Chapter 79

Aint played the recording orb he had received from Fernan.

A roar of cheers filled the stadium, shouted by thousands of voices.

— His Majesty the Emperor!

All that ovation was directed at the sovereign of that nation.

“…That man.”

— That is the current Emperor.

The Emperor had blonde hair as bright as Aint’s and piercing gray eyes.

His robust build resembled that of a warrior.

Even through the recording, the aura of power and dignity surrounding him matched the word “Emperor” perfectly.

“……”

If just seeing him through a recording conveyed so much, what must it have been like to witness him in person?

Aint swallowed hard.

The Emperor slowly raised his hand to his subjects and began to speak. Each word he uttered dripped with such majesty that it inspired loyalty even in those who had none.

— Judging by presence alone, I can almost understand why the Armians lost the throne.

— After all, nine hundred years in power was too much. Sooner or later, someone capable was bound to rise and take it.

“Eh?”

Aint tilted his head, confused. Those words clashed with everything Gardner had said until now.

— What surprises you?

— Objectively speaking, the Schwaben took the throne because they did a better job. Of course, you could also say the Armians failed.

But deep down, that wasn’t the point.

— Not even the First Emperor expected the Armians to keep the throne forever.

— At most, three hundred years. The fact that they held it for nine hundred far exceeded any expectations.

The structure of the Empire explained it.

— To defeat the demons, the divided kingdoms had to be united. But who would agree to become a vassal in exchange for vague promises?

For an independent kingdom to join the Empire, it had to receive something equal to or greater in value than its own crown.

Not illusions—but tangible rewards.

“And that was the throne?”

— Exactly.

A system where one could be a vassal, but with the hope that their descendants might someday ascend the imperial throne.

Thus, the current Empire was born.

— Some opposed it, of course. But at that time, humanity’s survival was more urgent than preserving the Armian crown.

Even so, the fact that the Armians held on for nine hundred years was almost miraculous.

— It was a testament to the greatness of the First Emperor. And also proof that his descendants weren’t as incompetent as some might believe.

At the very least, none had shamefully tarnished his name. Gardner murmured softly.

“…Then why did you tell me the Schwaben were usurpers?”

— Because I’m not a servant of the Empire. I serve the Armians.

And that made all the difference.

— Even if the throne can belong to anyone, I wanted—and still want—it to remain with the Armians.

That was why Gardner became the ego of a sword. To stop the return of the demons and save humanity.

— If we don’t stop them, all the First Emperor’s sacrifice will be for nothing.

And if the Armians had already lost the throne, then he would return it to them.

— That’s why I will make you Emperor.

It was his last form of loyalty.

Faced with that weight, Aint said nothing.

“…Why do so much for me?”

— Because the First Emperor saved my life when I was sick and starving.

— What’s wrong? Feeling uncomfortable now? Planning to reject me?

“It is uncomfortable. But I won’t reject you.”

Aint couldn’t fully grasp the depth of a loyalty that had lasted a thousand years.

Was it devotion—or obsession? Perhaps both.

But as an Armian heir, he couldn’t deny it felt like an honor.

“In the end, we want the same thing.”

And since Gardner’s will aligned with his own, he had no reason to push him away.

— I thought you were still a child, but clearly not. You are worthy of your Armian bloodline.

“That throne should be mine.”

Aint fixed his gaze on the image of the Emperor within the orb.

“And I can’t stay a child if I want to claim it.”

Even if the First Emperor had foreseen this.

Even if losing the throne was inevitable.

Aint didn’t care.

He had grown up hearing that the crown rightfully belonged to the Armians.

The orb continued to play the scene. Soon, the rector and Professor Rosalia appeared on the stage.

“This is it.”

By then, Aint, Fernan, and Aria were already seated in the stands. That was when the news of the massive monster attack broke.

The rector canceled the announcement about the corrupted.

If students heard that corrupted had infiltrated the Academy just as a monster army was devastating the borders, panic would be inevitable.

— There’s nothing you can do now. As that merchant said, the best thing is to wait.

“I know.”

He had already decided that himself.

Even if the Academy was filled with tension, the students wouldn’t be mobilized. The Empire wasn’t so weak that it needed students for a real war.

— Though… you never know. They might ask for volunteers under the pretense of offering experience.

“Could be.”

That was perfectly plausible at the Academy.

***

The inquisitors’ contact had been predictable.

Even the fact that the head inquisitor himself came to Aint.

What no one expected was that a wave of monsters would emerge from the Taklakan Desert—and even less that magical beasts would be among them.

Because monsters and magical beasts were different. And their combined assault posed a far greater threat than a simple stampede.

‘So they’re moving in broad daylight, now that they’ve been discovered?’

Maybe they preferred to wipe out an entire fiefdom with their army rather than wait to be exposed.

‘Or has the timeline changed? Or was it always like this?’

He didn’t know. Whether it was a result of his interference, or if it had always been that way.

Just knowing that would’ve helped him prepare.

‘In any case, there’s nothing I can do now…’

It was a matter far from the Academy, and a war of this scale would be handled by his father.

And in doing so, his father would make a fortune. Because war always brought profit.

‘I’m jealous.’

If only that profit were his.

But it was still too early to covet it. The war would grow, and with it, more opportunities would arise.

‘I could even found my own merchant company in times like these…’

But thinking it was different from doing it. The Golden Turtle Company backed him, and starting from scratch in a barren desert was absurd.

His father would never allow it.

‘For now, from the Academy’s branch, we’ll buy all the weapons, armor, and artifacts we can.’

At least that much authority had been granted to him.

And once he’d resolved that, his mind returned to the report.

‘Gismond wasn’t a corrupt. Was he really not?’

Aint had confirmed it through Gardner.

Then what was he?

Why had he suddenly appeared and disrupted everything?

‘Did he really get that strong just from elixirs—right to the brink of exploding?’

Was he insane?

He didn’t seem like it.

The only explanation was that he had found a large amount by sheer luck and consumed them recklessly, stopping just before dying.

But even that didn’t fully add up.

‘And they weren’t even all the same type.’

He couldn’t have obtained them all at once, and they didn’t come from Count Vamond either.

That fiefdom lacked the resources.

So where did they come from?

‘Damn it, what a pain. Everything about him is a mystery.’

— Kyu?

Fernan, lost in thought, felt something touch his cheek.

It was Wuden, who had taken his doll form and was looking at him worriedly from the collar.

“…I’m fine. Just thinking.”

— Kyu?

“Really. You’re the only one here, so go play a bit if you want.”

The golem leapt off the table with a thud that cracked the marble floor.

“Stop! Do you know how much that marble costs?!”

And then—

──!

A lightning bolt shot through his mind.

A chill ran down his spine, followed by an unbearable headache.

“Urgh…!”

Fernan realized what had finally arrived.

Maybe because he had anticipated it, even though the pain was intense, it was bearable.

Inside his mind, the prophecy book unfolded.

[Rumors of the horde of monsters and magical beasts that burst from the Taklakan Desert spread throughout the Empire.

The Academy was no exception.

“The rector has decided to send students to the front lines—only those who volunteer.”

The Academy officially decided to dispatch students to the battlefield.

“Decide carefully. The professors will accompany and assist as much as possible, but on the battlefield, everyone must look after their own life.”

The warning that they could lose their lives stirred the students.

— Go. You must go, no matter what.

‘Yeah, I know. I can’t let this opportunity slip by.’

And at the same time, some were filled with determination.

‘So it ends up like this.’

It made sense. The rector was one of the few who knew that what had happened wasn’t due to the corrupted, but to demons.

He would have deduced that Andromalius wasn’t the end, but the beginning.

Sending students to the front was a way to prepare them for the great war looming ahead. The difference between having and lacking real experience would be enormous.

[“…What a nuisance.”

“Your Highness?”

“Aint Armian, a descendant of the Armians, heading to war against monsters. That’s the kind of story that drives the people wild.”

Ludger Schwaben’s eyes turned cold. It wasn’t a trivial exaggeration.

The monsters had returned after a thousand years, and an Armian was marching against them.

Letting that go unchecked was unthinkable. The result was too obvious.

“Bring me the request form. I’ll go as well.”

Aint had to be eliminated, no matter what.

Noblesse oblige. As crown prince, the highest rank beneath the Emperor, he would personally join the front lines.]

‘Of course Ludger would act this way. He’s no fool.’

[“What is this…?”

“A spirit plant?”

“There’s a spirit plant over here!”

The stem radiated pure, gleaming mana.

“I found it, so it’s mine.”

The one who discovered it was Ludger Schwaben. By rule, what one found belonged to the finder, so his claim was valid.

He took the fruit, while the stripped plant looked desolate.

— He only took the fruit?

‘Is that strange?’

— Of course! The fruit of the Itarium is a powerful elixir, but the root is even more valuable. Itarium grows by absorbing mana from the land—the essential part is in the roots…

— Has no one spread that knowledge in a thousand years? Even better. Aint, take the root in secret.

— Also, wherever Itarium grows, there’s always a nearby vein. It feeds off the mineral’s energy.

‘A vein?’

There was no such thing as a useless vein. Even through the throbbing pain, Fernan’s eyes lit up.

Suddenly, the vision shifted—even the perspective changed.

[“The Academy has brought students under the pretense of giving them real-world experience.”

“Real experience? How decadent. Peace has made them soft.”

The man laughed mockingly.

“Aint Armian is among them.”

“Aint Armian…?”

His eyes widened.

An Armian. The natural enemy of demons. The cursed bloodline.

“This is an opportunity…”

Bang!

The man slammed the table. Papers, an inkwell, and a golden ashtray marked with stellar symbols fell to the floor.

“A perfect chance to devour not only Aint Armian, but the entire future of the Empire!”

The Academy was known as the cradle of the Empire. Its future leaders were raised there.

That’s why they had tried to destroy it by summoning even the 72nd demon, Andromalius—and had failed.

But if they succeeded this time…

“I’ll receive an even greater blessing!”

The man didn’t hide his euphoria.

“Contact His Excellency immediately and request support. Even if we lose everything, we must exterminate everyone the Academy has sent! Especially that damned Aint Armian!”

His crazed scream echoed through the chamber.

“Heheh… After being trapped here for so long, finally—a reward.”

He pulled open the curtains.

Between the folds, the silhouette of a colossal bell appeared. It was a cursed object that had once tormented demons.

He had made that place his den, waiting for the chance to destroy it.]

For the first time, Fernan saw a prophecy from someone else’s perspective—that of a corrupt.

“…”

‘So the book doesn’t limit itself to Aint’s point of view.’

It was possible. Chronicles were rarely told from just one viewpoint, even if there was a main character.

“Wait a second…”

Fernan replayed the scene in his mind.

[Between the parted curtains, a gigantic bell could be seen. A cursed weapon, created to fight demons.

To destroy it, he had made that place his lair.]

A bell. A cursed weapon. Its destruction.

He didn’t need any more clues.

“I think I know where it is.”

In the Empire, there was a bell left behind by the First Emperor—a weapon forged to fight demons.

When he opened his eyes, Wooden, now in his doll-sized form, was wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

— Kyu?

He tapped the floor nervously, worried something might be wrong.

“Stop it, Wooden. You’ll crack the marble.”

— Kkung?

“I’m fine. Thanks for wiping my sweat.”

But something else was more important.

“Maybe soon, you’ll get the chance to be unleashed again. Didn’t you want to return to your original form and fight one more time?”

Fernan’s eyes gleamed with fierce determination.

— Kkung kkung!

Wooden nodded enthusiastically.