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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 256

Chapter 256

“……!”⁠⁠

Late‍⁠ at night, Aint‍ jolted awake.

His‍‌​ clothes and bed⁠ were soaked in‍​ cold sweat. He‍‌⁠ reached out and​ took a sip​‌ of water.

— Did you have‍⁠‍ a nightmare? asked‌‍‌ Gardner.

“Yes.‌​​ It was a nightmare.”

— What did you⁠ dream about?

“I‍​​ dreamed that Senior​​​ took every last⁠ resource from Armian…”‌⁠​

— Now that sounds⁠​ like a real​‌‍ nightmare.

Gardner⁠⁠‍ let out a soft groan.

— Even so, don’t​⁠ think so badly‍‌ of him. Back​ then, Fernan was⁠ a bit scary,‍⁠ sure, but he’s‍ also made a lot of things‌‌ easier for you.‌‍

That​​ was true.

— I’m starting to⁠​‍ understand how Fernan‌ sees you.

— You’re a goose.‍ A goose that​​ lays golden eggs.‌​‌

— That’s why he‌ feeds you well​ and takes care‌ of you.

And⁠‌ Fernan Pellenberg would‍​ never be foolish‍ enough to be‌⁠⁠ like that idiot​‍ in the fable​‌ who cut open‌‌​ the goose’s belly.‍⁠⁠

— Though, if it‌‍ has to lay‌‌ too many golden‌⁠⁠ eggs, it might​‍​ lose all its‌‍⁠ feathers.

Gardner‍⁠ let out an‍‍ awkward laugh.

— As long as⁠‍⁠ you become emperor,‍ I don’t think​ that will ruin⁠⁠ you.

“……”‌‌‍

Why‌ does none of​ that comfort me?‌​

“Are​ you awake?”

Someone​⁠​ knocked on the‍​⁠ door. Dawn was‌ just beginning to‍ break outside.

“Yes.”⁠‍​

“A‍⁠​ letter has arrived⁠ from House Armian.”⁠

The⁠‍‍ servant handed him⁠‌⁠ the letter and⁠ left.

“A​‌ letter?”

Aint​​‌ took it curiously.‍⁠​ It bore his⁠‍⁠ father’s official seal.​​

It‍‍‍ was the first⁠‍​ time he had​⁠ ever received a letter from him.⁠⁠‌

— Did something serious​ happen? Open it.​​

“Alright.”​

[It’s‍‌ been a long⁠‌ time since I last saw your‌‍ face. I heard​‍​ you captured two​ demons in the‍ Kingdom of Linelt.‍‍

I’m⁠⁠ very proud of‌⁠ you… (omitted) …Your‍​ dream of becoming⁠ emperor may not​⁠ be so impossible⁠ after all…]

After‌​ the greetings and⁠‌ some lines about⁠ recent events, the​​ main content was⁠​ something Aint would‍ have never expected.⁠

[Thanks‍‍‍ to your achievements,‌​‍ I have become‍ the Count of‍​ Kool.]

“…Count‌‌ of Kool?”

— Coul? Daniel Kool?⁠

As‍‌‍ soon as he⁠ read the name,‌‌​ Daniel Kool came‌​ to mind.

The⁠ parasite who had​‌ manipulated the empire‌‌​ and nearly destroyed‍​‍ its diplomatic relations‍​ with other nations.⁠​

— Don’t tell me​ this turned out⁠‍ just like Fernan‌‌ said.

“…It‍‌ did.”

When​ Daniel Kool died‍​ and the territory‌‌ was left without‌ a lord, Fernan‌‍‍ had casually mentioned‌⁠⁠ that it would​‌​ be a good​‍​ idea for Armian⁠​​ to take those​‌ lands.

Aint‍‌‌ had laughed at‍ the time, thinking​⁠⁠ it was impossible.‌‍‍

— Is this for‌⁠ real?

— Read more! In‍​ detail!

The⁠⁠ County of Kool‌ was famous for‌⁠ its distilleries and‍⁠ wineries, a land​ that produced the⁠ best liquor brands​‍ on the continent.‍​‍

A true goldmine, coveted‍ by all nobles.‍

How‌ had Armian managed‌​ to seize such​ a valuable territory,​ with no influence⁠‌ or political power?⁠

[Your‍⁠⁠ participation was decisive.‍⁠ You…]

The‌⁠ letter explained the⁠ process in detail,‍​​ listing three main‍⁠ reasons.

First,‌ Aint Armian’s merits.⁠​⁠

After‌‍‌ taking down not​‌ only Andrealphus but⁠‍‌ also Valac and‍ Andras, his fame‍‌​ had soared.

Second,‍‌ the tensions between‍ the prince-electors and‍ the nobility.

None​⁠​ of them wanted​‌ their rivals to‍⁠ gain control of​ the territory, so‍‍⁠ they opted to​ give it to⁠ the weak and⁠‌ “safe” House Armian.‌​

And‍ third, Pellenberg’s intervention.‌ Under his leadership,‍‌‍ houses like Fridian,⁠ Altrierc, and Bercheff⁠‌‌ supported the proposal.​

All‌‍​ of that combined​​ to produce the⁠‍ final result—the coveted‌​ County of Coul‍ ended up in​ Armian’s hands.

“…In‌‌ the end, it​⁠ was also thanks​‌ to Senior.”

— Exactly. No matter​ how high your⁠⁠ prestige, without Pellenberg’s⁠ help you never​ would’ve gotten it.‌

Though,​‍ of course, Aint’s​‌ feats in defeating​ the two demons​ were the final‌‌​ blow.

— Yeah, Fernan clearly⁠​‍ sees you as‌⁠‌ a goose that⁠⁠ lays golden eggs…‌‍⁠

“I‌⁠ have to wield‍⁠‌ my sword!”

After‍ all, there was​‌⁠ no better way‌​‌ to overcome fear‌⁠ than training with‌ the sword.

***‌

“It’s‌⁠ Gismond!”

“Lord​ Gismond!”

He‌‍ was gaining popularity.‍⁠⁠

Gismond⁠⁠​ felt it clearly.‍​

After⁠​ the disaster in‍‌ the capital, the‍ knights and soldiers‍⁠​ who had witnessed⁠ his actions began‌ spreading stories about​‍ him.

His‍‌​ name even appeared​⁠‌ in a small‍ corner of the​ newspaper.

It‍⁠‍ was insignificant compared⁠ to Aint or⁠⁠​ Luina, the two⁠‌ overhumans, but still⁠⁠​ enough for some​‌ people to start‍‌‌ recognizing him on⁠‍ the street.

Gismond​‍ smiled happily.

He’d⁠ never felt anything‌⁠ like this—not even​⁠⁠ in Korea.

Was‍‍‌ being famous really‌‌ not so bad‌‌ after all?

‘No,‌‌ no, Gismond. Focus.‌​​ Did you already‍​ forget what happened‍ that day?’

He​⁠​ shook his head‍ urgently.

The⁠‌⁠ memories were still​​ there, etched like⁠‌⁠ a nightmare.

When​⁠ he was being‍‌‌ chased by monsters⁠⁠ and screamed for⁠‌‍ help, no reinforcements‌⁠ came.

He⁠ barely escaped and​ climbed to the‍‌​ roof of a half-destroyed building, hoping‌ to spot the⁠​ kingdom’s troops—and then​⁠​ he saw them.⁠

Those⁠ bastards chatting away⁠ casually!

There​ was no way‌​‌ Fernan, the Mercenary‍‌​ King, and the‌ headmaster didn’t hear‍‍ his voice echoing​​‍ through the whole‌ area.

They​‍ had ignored him‍‌ on purpose.

The⁠ betrayal he felt‍​ in that moment⁠​ was indescribable, and‌⁠⁠ when he went​​​ to complain, Fernan’s‌‍ response was the⁠ worst possible.

“Are​‌ you alive? Then​‍‍ it’s all fine.”‍​

“That‍‌ damn Fernan!”

‘If⁠​ only I’d been​⁠​ a bit stronger…!’‌

But⁠ remembering what he‌⁠‌ saw when Fernan‌ fought the demon,‍ he understood that​ being “a bit⁠ stronger” wouldn’t have​ been enough.

He‍ would’ve needed to⁠ be much stronger—stronger‍​⁠ than Fernan himself.‌‍⁠

‘…Even⁠⁠ then, I would’ve​⁠ held back.’

Because⁠ Fernan’s true power‌ wasn’t his physical‍‌ strength, but his⁠​ money, his influence,​⁠​ and his connections.​⁠​

How‌⁠ many people could‌ summon two overhumans​​ whenever they wanted?‍

‘The​‍ novel also mentioned‍ that the Pellenberg⁠ Family had a Royal Knight and​ an Archmage.’

If⁠⁠​ you added those‌‍ two, Fernan could​‍ move four overhumans​‍ at once.

The‌‍​ real puppeteer behind‍⁠⁠ the scenes.

‘…Though​​ I have improved‍​ quite a bit.’‍

Every‌ time he followed‍​⁠ Fernan, he ended‌‌‍ up on the⁠‌ brink of death,‌​⁠ but somehow always‍ came out stronger.‍‍​

‘I’m⁠‌⁠ no Nietzsche, but…’⁠​​

What‌‌ doesn’t kill you⁠ makes you stronger.‍‍‍

“Th-Thank‍⁠ you.”

Suddenly,⁠‌ someone stopped in‌​ front of him.​

A beautiful woman with‌‍ long blonde hair,⁠⁠ light green eyes,‌ and porcelain-white skin.⁠‍

She‌‌ held a bouquet⁠‍ of flowers in‍‌‍ her hands.

“Me?”‌

“I‍ heard you fought‌​ for us. I wanted to express‌ my gratitude, even‌ if just a little…”

“Ah.”​‍​

Gismond,‌​ flustered, accepted the‌⁠ flowers.

“Thank⁠‍ you.”

And‍⁠ that was all​​​ it took.

Once​⁠‍ the woman took⁠ the first step,​​​ the others—who had​‌‍ held back out​‌ of respect—eagerly approached.‍‍‌

“Please​​ accept my gift⁠​⁠ too!”

“Could​​​ you tell us⁠‍ exactly what happened‌ in the capital?”​‍⁠

“What‍‍ was the demon⁠ like?”

“Lord⁠​ Gismond, you’re so⁠‌⁠ handsome!”

‘…Maybe​ following Fernan isn’t‍ such a bad‍⁠‌ idea after all.’⁠‍‍

Surrounded‌​‍ by the crowd,‍‍​ Gismond grinned from‌⁠ ear to ear.‌‌

***‍‌​

“Ugh…”​⁠

He‍ woke up with‌ intense thirst and‍⁠ hunger.

His‍ vision was dark,‌⁠‍ damp air brushed‍⁠​ against his skin.⁠

“Where…‌‌​ am I?”

He​ tried to move,⁠‌ but the sound⁠ of metal stopped⁠ him.

Clank—‌‌

He‌ was shackled. Why?⁠​‌

He‌​ tried channeling mana,​⁠ but it wouldn’t‍⁠⁠ respond.

The⁠ shackles seemed designed‌⁠ to suppress magical⁠​ energy.

“Why‌‌ am I…?”

In⁠ this situation? Who‍‌ dared do this‌⁠⁠ to him?

“Who⁠‍‍ the hell dares⁠⁠‌ shackle me!?”

He⁠⁠​ shouted with force.⁠​

His⁠⁠​ voice echoed in‍ what seemed to‍ be a small‍​ underground cell.

Shortly‍⁠​ after.

Clunk…⁠​ Creeeeak—

A huge iron door​ opened,

and⁠‍ someone entered.

“Oh,⁠ you’re finally awake.”⁠​

“Who‍⁠ are you?! How⁠‍‌ dare you?!”

It‍​​ was too dark⁠‍ to see his‍ face, and his‌​‌ voice was unfamiliar.‍‌‍

“Ah,‍​‌ calm down. We​⁠‌ haven’t kidnapped or‍ imprisoned you. Nor‍ have we bound⁠⁠‍ you against your‍‌​ will.”

“And​​ I’m just supposed‌⁠ to believe that!?”​‍‍

“Seems⁠ there’s a misunderstanding.‌‍‍ Don’t you remember‌⁠ anything?”

“Remember?”‌⁠⁠

“Yes,​‍ your last memory.”‍

At​ those words, he‌ forced his mind‌⁠​ to go back.⁠​ The fragments slowly⁠‍​ began to resurface.​⁠​

The‍⁠‌ moment of victory‌ at the Grand‍⁠ Magic Tournament.

Professor⁠ Dominique’s congratulations, and‌‍‌ the talk about​⁠‌ a new theory‌‍‌ of illusion magic.‌⁠⁠

“Ugh…”​

Carlo​​ brought a hand⁠⁠‌ to his head;​‍ a sharp pain⁠ pierced through.

“I​ was… hypnotized…”

When‌ he looked into‌‍‍ Professor Dominique’s eyes,​⁠⁠ the demonic energy​‌ hidden within had‍ taken control of​ his mind.

He​‍‌ tried to resist,⁠‍ but it was​ already too deeply‌ embedded.

“Good‌‌ to hear you​ remember.”

“…What‌‍ exactly happened?”

“Professor‌ Dominique was corrupt.​‍ He summoned the‌ 65th demon, Andrealphus,‌ and you, Carlo⁠ Deneb, fought on​‌⁠ his side.”

“I-Impossible!”‍

Carlo​ denied it forcefully,​‌ but deep down​‌⁠ he knew it‍ was true.

The‍‌​ hazy memories of​ that mental control​​​ still floated in⁠⁠ his mind.

“It’ll​ be easier if⁠⁠‌ you see it‍⁠⁠ yourself.”

The​‌‌ man took out‍ a magic register​‌‌ and channeled mana‍ into it.

An​‍ image appeared—Carlo, with⁠‌‍ lifeless eyes, fighting​‌ Verian Kalburdern and​‍ Gismond Ert.

“…That‍‍ was really me?”​‍

“Yes.‍​ But don’t worry​​ too much. Very‌⁠ few people know‍⁠​ this truth.”

Most‌ of the attention‌‌ had been focused​‌ on the demon⁠‍⁠ invasion, so almost⁠ no one knew‌⁠‌ Carlo had been⁠⁠⁠ controlled by a demon.

“Just⁠‌‌ three people.”

He​ held up three⁠‍‌ fingers.

“The⁠⁠ two you fought,​ and Lord Fernan.”‌⁠

“Fernan?⁠⁠‌ Did you say‌ Fernan?”

At⁠‌ that name, a chill ran down‍ Carlo’s spine.

He‍​ felt like prey‌ caught in a predator’s trap.

“Lord​‍‍ Fernan took pity‌⁠ on you. That’s​‍ why he chose​ to keep this⁠ a secret and​⁠ ordered you be‍⁠​ treated here.”

“Treated?‍⁠‍ Like this?”

“We‍‌‍ had no choice.⁠ You lost control‍​ multiple times due‌ to the demonic‍ hypnosis. And we⁠ couldn’t allow you⁠‍ to kill us​ while we were​‌‍ trying to cure‌‌ you, right?”

“…How⁠⁠ long was I unconscious?”

“Let’s‌​ see…”

The​ man counted on‍‍ his fingers.

“About‌ two months, maybe.”‍​

“That⁠ long?”

“Yes.⁠ And we were‌​‍ just starting to‍⁠‌ have problems. We’ve‌ tried to hide‍‍​ your condition, but‌ your family has⁠⁠ sent several letters​‍ asking about you.”⁠‍​

“Luckily,‍‌‍ you woke up‌​ just in time.”‌

The‌⁠ man smiled kindly.‌⁠

“…And⁠ what exactly do‌⁠‌ you want?”

“Pardon?”‍‌‍

“I‌ know you’re a servant of Fernan.⁠ And I know​​ he’d never do‍ this for free.”‌

“‘Servant’​ is a harsh⁠ word, but not‌‌ entirely wrong.”

“What​​⁠ Lord Fernan wants‌‍ isn’t anything difficult.​ In fact, it‍‌​ might be something​​ you want as‍ well.”

“You‍‍ talk too much.”​‍

“Before⁠⁠ I say it,‍ let me show‌ you something.”

He‍‍‍ pulled out another‌ magic register.

“Do‌​​ you know why‍‍​ Verian Kalburdern, former​ subordinate of Ludger‌ Schwaben, ended up‌ becoming a close⁠⁠ friend of Aint​‌​ Armian?”

“What‍ does that have⁠ to do with‌‍ anything?”

A reasonable question.

Many​‍ at the Academy‍‌‍ had wondered the‌‍‌ same—how that guy,​ defeated by Aint‌‌⁠ and scorned by‍‌ Ludger, suddenly became​ one of his‌ best friends.

“Lord⁠‌ Fernan only wants⁠‌‌ one thing from‌⁠ you.”

The‍​⁠ man smiled and‍​ activated the register.⁠​

“To​​ do the same⁠ thing Verian Kalburdern‌‍‌ did.”

The‌ image began to‌‌⁠ play—the battle between​⁠​ Aint and Verian,‌⁠ infected by demonic⁠‍‌ energy.

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