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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 88

Chapter 88

“So⁠‌​ you’re saying that‍‍​ guy is a Corrupted?”

“Yes.”‍

“He‍ really is a Corrupted.”

Crash!‌

The‍​ massive rock shattered.‌‌‍ Fragments flew in⁠​ every direction, but‍ a translucent ice⁠‌ barrier stopped them.⁠‌

“You!​‌⁠ Who the hell‌​ are you? How​‌⁠ dare you attack⁠ me?!”

Bairan,‌ unscathed but completely‌​⁠ enraged, shouted with‌​‍ murderous fury.

“Looks‌​‌ like you still​⁠ don’t understand the​ situation.”

“What‌‌ did you say?”⁠​‌

The‍‍ three warriors protecting⁠‌​ the desert nomads⁠ removed their robes‌ and turbans. But​‌⁠ their appearances didn’t​​ resemble nomadic clansmen‍​‌ at all.

“You…!⁠ You’re not from​ the desert!”

“Of⁠‌ course not. I’m‍‍⁠ from Pellenberg, she’s​ from Bercheff, and⁠ the other from‌‌ Vienderk.”

“Don’t‍‌‌ give unnecessary information‌ to the Corrupted,‌ Fernan.”

“Fernan‌ Pellenberg, you said?”‍​‌

“And​‌​ now you’ve given‍ the Corrupted my‌​ name.”

“Enough,⁠ both of you.⁠⁠​ This isn’t the‌⁠⁠ time to argue​‌ in front of⁠⁠ the enemy.”

They​‌ were Professor Rosalia,⁠​ Fernan, and Luina,⁠⁠ disguised as desert‌ guards.

One⁠ day earlier, they⁠‍‍ had infiltrated a nomadic clan in‌‌⁠ the southern Taklakan‍‍​ desert.

Although​‌⁠ the clans were‌​‌ hesitant to allow‍‌ an army into⁠ their camps, they‌⁠ agreed to cooperate⁠ due to the⁠ deep hatred they⁠​ held against the‍‍‌ monsters. And now,‍⁠ the time had‍⁠ come.

“How⁠​ the hell did​‍ you get here?”‌‍

“Does‌ it matter now?‍⁠ I don’t think⁠⁠‌ so.”

Fernan‌⁠ shrugged. The rumbling‍‍⁠ of the ground,‍ which had felt‍​‌ distant before, was‍ now right upon‍‍⁠ them.

Bairan‌⁠ belatedly remembered that‍⁠ the two great​ knightly orders of​ Altrierc were charging​‌‍ in this direction.‍

“Damn​ it!”

Why,⁠⁠ how, for what—none⁠ of that mattered‌ now. With his‌‌‍ life on the‌‍ line, there was‍‍ no time to‍⁠ hesitate.

“Shit…!”⁠⁠

Fweeeet—‍⁠‌

Bairan‌ whistled.

“He‍​‌ clearly blew air,‌ but there’s no​ sound. It’s more‌​‌ like a strange⁠‌ energy, different from‍​‌ mana, spreading out‍ in irritating waves.”‌

“He‍ mixed in corrupted⁠⁠‌ magic.”

“Interesting.”‍‌

Thududududu—hoofbeats⁠ and monster roars​​​ merged into one.⁠

“Kill‍ them all! Buy‍‌​ me time to‌‌ escape!”

Dozens—no,‌​ hundreds—of monsters burst‌‌​ onto the sand.‍‌

“Shouting⁠⁠ your plans in​ front of the‌​ enemy—is that stupidity‌ or clumsiness?”

“Aren’t⁠‌ they the same?”⁠‌​

“Means‌⁠ he’s hopeless.”

A staff appeared in‍‌ Rosalia’s hand. The⁠⁠‌ magic crystal at⁠⁠ its tip glowed⁠ softly. Ice spread⁠⁠ from the arid⁠‌​ ground, trapping Bairan’s​ legs.

“Useless‌⁠​ trick…!”

But⁠‍ the ice shattered⁠‍ easily. Luina thrust⁠​‌ her blade toward‍‌ where Bairan stood,‌‌ but he had‌ already leapt back‌‍‍ like an arrow.‌

And‌ at that moment—⁠​

────!​⁠​

Boooom!⁠‌

Neighhh—​‍​

Groaaar!⁠‍​

The⁠‍​ lances of the⁠‍ two knight orders​⁠ clashed into the‌ monster horde. It‌ was only a brief pause, a momentary recoil to​⁠ gain more force.‌

The‍ Iron Knights and⁠ Wild Blood Knights‍​​ tore through the⁠​​ monster lines like⁠‌ sharp knives slicing‍​‍ through fish.

Before‌​‌ the gaps could⁠‌ close with more‌ monsters, Altrierc’s elite⁠‌ soldiers surged in.⁠

“Impressive.‌⁠ Altrierc’s reputation is​ well deserved.”

Luina⁠ exhaled with genuine‌ admiration at the​​‌ knights’ charge.

“So,‌⁠ do you think‌⁠ Aint Armian and⁠​ Ludger Schwaben can⁠‍‍ take down that​​‌ fool?”

Rosalia‍⁠‍ showed no surprise​ that her magic‌‌​ had been broken.​⁠​ In truth, she‍ hadn’t failed—she had⁠​‌ let him escape‌⁠ on purpose.

She,⁠‌‍ Rosalia Vienderk, the⁠​ youngest professor in‍⁠ Academy history, could’ve‌‌⁠ stopped him if​‌⁠ she had wanted‌‌‍ to.

“I​ couldn’t have defeated‌⁠ him.”

“Me‍ neither.”

The​‌ power Bairan had‌ displayed, even for​​ a moment, far⁠ exceeded Fernan’s expectations.‍‍‍ It was no⁠‍‌ wonder he had⁠‌ been the one​ leading the Monster‍ Wave in the⁠‍ region.

“Not‍‌ even I could‍​ guarantee victory.”

Rosalia‌​‌ lit a black​​ cigarette as she​​ spoke.

Being⁠‌ a professor at⁠‍ the Academy required‍​​ many qualifications, but⁠‌ the most important‌​⁠ was strength. And​‍ she was considered‌‍​ a future Archmage.⁠‌​ If even she‍⁠‍ said she couldn’t​‍​ guarantee it, then‌​ the Corrupted was‌⁠ truly dangerous.

“Maybe​‌​ Professor Grad could.”⁠⁠

Physically,​⁠⁠ Grad was even‌‌ more formidable. His​‍ hiring had been‌​ decided almost entirely‍ based on his‌‌ raw power.

“So‌‍⁠ he’s not an‌‌​ opponent for mere‌​ students.”

“But​ we have Armian.”‌

“Right,‍‌⁠ the power to​‌‍ break down corrupted‌‍ magic.”

That‍​‌ was why Armian‍ was called the⁠ natural enemy of‍ demons—before the holy​ light he emitted,​ neither demons nor​ their servants, the⁠‍‌ Corrupteds, could use‍‍‌ their full power.‌

“I⁠​⁠ suppose this was‍ your idea.”

The​‍​ strategy was clear:‌⁠ Rosalia and Fernan‌ would block from⁠⁠‍ the front, the​ Iron and Wild‍⁠ Blood Knights would​ flank, and the​​ Corrupted would have​ no choice but‌ to flee backward—where‍ the Academy students‍ waited.

“The​ students came for‍⁠⁠ experience. Facing a Corrupted will be‌ the best one‍‌ yet.”

“And‍​‍ you?”

“I’m‌⁠⁠ not particularly skilled‍⁠⁠ in battle.”

“Luina.”‌

“At‍ the Academy, we‌ were taught that‌​‌ knights and mages⁠​‍ must fight together.⁠⁠‍ At least one⁠‍​ knight should stay‌ here.”

“I’m‌ enough. How arrogant.”‌⁠‍

Rosalia‍​‍ clicked her tongue‌ but didn’t argue​​ further.

“And⁠ you, Professor? Why⁠ are you here?”‍

“I​ can’t leave the​​​ students alone.”

“Did​​‌ Professor Grad order⁠ it?”

Rosalia‍‍ didn’t answer, but​‌​ that was answer⁠‍⁠ enough.

‘Do‍​⁠ well, Aint Armian.’​‌‍

Fernan⁠‌ looked in the‍​‌ direction the Corrupted⁠ had fled.

Maybe‌⁠ this was no‍⁠⁠ longer just Aint’s‍​ stage—but for all‍ the Academy students.⁠‍‌ Even so, this⁠‌‌ was the best‍ Fernan could do:‌‍ set the stage‍ for Aint to⁠‍ gain experience and​ use it as‍‌​ a stepping stone.​‍

‘And‌‌⁠ I also made⁠⁠⁠ sure Luina stayed‌ here…’

In‌​⁠ truth, Luina’s presence⁠​‌ was the result‌‌⁠ of his request.⁠

“I​‍‍ trust Professor Rosalia,⁠ but I thought‌‍​ it would be​‍ best if a knight stayed as⁠‍ well, just in‍⁠ case.”

“…Understood.”​⁠‍

“Then‍‍​ I’ll take care⁠⁠⁠ of finishing off​ the monsters.”

Luina⁠​ ran toward the‌ front. Each flash⁠⁠⁠ of her sword‌⁠ reflecting the sunlight​⁠⁠ marked another monster⁠‌⁠ falling.

“You​‍​ too, go.”

“Me⁠ too?”

“You‍‌ said the students‌‌ came for experience,‍ and you’re one‌​‌ of them.”

“I’m⁠ too tired. Can​​​ I rest a bit?”

“Rest‌⁠‍ from what?”

“……”‌

Under⁠ the pressure of⁠ her gaze, Fernan‍​ had no choice‍ but to raise​‌‍ his staff.

***⁠​​

— He’s here.

Even‌ if Gardner hadn’t‍⁠ said it, Aint‌‍ could feel it​‍ too.

The‍​⁠ approaching enemy tried⁠‍​ to be discreet,​‍ but by moving‍​⁠ so fast, he​ couldn’t completely hide‌ his energy.

At‌‌ least not from​ Aint or Gardner,‌‍‍ both highly sensitive‌​‍ to demonic magic.​​‍

“He’s⁠‌​ coming.”

Aint‍​ drew his sword.⁠ He took position‍ and swung a vertical slash.

Slash!​

The‌⁠ sand split, and‌‍ the strike hit⁠‍ the Corrupted. With‍ the shockwave, the‍‍‍ figure that had‌‍​ been sneaking in​‍ was revealed.

“That​ stench…! It’s you!‌ You’re that cursed​ blood!”

The‍ instinctive repulsion and‌‌​ the corrupted magic‍⁠ being devoured by‍ the light were‌​ enough for Bairan⁠⁠‌ to instantly recognize⁠​ who had blocked‍​ him.

And‍ he also saw​ the others waiting.‍​

“A‍​ trap? So you⁠ knew I’d come⁠​‍ this way and‌‌ waited for me!”‍

Damn​⁠‍ it. Though he​‍ had dreamed of⁠‌‌ facing Aint Armian,‌ he couldn’t feel​ joy.

If⁠‍ it were just⁠​​ Aint, maybe—but there⁠ were too many‌ obstacles. And he‍​​ couldn’t ignore Altrierc’s​​ forces closing in‌⁠ from behind.

He‌ had no time⁠‍ to waste here.‌⁠‍ Capturing Aint was​​ important, sure, but⁠‌ what good was⁠‌ glory if he⁠​ ended up dead?‌‍

Not⁠‌ even by surrendering⁠ his soul to​ the demon and⁠⁠⁠ gaining power had‍‌‌ he escaped death.​

“I‌⁠ don’t have time​⁠‍ to play with‌ you…!”

At​⁠ that moment—

“Oh,⁠⁠‍ you don’t? What‌ a shame, because‌‌ we’ve got plenty​‌ of time to​‍ play with you.”​

Spears​‍ of wind burst‌‌​ out and attacked​⁠​ from blind angles.‍ As he barely⁠​‍ dispersed them with​​ a wave of‍​‍ corrupted magic, a lightning bolt struck‍⁠ him.

And‍‌‍ before its echo‍‌ faded, a white‍⁠​ flash hit him.‍‍

It‍‌ was absolute frost‌‌‍ that froze everything.‍​

“Damn​ it…!”

“Hold‍⁠⁠ still and freeze,‌⁠ filthy Corrupted.”

The‍‌​ owner of the⁠ cold was Ludger⁠ Schwaben, extending a staff with one⁠‌ hand.

“Miserable‍ insects…!”

But‌‍‌ Bairan wasn’t so​⁠ easily broken.

Crrrk—‌‌

Black​‍‍ scales covered his‍⁠⁠ body. From his​ back sprouted dozens⁠​ of corrupted magic⁠ tendrils, like tentacles.⁠

His⁠ freezing body flared‌​⁠ with heat.

“It’s⁠ useless!”

Bairan’s‍​ roar echoed. The‍‌ vibration, charged with⁠​​ magic, struck the⁠‍‍ students’ eardrums.

“Ugh…!”​

“Kyah!”⁠‍

Some⁠⁠​ groaned and collapsed,​ but Ludger stood‍‌ firm.

“No,‍ it’s not useless.”‌​​

Realizing‌⁠⁠ he had to‌ go all in,‌‍‌ he poured all​⁠​ his mana into‌‌‌ the spell. The​‍⁠ ice ray intensified.​​​

The​‍​ Corrupted’s heat began‍‌ to die, and⁠⁠ frost crept over⁠‌ his body.

“Kuugh…!”​‍

The⁠ mana drain was​⁠‍ brutal, and Ludger‌‌‍ staggered. Using ice​ magic in a blazing desert was‍ extremely inefficient.

Even⁠‌‌ so, he pushed​‌ his mana heart‌‌‌ to the limit.⁠‍‍

Still​‌ not enough?

He‌ recalled what Fernan⁠‍ had taught him⁠‍ in such moments.‌

He​​​ opened his subspace​‍ and drank a potion. His hands‌ were already covered‌ with rings and‍​​ bracelets embedded with‍‌ magic stones.

The⁠⁠ artifacts shone intensely‌ and began injecting​ mana. The nearly⁠‌ extinguished ice ray​⁠ flared back to​​‌ life.

But‌ even so—

“You⁠‌‌ insolent worm!”

Ludger’s​⁠​ spell had failed​‌ to completely freeze⁠‍ the Corrupted. Bairan​‍ resisted and advanced‍⁠‍ slowly. Frost formed‌ and cracked on​⁠ his skin in⁠‌⁠ cycles.

“What​‌‍ a monster…”

Ludger’s​⁠ face twisted, and‍⁠ without realizing it,⁠‌ he let out‍⁠ a bitter laugh.‌ His mana heart‌ was pounding as‍ if it were‌ about to burst.‍‌‍ His head throbbed​⁠ with pain as⁠⁠​ he struggled to​​ control the flow⁠⁠ of energy from​ the artifacts.

A thin stream of‍‍ blood ran from​⁠ his nose.

His​ hands and feet‌⁠‍ trembled.

This‍⁠ was his limit.​

And‌ still, the enemy‍‍‌ wasn’t frozen.

A true monster.

At⁠‌ last, Ludger understood‌​‌ why demons and⁠⁠ Corrupted were called​‍ the true enemies‍‌ of humanity.

The‌‌​ pain in his⁠‌ chest and head,⁠ the blood soaking‌‌​ his clothes—it didn’t‍‌ wipe away his‌‌‍ smile.

He‌⁠ hadn’t fully frozen⁠‍​ him, but he‍⁠‌ had slowed him‍ down.

That‌‌ was enough.

Aint.‌⁠⁠

Almon.‍

Verian.​‍‍

Alia.‌⁠

They‍ were students, but⁠‌ already surpassed many​ knights.

All⁠‍‍ of them charged‌‌ at once, while‍ the other mages⁠ began casting. A storm engulfed the‍​ Corrupted, and through​ its gaps, the⁠ swords pierced.

Clang!​

As‌ he watched the‍‌‍ battle, Ludger tossed‌⁠ away the overloaded⁠ artifacts.

“With‍ that, wouldn’t you⁠ say I contributed​⁠​ the most?”

“Undoubtedly,⁠ your spells slowed​‌‌ him down a lot.”

Professor‍ Grad, who had‍‌ remained hidden until⁠‌ then, appeared beside⁠⁠ him.

“Your‍ role was crucial.⁠​ The timing, also‌ perfect.”

Not⁠ far away, the‍‌​ presence of the⁠ knight order could‌ be felt. And‌‌⁠ in plain sight—the​‍ Iron Knights.

They⁠ had seen Ludger’s‍‌⁠ magical prowess firsthand.​​

“But‍ in the end,​ you rushed it.”‍

Flash!⁠⁠⁠

A radiant light swept​‍⁠ away the corrupted​ magic.

“Humans‍ always remember the⁠‍ ending.”

Aint‌‌ Armian, cloaked in‍ a massive white‌​​ aura, raised his⁠ sword. The scene‍ evoked the image​‌⁠ of the legendary​ first Emperor himself.​‌

Everyone‌⁠ held their breath.​

Ludger‍‌ bit his lip.‌​‍

“I​‌‌ should’ve held back‌⁠‍ and appeared at‍​​ the end…”

“Even‌‌​ then, nothing would’ve​ changed.”

Beginning⁠⁠ or end—the result‍‍⁠ would be the‌‍​ same.

He⁠​⁠ didn’t have the⁠‌​ power to kill‍‍‍ the Corrupted.

His⁠ magic wasn’t cold‍‍ or piercing enough.‌‍

And‍​ that went for​ all of them.⁠ Even Aint—if not‍‍‍ for the fact​⁠ that he possessed⁠​ a power that‌ directly countered demons.‍

“Are‍ you frustrated?”

“I’d‌‍ be lying if‍ I said no.‌​‌ But I didn’t⁠​⁠ come out empty-handed.”⁠

Ludger‍ stared at Aint’s⁠‍ radiant aura.

‘The⁠ swordsmanship of the‍‍​ Armians… when was⁠ it restored?’

That‌​ bothered him more⁠⁠ than his own⁠​ achievements being overshadowed.‍

‘And⁠ Fernan knew about⁠⁠⁠ it beforehand?’

That‍⁠ fox.

Ludger⁠‌ chuckled to himself.⁠

“…This‍​‌ can’t be! I won’t die here!”⁠⁠

The​​ Corrupted roared in​‍‍ desperation. His body⁠ deformed even further,​ and his magic‌‍ turned wild.

But‍‍ Aria’s wind cut‌⁠​ him down.

Carlo’s​⁠ lightning tore through​ him.

Aint’s⁠ flash accelerated his‍‍ collapse.

And‌‌ the blades of⁠‌ Almon and Alia‍‍​ left no opening⁠‌⁠ untouched.

“You‍‌‌ damn…!”

“I’m‍ a professor. And⁠ for now, their​ protector.”

“Monster…!”‍‌‍

“Isn’t‌​ it an honor‌⁠‍ to be called‌⁠‍ that by a Corrupted?”

There‍ were dangerous moments,‌​ but Grad always‌‍​ disrupted the flow‌ at the critical​​ second.

The⁠⁠‍ Corrupted was hunted‌ without mercy.

And‍ while Ludger’s magic⁠⁠ didn’t defeat him,⁠ it played a decisive role—it had‌‍ weakened him.

“No…‌‌ no… I can’t⁠​ die here! Save⁠‍ me! I’ll give‍​ you anything you‌ want!”

Bairan​⁠ spat blood and​​⁠ pleaded, eyes overflowing‌‌ with desperate hunger‌⁠⁠ for life.

“You‌ really think we’d‍ trust a Corrupted?”⁠

“I​ was just following‍‍​ orders! The demons…⁠ against the demons…!”‌

— Disgusting. Finish him.‍⁠‌ Corrupteds always lie.‍⁠​ Not worth speaking​ to them.

Aint⁠ didn’t respond. He‍​ didn’t need to.⁠

His​​ sword would be⁠‌​ the answer.

Slash!​‍​

The‍⁠ blade flashed.

“Ah.”‍

A thin line opened‌‌ across the Corrupted’s‍​ chest.

“Gyaaaah!”⁠‌​

The⁠‌ wound split wide,‍​ spewing black blood.‍ With one final​‌‍ scream, the Corrupted​ collapsed backward.

Aint​⁠⁠ stepped on his‍ chest and raised‌⁠ his sword.

“Woooooohhh—!”​

“Long‍ live Aint Armian!”‌‌

“The​ Corrupted has fallen!”⁠

The⁠​ Iron Knights’ roar⁠‍ echoed across the⁠‍​ desert.

“Stop!‌ Don’t kill him!‌⁠​ He mustn’t die!”​

“…Ah,‌ right.”

At⁠ Fernan’s belated shout,⁠ Aint quickly lifted‌ his foot.

“…Uh.”⁠

He‌​‍ scratched his cheek‌ awkwardly.

‘Maybe‌⁠‌ it’s already too‌ late?’

— Bah, it was‍⁠​ pointless anyway. Corrupteds​ don’t confess anything,⁠​ even under torture;​ they’ve got prohibitions⁠ etched into them.‍​

— That fool doesn’t​‌ even know.

‘Still…‌‌ I don’t want‍‍ to fight with‌‍​ my senior over‌‍‌ this…’

Aint‌‍ took out a potion.

“What‍ if I give⁠⁠ him this? Will‍‌ he recover enough​‌‍ to interrogate him?”‌⁠

— You going to​ torture him?

— Would be fun⁠ to watch a Corrupted suffer.

“…Doesn’t‍ seem like it.”​⁠

Aint​ let out a quiet sigh.

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