Chapter 85

Why wasn’t it there?

Why had it disappeared?

Why?

Why the hell?

‘…….’

Until now, the prophecy book had never been wrong.

Well, yes, once or twice—but that had only been due to the butterfly effect Fernan himself had triggered.

But this time was different.

The elixir should have been firmly rooted in the rock, and there was no reason for it to suddenly vanish.

Had it never existed in the first place?

‘Does that even make sense…?’

Lately, he had been relying too much on the prophecy book, and he knew it—but how could he not?

Even when altered a little by his own actions, everything it narrated was true.

‘Could it be…?’

Fernan hastily infused mana into his eyes.

And then he understood.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t there.

On one of the rock walls, there was a hole—a crevice that ran deep, as if roots had grown there.

Not only had the leaves and fruit been taken, but even the tiniest root. Nothing remained.

‘Which damned bastard dared to steal what’s mine…!’

“…Is something wrong?”

Seeing Fernan staring silently at the destroyed rock, one of the patrol members asked, puzzled.

“…Looks like there are strange marks over there.”

“Over there…?”

“It’s true, looks like something was embedded and was torn out. Could it be a monster?”

The soldiers began to examine the traces, but beyond concluding that something had been rooted there, they couldn’t deduce anything else.

“Looks more like a plant had taken root… but how could a root pierce through rock?”

“Then it must have been torn out by a monster or a beast.”

Since the Itarium was an extremely rare plant, none of the soldiers recognized what had been there just from the marks.

“We’d better head back. We’ve checked enough.”

“Alright.”

And with that, the patrol ended.

***

Everyone was asleep.

Professor Grad had ordered rotating watch duty so the students could also experience that part, and Fernan immediately volunteered for the first shift.

Sitting by the fire, he watched the flames dance as he thought.

The disappearance of the Itarium could only be due to two possibilities.

‘Either my actions caused a butterfly effect and someone else found it first…’

Or—

‘For the first time, the prophecy book was wrong.’

The marks on the rock proved the Itarium had existed.

But what if the book didn’t follow the normal flow of time? What if Aint had found the Itarium much earlier, and because of my interference, it was delayed so much that someone else took it first?

‘But then, wouldn’t it be stranger that up until now, everything had matched the timeline…?’

A sharp pain pierced his head.

‘It’s another variable. But it’s not the first one.’

The sudden summoning of Andromalius had been one.

The unexpected appearance of Gismond Ert, which ruined my wager plans, had been another.

‘…Wait.’

Gismond?

‘They said his sudden rise in power was because of the elixirs, right?’

He had always believed it was due to demonic energy. That he had become corrupted and powered up instantly.

That was the only explanation possible at the time.

But Aint had told him it was actually because of the elixirs. That his body had been saturated with mixed energies from various origins.

‘What if one of those was Itarium?’

The probability was low, but not impossible.

‘The final report on Gismond should arrive soon—I’ll have to go over it carefully.’

At that moment, he was interrupted.

“It’s time to switch shifts. Wake up the next watch and hand over your post.”

“Right.”

Coincidentally, the next was Aint.

“Aint, wake up. It’s your turn.”

“Ah… yeah.”

With sleepy eyes, Aint got up and started getting ready.

Fernan watched him silently, then asked in a low voice:

“You said no demonic energy was found in Gismond, right?”

“Eh? Ah, yeah. Senior Gismond wasn’t corrupted. He had just consumed too many elixirs. Though no one knows how he got so many and took them to the limit.”

“Rare elixirs, then? Do you know exactly which ones?”

“Not all… but some, yeah.”

Aint nodded.

“Then, can you confirm if Itarium was among them?”

“Itarium?”

— It was.

Aint furrowed his brow, thought for a moment, and answered confidently.

“Yes, it was.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. But why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“…Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

So it was. It was there.

As Aint finished preparing for his watch, he didn’t notice Fernan’s expression.

***

The next day

Aside from the loss of the elixir, the night passed without incident.

In the morning, they broke camp, and by noon they reached the great wall of Altrierc.

“This is the pride of Altrierc—its wall.”

Before their eyes stood a colossal fortress, like a wall that split the world.

But that construction wasn’t the entire wall—just one of its segments.

Seven fortresses, built at strategic points, joined together as a defensive line to protect the Empire.

And the one they had reached was the closest to Artc, the capital: Medierc, the largest of them all.

“Welcome. Medierc welcomes the Academy students.”

The gates of the fortress opened wide.

***

“I’ll show you where you can rest.”

Right after arriving at the fortress, the Academy’s delegation separated from the Iron Knights.

The fortress didn’t have as many amenities as the feudal lord’s castle in Artc, and the Academy students were assigned an entire annex.

“Young master.”

As they headed toward the annex, someone slipped in beside Fernan.

“Rapelle?”

“Young master, a moment, this way.”

Rapelle discreetly pulled him aside. Professor Grad noticed but said nothing.

“It’s been a while, young master.”

“Rapelle, yes, it has been a while.”

Altrierc and the Pellenberg family had maintained commercial relations for a long time, and because of that, Fernan had some familiarity with various people there.

Rapelle was one of them—a knight of Altrierc.

“It’s nothing urgent, but His Lordship wishes to see you before meeting the others.”

“Oh, really?”

He already knew this moment would come.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Rapelle escorted him to the entrance of the office in the fortress.

“My lord, young master Fernan has arrived.”

“Let him in.”

A voice responded from within after the guard’s announcement.

Creak.

The count of Altrierc was a middle-aged man, with a sober and solemn appearance.

His brown hair was neatly combed back. At that moment, he was reviewing piles of documents and signing them one by one.

Fernan bowed respectfully.

“It’s an honor to see you again, Count.”

“What do you want?”

The count didn’t look up and spoke curtly.

“Straight to the point?”

“Wasn’t that the reason you handed this note to the steward?”

The count pushed the papers aside.

Tap. The note fell in front of Fernan.

It was the same paper he had handed to the steward, the message in which he requested a transaction concerning the Inquisitors.

“So you believe me?”

“Only a fool would use a lie that can be easily uncovered to deceive others. And the more one has to lose, the more one knows how foolish such a risk would be.”

“I didn’t think you held me in such high regard.”

“It’s not you I hold in regard, but the Pellenberg family.”

Fernan gave a half-smile. The count claimed it was different, but both knew the truth—Fernan would one day be the head of House Pellenberg.

“Then tell me, what is it you want?”

“I want the Order of the Iron Knights, the Order of the Wildblood Knights, and one thousand soldiers.”

These were Altrierc’s proudest knightly orders.

“And what for?”

The count didn’t say no.

“I want to lead them to eliminate the target of the transaction.”

“So Altrierc puts in the effort and Pellenberg takes the glory?”

“No.”

Fernan shook his head.

“I have no ambition for glory. For money, perhaps, yes.”

“Glory becomes money.”

“In this case, glory would bring more trouble than wealth.”

It would be the first open confrontation with an Inquisitor. It would save Altrierc, even the Kingdom of Alprosen. That would make someone a hero. And heroes always attract as many expectations as enemies.

“Then?”

“I won’t be the one to lead.”

“Who then?”

“Aint Armian.”

The count’s hand, which had been stroking his chin, stopped. A slight furrow formed on his forehead.

A second of silence. Then, the conversation resumed.

“Boy.”

His gaze turned cold.

“You’re coveting too much.”

“No.”

“How not?”

“I have no grand plans of putting Armian on the throne.”

“Don’t play word games. We’ve supported Schwaben in the last three elections.”

“So have we.”

“We’re not unhappy with the situation. Schwaben promised us more support, and they’re delivering.”

War consumed resources. Even if most were minor conflicts, sustaining such campaigns for over half a year was no small feat.

“We also gained great benefits from Schwaben. Thanks to that, we’ve profited even more.”

“And now you say you’d abandon Schwaben for a ruined Armian.”

“As I said, I don’t plan to make him emperor.”

“Speak plainly.”

“This continent needs a hero.”

The count watched him silently, prompting him to continue.

“Do you think this wave of monsters is just coincidence?”

“I’m well aware the Inquisitors are behind this.”

“But that’s only a supposition. You don’t know how many there are, or how long they’ve been gathering strength.”

There was no proof. Altrierc had not unmasked a single one. But Fernan had.

“The academy’s headmaster must have already informed you that demons and corrupted were discovered in the academy.”

“That’s correct.”

“Twelve in total. They had three bases there. Do you believe that’s just coincidence?”

Fernan held his gaze. A subtle pressure filled the air.

“Then…”

The pressure vanished as if it had never existed.

“What you’re claiming is that demons will descend upon this land once more.”

“The Inquisitors, who remained hidden for a thousand years, are now rising as if they’ve been waiting. Would they do that without preparation and a common goal?”

“And you think the dog should be unleashed against its own master?”

“Knights know better than anyone how to fight. How can you expect to hunt a bull with a chicken knife?”

“Usually it’s the other way around.”

“The world doesn’t always flow in one direction.”

Fernan shrugged boldly. The count stared at him silently for a moment.

“…Fine.”

The count nodded.

“Since the academy has sent students, I’ll make all of them participate.”

“A wise decision.”

“You’re not asking why not only Aint Armian.”

“And you’re not asking why I’m not arguing with you.”

“Don’t you think that strategy’s too cliché? It’s an old method—it stinks.”

“If it still works, it’s because it’s proven. And it just worked again, didn’t it?”

“How shameless.”

Fernan already knew it couldn’t be just Aint who stood out.

The count let out an incredulous chuckle.