Chapter 259

The Bell of Pasa.

It is said that when its sound rings out, monsters vanish and demons lose much of their power.

Of course, it wasn’t as if a single chime would make monsters disappear, but if it at least weakened demonic energy, that was already extremely useful.

And finally, it was finished.

“Is it really true?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

The Pope continued speaking.

“In theory, it was rebuilt exactly as described in the ancient texts. Though it hasn’t yet been tested in practice.”

They couldn’t test it—there were no demons near the Cult of the Dragon God.

And if there were, it would mean the Empire had fallen that very day.

“You know that next week is the Electors’ Conference, right?
At that meeting, they’ll discuss where to install the Bell of Pasa. Where do you think it should be placed?”

“Of course, on the front line.”

“And do you know exactly where the front line is?”

“No, I don’t.”

He didn’t know for sure, but he had a hunch.

The prophecy mentioned a single word—north.

At first, Fernan thought it referred to the north of Bercheff, a region infested with monsters, always on the brink of chaos.

In fact, in the past, armies of demons and beasts had descended from there.

But the vision Fernan had when he obtained that sacred text showed a moment much further in the future.

‘If we exclude the north of Bercheff, then…’

Beyond that lay the northern kingdoms.

Perhaps the end of the world the prophecy spoke of would begin precisely there.

After the Linelt incident, he couldn’t be sure those kingdoms hadn’t already been infiltrated by the corrupt.

That’s why he wanted to place the Bell of Pasa in the Kingdom of Linelt.

If the demons began moving from the north, that would be the first place to be attacked—and also the source he could keep “squeezing” for a long time.

‘But it’ll be impossible.’

The Bell of Pasa was an imperial relic, a sacred symbol of the Empire.

No one would allow it to be installed in foreign territory.

“Right. If we consider the demons appearing everywhere, there really is no clearly defined main front.”

For those who didn’t know the future, that was reasonable.

So, in theory, placing it anywhere made sense.

“I’m sure the electors will choose the right location.”

Even though he said that, Fernan was already thinking of another plan—to ensure the Bell of Pasa was installed in Linelt, no matter what.

‘Most of the materials used to make it were supplied by Pellenberg.’

Actually, by himself—though under his house’s name.

‘Therefore, Pellenberg holds primary rights over the Bell.’

And if it wasn’t something completely absurd, his opinion would carry weight in the final decision.

‘If I can obtain proof that the northern kingdoms are under corrupt influence…’

‘If I show that demons and beasts are descending from there…’

Then he could fully justify installing the Bell of Pasa in the Kingdom of Linelt—or at least on the northern border of the Empire.

And if he managed to place it there, he could extract even more benefits from Linelt.

‘I’ll have to meet with my father.’

He would gain time to delay the official decision on its location, and meanwhile gather the necessary evidence.

Without fail.

‘I will never allow the Kingdom of Linelt to fall.’

With the investment he had made there, how could he let it collapse before getting his return?

***

The Cult of the Dragon God had two special secondary palaces.

They were residences meant for participants of the Grand Duel of the Dragon God, and they usually remained unoccupied.

But this time, one of them had a special guest.

“So, what do you think of life in the Cult?”

The new resident, Rosalia Vienderk, who would occupy the room for a week, extended her hand without a word.

Fernan placed in her palm an elegant wooden box with fine cigarettes.

Rosalia brought one to her lips and lit it.

“Isn’t smoking prohibited inside the Cult?”

“Don’t be so uptight. In places where there are no rules, even an emperor can curse.”

She exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and sighed in relief.

The smoke, charged with magical energy, dispersed without leaving a trace or causing any harm.

“How does it feel?”

“Up until a moment ago, terrible.”

“And now?”

“Wonderful.”

“That cigarette contains no addictive substances.”

“You’re still just as picky. After hunting two demons, you could at least be a little more relaxed.”

Rosalia finished the cigarette in seconds, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and took another.

“It was Aint who killed the demons.”

“Please, spare me those lies.”

Rosalia let out a sarcastic laugh.

“So, when will you let me dissect you?”

“…I’d prefer if you stopped saying such horrible things.”

“Don’t you find it curious? Aint Armian inherited his power by blood, but you—you got it suddenly, without any explanation. And to this day, you’ve refused to tell me the cause.”

“It’s because of the Dragon Heart.”

The cigarette slipped from her lips.

Before it hit the ground, a swirl of sand gently caught it.

“You almost ruined a very expensive rug.”

“And I nearly wasted a good cigarette.”

Rosalia calmly picked it up and resumed smoking.

“That’s the excuse you came up with?”

“What do you mean?”

“After defeating Flauros and returning to the Academy, I asked you several times. And you never answered. That you do so only now can mean just one thing.”

“That I finally found a believable excuse?”

“Exactly. I know you too well.”

“What a tiring relationship we have.”

“But the part about the Dragon Heart is true.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible…”

Professor Rosalia Vienderk’s eyes opened wide. It was probably the day she had shown the most expressions in her entire life.

“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.”

“After this duel, come to my lab.”

“And who would go, when you make it so obvious you want to dissect me?”

“I’m not going.”

Fernan shook his head firmly.

“A Dragon Heart, you say? Does that mean dragons really existed?”

“Of course. Aren’t there religions that worship them and records that mention them on multiple occasions?”

“I don’t believe in anything I haven’t seen with my own eyes.”

She replied in a calm voice. In any case.

“Then, are you saying that Armian’s power also comes from a dragon? That the first emperor had a connection with them? And what’s the link between demons and dragons that demons would call them adversaries?”

Once a mage’s curiosity was ignited, nothing could stop it.

Fernan, knowing she could get trapped in an endless spiral of theories, clapped his hands right in front of her face, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“That doesn’t matter now, does it? If you lose this duel, you won’t be able to try again for ten years.”

To prevent reckless challenges, any aspirant who failed to reach the rank of Royal Knight or Archmage had to wait a decade before trying again.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of losing.”

“I believe you.”

Fernan trusted that Rosalia would win with pride, but since her opponent was another Archmage, anxiety was inevitable.

“And you? Have you got everything ready?”

“I managed to convince the rector. The rest is up to him.”

“If you’ve already persuaded him, that’s half the battle.”

“And the other half?”

“That I become an Archmage.”

Rosalia had waited for this moment for years.

She tossed Fernan a stack of documents—they were all the reports and data on her opponent, Bador Erbeto.

She had finished all her preparations.

“Trust me, Fernan.”

“I’ll prove to you that your investments never fail.”

“Yes, I trust you. You must become an Archmage, professor.”

Become an Archmage, then rector of the Academy, and beyond that.

“Because you still have to reach the dream you desire so much.”

For her, becoming Archmage or rector were just intermediate steps.

She wouldn’t stop halfway.

Never.

***

【Professor Rosalia Vienderk of the Imperial Armian Academy challenges for the rank of Archmage. Will a new Archmage be born?】

“…Interesting.”

Duke Gransis lowered the newspaper with a marked smile on his face.

His butler approached with a glass of wine and a tray of light cheese.

“Well said. That’s what’s expected of Vienderk blood.”

“The young lady has finally done it, my lord.”

“Rosalia never attempts anything without a real chance. She will become an Archmage.”

With that, the Vienderk lineage would have three superhumans among their ranks—a Royal Knight and two Archmages.

“That means our family will have more superhumans than Pellenberg or even Schwaben.”

“Congratulations, my lord. This is a great day for House Vienderk.”

“Vienderk will rise higher than ever. Higher than Pellenberg, higher than Schwaben.”

And, of course, far higher than that ruined house now trying to rise again using the demon upheaval as an excuse—Armian.

The butler, after setting down the tray, handed him a report.

“What is this?”

“A confidential report. Rector Michael Montella is pushing the young lady as a candidate for succession to the position of rector.”

“So in the end, she aims to become rector. She could never have persuaded Montella alone—that must be Fernan’s doing.”

“Then there’s a real possibility she’ll succeed.”

“Perhaps.”

“The council for electing a rector is composed of ten voters, correct?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Seven electors, the head of the Knights Department, the head of the Magic Department, and the vice-rector.

Among them, both the current head of the Magic Department and the vice-rector were under Pellenberg’s strong influence.

That already counted as two votes.

Fridian, one of the electors, maintained close friendship with Pellenberg, and the Cult of the Dragon God usually supported whoever contributed the most financially.

With Pellenberg included, that made three more.

Five in total. Exactly half.

But still one was missing to obtain the majority.

Schwaben, of course, would vote for their own candidate.

Altrierc, though allied with Pellenberg, had recently been receiving “favors” from Schwaben.

The head of the Knights Department was also under Schwaben’s patronage.

In conclusion, the only remaining vote that could decide everything was Vienderk’s.

Or so he thought, until the butler interrupted.

“Not exactly, my lord.”

“Hm?”

“Have you forgotten Armian?”

“…Right. Armian.”

Since it had withdrawn to its own domain, House Armian had remained neutral, abstaining from voting in the last two rector elections.

That’s why the duke had overlooked it.

“I doubt they’ll abstain this time.”

“It is said that Aint Armian and Fernan Pellenberg share a very close friendship.”

They had appeared together in several newspaper articles, and the duke himself, after meeting them, knew their relationship wasn’t bad.

“Even if it’s not friendship, just look at the facts—Armian has begun forming a considerable army. And where do you think that money came from? Who could have lent them such a sum all at once?”

If Pellenberg used that debt to pressure Armian to vote for Rosalia, would they be able to refuse?

Impossible.

“Well…”

Then it was nearly certain.

“She will become rector.”

No matter the objections of the others.

For Vienderk, having Rosalia as rector wasn’t a negative outcome either.

But if their vote really were decisive, they would’ve used it to negotiate with Pellenberg or Schwaben.

“…What a pity.”

“If the young lady becomes rector, she’ll return to the family. The lady won’t sit idly by.”

“I don’t care.”

The duke replied without the slightest hesitation.

“Back then, I made that decision because it was the right thing to do. But now…”

He looked out the window, deep in thought.

“I’m not sure that Rosalia, even as Archmage and future rector, holds the same value as before.”

He always made the best possible decision.

The one that would bring the most prosperity to the family.

The one that would elevate Vienderk to its greatest glory.

“The problem is, I no longer know whether the current Rosalia belongs to Vienderk or to Pellenberg.”

He murmured in a grave voice.

His voice was lost in the silence, as deep as his doubt.