It wasn't a coincidence.
It was anxiety.
Knowing that this situation had already diverged significantly from the future foretold by the Prophecy Book, he was worried whether Aint would be able to obtain it safely.
That was why he simply wanted to witness it through to the end himself.
"But it seems that was the right decision."
That anxiety had granted him the opportunity to prevent the future from going completely wrong.
"Funeral money?"
Heh heh. The spine of the degenerate, which had been half-bent, straightened up again.
"Insolent wretch. Your corpse will be erased without a trace—no one will ever find you."
"Aint, can you stand?"
"Y-Yes…!"
Aint struggled to his feet, but he didn't look to be in a normal state. Fernand tossed him a potion.
"Drink it."
"Thank you. But why are you here—"
A rock shot up. A black flash pierced through it. But that brief hesitation allowed Aint to barely duck and avoid the flash.
Rolling across the ground, he picked up a fallen sword.
—Are you alright, Aint?
"Drink the potion and join us, Aint Armian!"
Aint quickly chugged the potion. By then, Fernand had already entered combat with the degenerate.
"You think a wretch like you can stop me?!"
"The more I hear your voice, the more repulsive it becomes."
Masses of demonic energy slammed into a wall of stone.
—!
They were crushed under the swing of claws, but from the cloud of dust, Fernand slammed down his staff.
Dozens of rocky spikes exploded out, raining down on the degenerate.
"Pathetic…!"
As he inhaled briefly and exhaled, the swollen, pulsating demonic energy repelled all the spikes.
In the next moment, the demonic energy sprouted thorns and surged toward Fernand—like a storm.
──!
The rock wall rose but crumbled like a rag. The storm collided with another barrier but failed to break through it.
However, the force of the impact still pushed Fernand backward. Just before he could regain his balance, a black shadow rushed in again.
KWAANG!
The claws stopped just in front of Fernand's nose. A translucent shield stood between them.
"You carry around quite a lot of cheap tricks, don't you?!"
Borrowing the power of an artifact, Fernand activated a memorized spell.
Drrrrr—
The ground beneath the degenerate's feet flipped. Its body swayed momentarily, thrown off balance.
Above it, two massive stone hands clapped together like a prayer.
—!
A tremendous roar shook the underground.
A moment of silence. Then, Fernand hurled dozens of glass vials at once.
Clatter! The liquids inside seeped through the crevices of the clasped stone hands.
In that instant, the rock hands crumbled without a trace. Amid the echoing roar, a groan from the degenerate could be heard.
"You…! What the hell is this…?!"
With a pungent smoke, part of the demonic energy cloaking its body began to dissipate.
What do you think? It's holy water—prepared especially for bastards like you.
"Why would I tell you that?"
Suppressing his desire to mock the creature, Fernand gently brushed the bracelet on his wrist.
Lightning struck.
"Gah, you damned bastard…!"
Even so, the degenerate swallowed its groan and began recovering the slowly disintegrating demonic energy.
"Did you know? The element I'm actually most attuned to… is fire."
The degenerate didn't respond. Fernand hadn't expected an answer anyway.
"I mainly studied earth magic, sure—but I never completely let go of fire magic either. The more cards you have, the better."
Not as good as money, but still.
"Also, did you know? Among all elemental magics, earth magic is the most useful for drawing magic circles. After all, who would suspect a pile of dirt to be a magic circle?"
So what I'm saying is—
"You probably pretended to listen to me just to buy time to recover your demonic energy, but the truth is… even that was within my expectations."
At that moment, the magic circle drawn in the dirt lit up.
It was a massive formation that encompassed a full 5-meter radius centered on the degenerate.
"You bastard…!"
────!
A massive pillar of fire engulfed the degenerate.
A thunderous roar rang out. Heat swept through the surroundings.
"What are you doing, Aint Armian?"
"…Huh?"
Aint blinked, stunned by the spectacle.
"I was just about to take the potion…"
"Was there a spatial expansion spell cast on that bottle or something?"
"…No, nothing like that."
"Then I'll leave the finishing blow to you. My magic isn't quite enough to finish off a monster like that."
Fernand was right. Though the flames had died down, the degenerate still stood there.
Its demonic energy had significantly diminished, and there were charred wounds all over its body—but it was still alive.
Its fighting spirit and murderous intent hadn't faded. No—if anything, its killing intent had grown thicker.
"Doesn't look weak to me…"
"Don't tell me you can't finish off something like that?"
"Of course not."
With a determined expression, Aint stepped forward. A brilliant white aura erupted around him.
"Yeah. You'd better prove you're worth the heart of Saintbird."
Aint kicked off the ground.
"Die…! I'll kill you!"
The degenerate roared, squeezing out the last of its demonic energy.
──!
Aint and the degenerate crossed paths.
The degenerate was still fast. But weakened by the holy water and the power of light, it was no longer faster than Aint.
Its outer shell was tough. But no longer tough enough to block Aint's sword.
"I… I can't die like this…!"
With those final words, the degenerate's head—
"Wait, don't kill it! We need to find out who's behind it!"
—didn't fall. Instead, its limbs were severed. Its body lay sprawled across the ground.
"Agh…! My arm…!"
Aint let out a scream. His arm had twisted unnaturally after forcibly changing the trajectory mid-attack.
—That guy's the real deal!
While pouring a potion over his dislocated arm, Aint realized that Gardener Alpenfarsen was extremely excited.
—His magic skill itself might be uncertain, but he knows how to use what he's got and adapt to his environment. That's real talent.
—And more than anything, he showed no fear facing a degenerate—and the way he mocked that thing? Pure art!
'I feel like that last part got the highest score. But… I didn't really see any mocking, did I?'
—You just don't get it. Anticipating what the degenerate would think and completely overturning it—that cleverness. And then kindly explaining it to the degenerate just to make it squirm? That's mockery.
—Everything was perfect.
'Well… if Gardener says so, I guess that's that.'
Aint's gaze turned to Fernand, who was resting on a rock.
'Honestly, I didn't expect him to be this good…'
If Aint Graham was the eye of the storm in the first year, then among the second years, it was undoubtedly Fernand Pellenberg.
He had only ranked 10th as a first-year, but as soon as he entered second year, he rose rapidly—rumors spread that he had been hiding his true strength all along.
'He must really have been hiding his power, huh?'
—Otherwise it doesn't make sense. You've got my help, but he doesn't.
'But why would someone with that kind of skill hide it? If it were me, I'd show it off right away.'
As Aint started thinking about Fernand in a slightly different light, Fernand slowly approached the fallen degenerate.
"The way you crawl on the ground like an insect suits you perfectly."
"Y-You… bastard…!"
"I've got a present for you."
A glass vial was forced into the degenerate's mouth. The holy water inside poured down, and the creature screamed as if it were being ripped apart.
"KRAAAAAAGH!"
"It's good for you. Drink lots."
The degenerate's mouth and throat twisted as though they were burning. Fernand shoved his hand inside.
"W-What are you doing?"
"You've never been caught before… no, you haven't."
If it wasn't his own decision, then maybe a magical restriction had been placed. That made more sense—after all, demons would likely take such precautions.
"If I told you to obediently reveal your master's location, you wouldn't talk, would you?"
"Don't spout nonsense…! Though I was defeated due to my own shortcomings, you'll never achieve what you're after! You and your allies will—right here, today, with me—!"
And then—
Crunch—
The degenerate's chest collapsed inward, and Fernand's hand pierced through. The creature coughed up blood.
Fernand poured holy water directly into the gaping hole in its chest.
"GRAAAAAAAGH!"
A scream more piercing than any before tore through the air.
That was the mana heart—what mages called the core—and for degenerates, it was where their demonic energy was concentrated. It was only natural that holy water poured into it would trigger a violent reaction.
"Planning to self-destruct? Do I look stupid enough to fall for the same trick twice?"
Even if a degenerate self-destructed, it wasn't anything impressive. It was simply the overloading of their mana heart with demonic energy. But that was impossible once the demonic energy itself had been erased.
"I've come up with an interesting idea. A method that might actually purify you."
Demons and monsters that descended through demonic energy were literally demonic beings. If enough holy water was used to erase that energy, they would likely be erased entirely.
But degenerates?
They were once living beings of the middle world—vermin who betrayed humanity and received power by worshiping demons.
Since they weren't demons by origin, if the demonic energy was repeatedly erased, wouldn't only their original form remain in the end?
"When that happens, will you still stay loyal to your demon and keep your mouth shut?"
Of course, it would require an immense amount of holy water—but that didn't matter.
"Look forward to it. I acquired a huge supply recently."
Unfortunately, the degenerate had already passed out, foaming at the mouth with its eyes rolled back, and didn't hear a word of it.
—A creative method. I'd say making that guy our ally from the start was a stroke of genius.
—If that holy water truly can purify degenerates, it could be extremely useful.
—And if you add Armian's power of light, the results might be even more promising.
—Hmm? Aint, why the pale face?
"…Well, it's just…"
He couldn't bring himself to say it—that Fernand felt more demonic than the demons themselves.
—Nonsense. To think that way about such a reliable talent…
—You've still got a long way to go.
Of course, Gardener—who could read thoughts—noticed it anyway.
Aint found Gardener unusually distant today.
Screech—
With the offering of blood, the previously sealed door quietly opened. A staircase leading downward came into view.
The stairs were long—about 100 meters, roughly.
Going deeper underground from the underground, it was hard to tell just how deep they were now.
"By the way… am I even allowed to be here?"
"Yes, it's fine. I owe you my life, after all."
"Well, if you say so."
At the bottom of the stairs was another door, and a short hallway stretched beyond. Along the hallway walls were numerous murals.
"This is…"
—Demons.
"Demons."
Ten figures were depicted on the murals, but they were clearly not human. Despite being mere paintings, they radiated a sense of horror and revulsion.
Aint stood before a demon that resembled a human and had a snake coiled around one arm.
"This is the 72nd-ranked demon, Andromalius. Next to him is the 71st-ranked Dantalion."
Dantalion had multiple heads on a humanoid body and held a book in one hand.
"But… they're glaring at each other?"
"Seems that way. Maybe they don't get along."
It wasn't just those two. The paired demons all stared at one another with hostile, venomous eyes.
—He's right. Not all demons get along.
—Just like humans have countless kingdoms and factions, demons have their own factions and rivalries.
—If the late emperor hadn't exploited that, we might never have defeated that bastard Kolomo.
After passing through the hallway, they offered more blood and opened another door. And inside—what Aint had been searching for awaited him.
A small, pure-white artifact in the shape of a fragment.
"Is this part of the First Emperor's plan? A shard?"
"It's an accessory. For this sword."
"I see. Then go ahead and take it."
Aint nodded and stepped forward slowly.
—There's a high-level barrier around it. Extend the sword. It'll respond and dispel the barrier.
As he reached out the sword, a faint pulse rippled through the air. The invisible barrier disappeared like mist.
Click. The fragment fit perfectly into a small slot on the sword's hilt.
Feeling a gentle surge of power seep into him, Aint exhaled with excitement.
"Got it."
"Though… I feel kind of bad. You saved my life, and I'm the only one gaining anything here. I wish I had something to give you in return."
As a descendant of the impoverished former royal family, Aint had nothing to offer. More precisely, he had nothing he thought could satisfy someone like Fernand.
"No, you do have something that can satisfy me."
But Fernand shook his head firmly.
"…Excuse me?"
"You said you'd give me something—anything, right?"
"…Yes. As long as it's not the sword…"
"It's not the sword, so don't worry. It's that."
Fernand pointed upward. Aint followed the direction of his finger.
The ceiling. There was nothing there—except for a few embedded magic lights.
"…Other than the magic lights, there's nothing…"
"Exactly. That's what I want."
"Sorry?"
"Give me all the magic lights installed in this dungeon. That's more than enough for me."
There had been exactly 100 of them from the entrance onward. In other words, this dungeon was a treasure trove.