Chapter 247

Two demons had descended.

An overwhelming presence, completely different from anything before, covered the entire capital.

A chill ran down everyone’s spine.

‘Since when did Valac become two?’

Not really—Patrick had said that there were originally supposed to be three. Maybe it was a strategy by the corrupt, after their repeated failures against Fernan and Aint.

‘Perhaps I pushed them too far.’

He had tried to achieve too much at once, ignoring the possible countermeasures of his enemies.

He had changed the future several times, had seen the consequences, and still became overconfident.

It was undeniable that his faith in Aint, in the Mercenary King, and in the Rector had served as the foundation for that confidence.

But if he really trusted them that much, he should have at least thoroughly analyzed the magic circle before acting.

The corrupt who had been defeated in Alprosen, Eslyn, and the Empire were no fools. They wouldn’t keep falling into the same traps.

He acknowledged that his arrogance had caused him to let his guard down.

“Yes, you’re right. This time it was my mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Even so, at least part of the summoning had been intercepted.

If all three had appeared, there would have been no way out.

“Next time? You think you’ll get another chance?”

“I’ll ask you the opposite. Just as you expected Aint to appear the moment I did, would you believe me if I said I also considered the possibility that there might be more than one demon?”

“You’re spouting nonsense out of fear. Saying it doesn’t make it true.”

“Do I look scared?”

Fernan’s face remained calm—too calm for someone facing two demons.

Even with a royal knight and an archmage at his side, maintaining that level of composure seemed impossible.

“Are you implying you’ve got something else? Or is it… the Border Count of Bercheff…?”

“Some time ago, a fragment of Dantalion asked me how I managed to survive. How I killed Flauros.”

‘Go to the other world before me and I’ll tell you when you get there.’

“That’s how it was.”

Fernan extended his hand. Something began to stir, formed by magic.

“……!”

It was only a cluster of sand, a small storm of magic dust.

But the grains it was made of, and the energy they held, were far from ordinary.

Patrick’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.

“You…!”

He shouted unintentionally.

“How the hell do you have that?!”

That energy that made his skin crawl—he had felt it countless times.

A cursed power.

Humans called it “the power of Armian.”

But its true origin was not Armian.

“You! What connection do you have with Eargrath?”

Patrick’s face turned pale.

***

Eargrath.

The first Pontiff of the Cult of the Dragon God.

When Fernan heard that name from the mouth of a corrupt, he wasn’t too surprised.

After all, no one knows an enemy better than the enemy itself. It made sense that they would know the Dragon Heart originated from the Cult of the Dragon God.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fernan had no obligation to answer.

“Fernan, that power… what is it?”

“Yes, Fernan. When did you get something like that?”

“What’s going on? Even Aint doesn’t have that kind of power—why do you?”

Patrick wasn’t the only one who noticed the unknown energy in his magic.

Everyone was stunned by that power revealed for the first time.

“Senior…?”

— What is that? How can Fernan Pellenberg use the power of Armian?

But no one was more shocked than Aint and Gardner.

“How…?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Fernan ignored the confused looks.

“For now, the demons take priority.”

The gazes of the hellish beasts turned toward them—drawn to Patrick or to Aint, it wasn’t clear.

There was no time to lose.

“Fine, I’ll ask later. I’ll take care of him.”

Garrett pointed his spear at Patrick.

“I’ve got a debt to settle.”

“Aint, choose. Andras or Valac—which one do you think you can kill faster?”

“…I’ll take care of Andras.”

“Rector, please assist Aint.”

“I shall.”

Fernan looked at Luina.

“You’re coming with me. We’ll face Valac.”

“Yes, as you command.”

“And me?”

Gismond, the only one left unassigned, asked with a frown.

“This isn’t the time for you to face demons. Help Linelt’s army eliminate the monsters.”

“Understood!”

His face brightened with relief; he had feared he would be made to fight demons.

Then, everyone split up and charged into battle at the same time.

***

The situation was urgent, so he decided to let it go for now.

But was it really something he could let go?

The fact that Fernan possessed Armian’s power?

— I can’t accept it.

— He couldn’t have stolen or learned it. It’s not swordsmanship—it’s magic. It’s mixed into his very energy.

And in the visions Gardner knew about Armian, there was nothing like combining magic with that power.

His energy felt similar but at the same time strangely different.

— Eargrath…?

— The first Pontiff was a great mage, yes, but could that Armian power also come from him…?

Gardner’s thoughts couldn’t continue.

“Why?”

A twisted head leaned in close until it nearly touched his nose.

The owl’s yellow eyes pierced Aint with a savage stare.

“Why? You? You chose… me?”

Its voice was as rough as metal scraping against metal.

“Because you think… you could kill me… faster?”

Its fragmented, dissonant speech made the skin crawl.

“You underestimate me? Think… I’m easy?”

Andras’s yellow eyes opened wider.

“You think… I’m weaker… than Valac? Because I’m number 63? Weaker… than 62?!”

His final scream was almost a roar.

Whoooosh!

The demon roared, and his sword came down.

A massive blade engulfed in black fire.

The very space distorted as the sword fell toward Aint.

────!

Sparks and aura burst forth with the collision. A shockwave swept across the terrain.

It was heavy. Heavier than any blow he had taken before.

Aint held his breath.

— Don’t drop your guard! What you’re facing is a demon! A complete demon, descended in its true form!

Gardner’s voice snapped him back to reality.

Yes, the enemy before him was a demon. One he couldn’t afford a single mistake against.

He didn’t know how Fernan had obtained Armian’s power, but that didn’t matter now.

He could only find out if he survived.

Still.

‘It’s the first time, isn’t it?’

The first time he had blocked a direct attack from a complete demon.

It was overwhelming, terrifying—but not impossible to endure.

Before, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of it.

Aint realized just how far he’d come.

“You blocked it?”

The owl head twisted grotesquely.

The sword glowed again, releasing an even larger flame—hot enough to melt aura itself.

But Aint, instead of retreating, took a deep breath and unleashed all his energy.

His sacred power spread through his body, and under its influence, the demon’s flames began to weaken.

The swords clashed again.

────!

A bigger explosion than before devoured the surroundings.

In that instant, Aint took advantage of the gap between devouring light and darkness.

He aimed for Andras’s throat with all the speed his body could muster.

Slash!

He only grazed his shoulder, barely—but the impact was as brutal as striking a mountain.

Aint clenched his teeth as he felt the counterstrike, but he saw blood burst from the torn flesh.

His sword had pierced the demon’s skin.

“It hurts! It hurts!”

Andras screamed.

“Damn it! Power! It hurts!”

The black wolf beneath him lunged at Aint, throwing its master into the air.

Boom!

The blow was so immense that Aint’s body slid across the ground.

Above, Andras spread his wings and shrieked:

“Die! Die!”

Showers of feathers fell from the sky.

Each one, charged with demonic energy, was like a bomb tearing through everything in its path.

But none reached Aint.

Crack!

A blue lightning bolt descended, lighting everything up.

The thunder consumed both the feathers and the demon and his wolf.

“Student Aint, it seems the Academy didn’t teach you well.”

Rector Michael Montella clicked his tongue.

“In a situation requiring cooperation, you try to fight alone. That’s why we teach teamwork, understand?”

We’ll have to reinforce training for the professors too, he muttered.

If Professor Grad had heard that, he might’ve fainted.

“Ah…”

“You can answer later. Tell me, how did it go, facing him?”

“He’s not an easy opponent.”

“Of course. He’s a demon, after all. The same kind that destroyed the Academy.”

“But… if you help me, I don’t think it’s impossible to beat him.”

From Andromalius to Andrealphus.

Aint had fought countless demons and grown with each battle.

He didn’t always gain a revelation, but he had learned—bit by bit—absorbing demonic strength through Gardner.

Besides, he was a natural enemy of demons.

Fighting alone was still reckless, but with an archmage at his side, it was a different story.

“So, you want me to assist?”

What a bold boy.

“T-That wasn’t my intention…”

The rector stroked his beard and smiled.

“Just teasing. Very well, let’s see what you’re capable of. I’ll match your pace.”

Like one wave propelling the next—that’s how it should be.

An old mage, before retiring, should support the young hero.

The rector looked up at the sky.

“I suppose their reputation as demons isn’t for nothing.”

Despite the lightning he had unleashed, the demon remained intact.

His fur and clothes barely scorched, even the shoulder wound inflicted by Aint had already healed.

“It hurts! It hurts!”

Andras raised his sword with both hands.

A massive flame erupted, covering the sky. A heat so intense it could only be described as a disaster.

“Listen closely, Aint.”

The rector began forming hand seals. Magic circles surrounded him.

“Yes.”

Aint held his sword and focused his aura.

“I’ll block all his attacks. All of them, if I can.”

Even if he couldn’t nullify them completely, he would deflect the power, twist the trajectory—anything to keep them from landing.

“I promise you won’t be touched.”

So you.

“Drive that sword into the head of that thing. That spawn that’s neither beast nor man. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Aint nodded, tense.

They wouldn’t have many chances.

The rector planned to endure the demon’s full assault alone.

Not even an archmage could defeat a demon by himself.

“Die! Die!”

Whoooosh!

With a roar, Andras swung his sword.

The black flames covering the sky descended.

“Go!”

The rector extended his staff.

A pillar of lightning rose from the earth, defying gravity to clash against the fire.

The thunder resisted the apocalyptic fire.

And in the middle of that collision—

Aint charged in.

Graaah!

The wolf emerged from the flames, but—

Crack!

A second lightning bolt, striking from another angle, hit its flank.

The wolf howled and fell to the ground.

— Go, Aint! Defeat the demon, and then ask Fernan!

Aint’s sword gleamed with a holy light.