I read about it⁠‌ in the papers. A disaster happened‍ there.”

That‍ a demon had‌ been summoned in⁠ the Academy.

When‍ the news spread⁠ with all its details, the mayor⁠ felt a chill.⁠

If‍‍ not for Fernan,⁠ that fate could have befallen the⁠⁠ dwarves.

Worse—since they didn’t have‌⁠‍ a Fernan, what⁠ they would have‍‍ faced would have‌ been even more‍⁠‍ dreadful.

The‍ mayor once again‌⁠ remembered how lucky‌‌⁠ they were to have met Fernan,‍ received his help,‌ and accepted his‍‍ offer.

“Yes,⁠ that’s why my⁠ senior set out‍‍ to seek revenge.”⁠

“Revenge?”‌

“That’s‍‍ all he said before leaving, so‌ I don’t know⁠‌⁠ more.”

“Seems‍⁠ like he found‍ the trail of‍ the corrupt ones‌ who ruined the‍ Academy.”

Just‍ the thought of‌‍ the cultists suffering‌ at Fernan’s hands made the mayor‍‌ let out a laugh.

“By‌ the way, you’ve‌ come at a good time. Will⁠ you run in‍ the elections too?”⁠⁠‍

“Elections?”‌

“Yes.⁠ I’m the dwarves’‌ representative for now,⁠ but after all,⁠‌ I’m just the‌‍ mayor.”

It‍ was a lifetime‌ position, but not‍⁠ eternal or hereditary.‌⁠

However,‌ the county of⁠‍ Algott and the‌⁠‌ noble title granted⁠⁠ by Pellenberg were hereditary.

“We’ll‍ elect a new‌⁠⁠ leader. Anyone can‍ run, anyone can‍‍ vote, and anyone‌ can be chosen.”‌‌

The‌ difference was that this would be the last vote.‍

The⁠‍⁠ winner would not only hold the‌ position for life⁠⁠⁠ but the rank⁠⁠⁠ and territory would⁠‍ become hereditary, making‍‌ them a true noble.

Fernan‌⁠⁠ had encouraged the‌⁠ mayor to become⁠⁠ the Count of⁠‍‌ Algott, but he⁠ had made a very dwarven decision.‌‍

“Ah,‌ no. I’ll pass.⁠‌ I know well⁠‍‌ I’m not cut‌ out to be⁠‌ a leader…”

That‍‍ only caused him⁠⁠ discomfort, and he‍ lacked confidence in⁠ himself.

“That’s‌ fine.”

The‌ mayor didn’t push⁠‌ him more than‌‌ once.

“Actually,‍‌ I’ve come for⁠ something else.”

“Something⁠‍ else?”

“There’s‍ also a dwarf‍⁠ in the Academy.‍⁠ He’s a professor‌‌‌ now, and he‌ plans to build something together with‌‌ senior Fernan.”

“A⁠‍ dwarf? What’s his‍⁠ name?”

“Professor⁠⁠⁠ Harcon Pallas.”

“Doesn’t⁠ ring a bell.”‍‍

He⁠ was probably a dwarf from another‍ village or city.‍‌

“He’s‌ asked for our‍ help. He suggests⁠ we work together⁠⁠ on a project.”‍‍‍

“Together?⁠ On what?”

“On‌ the creation of‌ golems.”

“Golems?”

The‍⁠ mayor remembered one‍‍‌ in particular—the golem‌ that caused such‍‌⁠ a stir in⁠ the papers during‌‌ the demon attack.⁠

“…The one they said‍ had its own‍⁠ will and could⁠ freely change size?⁠‍‌ Is that true?”‍

“Yes.‍ I saw it‍ with my own‍ eyes.”

“And⁠‍ it was hidden⁠ in a necklace, right?”

“That’s‍ right.”

“What⁠‌ a way to fool us so‌ well…”

The‌‌⁠ mayor ground his⁠ teeth.

To⁠ have had such a marvel right‍‍⁠ in front of⁠ him and not‍⁠‍ recognize it made⁠‌ him want to tear his eyes⁠⁠‌ out.

“And⁠ now they plan⁠⁠ to build something‌‌⁠ like that? With‍⁠ Fernan’s support? Then‌⁠ we have to‍‌ do it without‌⁠ hesitation!”

“No,⁠ that’s not it.”‌

The‍ mayor’s excitement died‌ instantly.

“Then?”

“It’s⁠‌ about something called‌ an auto golem…”⁠‍

When‍⁠ the concept of⁠‌ Auto Golems was‌‍ explained to him,‍‍ the mayor nodded‍ distractedly.

“It’s‍ a pretty innovative⁠ project. If they⁠⁠ manage to produce⁠⁠ them, it would‍‌ be amazing.”

“They⁠ need to build‍ a hundred of⁠ them.”

“I⁠‍ don’t know… with⁠‌ gold right in‌ front of you,‌‌ I don’t see‍ the point of⁠ digging for bronze.”‍‌‌

The⁠‍ Auto Golems were‌ impressive, yes—but everything⁠ was relative.

“An Ego Golem uses‌‌ mithril and adamantite,⁠ and in large⁠‌⁠ amounts. Building another‌‌⁠ one like it‌⁠‍ is almost impossible.”‌‌

“…Mithril‌ and adamantite? They’re‌ insane. But sure,‍ with those materials,⁠‌‌ something extraordinary could⁠ be made.”

“Unless‌ we have the‌ help of senior and Pellenberg.”

“What⁠ do you mean?”‍

“Senior‍⁠⁠ promised it.”

Ahgrot‍‍⁠ spoke slowly, emphasizing⁠‌ every word.

Fernan‍ had told him‌ exactly how to‌ deliver the message.‍‍

“If⁠ we manufacture one⁠⁠ hundred Auto Golems‍‌‌ to a level‌‌‍ that satisfies him,‍ he’ll do everything⁠ in his power⁠‌‍ to help us⁠‌ build an Ego‍ Golem.”

“I see…”

The⁠ mayor nodded.

“And‌⁠ this Harcon Pallas,‍ where is he‍‌ now?”

Ambition⁠ burned in his⁠‌ eyes.