Andromalius scattered into dust.
The barrier disappeared.
There had been the minor incident of an elf selling off a spirit, but in any case, the situation was over.
"We really stopped Andromalius."
He already knew this was a future in which Aint could have stopped it even without his intervention.
Ordinarily, he would have preferred that. He had no desire to waste precious money just to leave behind a trace of his presence. He was far removed from heroism.
But he couldn't.
Because he could not simply sit and wait for a doomed future of destruction, he had moved.
And that butterfly effect had only made things harder for Aint.
He had no choice but to act.
Yet the more he acted, the more of a mess things became—and watching it unravel in real time left him with emotions far too complex to put into words.
Still, the most dangerous crisis had passed. There had been twists and turns, but in the end, Andromalius was summoned, and Aint killed him.
And Fernan had become not an enemy, but a perfect ally to Aint.
That was enough.
"Haha…."
Of course, this was only the beginning, but for Fernan, it was as if the great mountain blocking the path had finally been removed.
"Then what comes after this…."
At that moment, Ruina Berchef's body wavered. Fernan rushed forward to catch her.
"Are you still injured? I have plenty of potions."
"…It's not that. It's just… now that I realize we really won, suddenly my whole body feels drained…."
Perhaps when her tension released, exhaustion had struck her all at once. It was only natural.
Just standing against an adversary like Andromalius would sap one's mental strength—yet she had burned her body in combat.
Though she had been treated with potions, her injuries were far from light.
"Get some sleep."
"…Is that really okay?"
"I'll take care of the aftermath. Just don't forget what we agreed on when you wake up."
"Yes. I'll remember…."
Ruina's eyes closed. And right after she collapsed, Aint too fell and drifted into slumber.
"Aint as well. Looks like fatigue finally caught up."
"That's to be expected."
"Strange. I fought too, so why am I perfectly fine?"
"Because you didn't do anything."
"Can't you see these glorious battle scars I earned against the demon?"
"Look, the professors are coming. Don't forget what we discussed earlier."
"Who am I even talking to right now? Senior? Hello?"
Aria's hollow voice echoed softly.
Darkness roared.
Darkness surged forward. Inescapable dread and terror tightened around her.
She could not win.
Her hands—and her sword—trembled uncontrollably.
She wanted to run. Her body half-turned.
But in the end, her feet would not move.
Torment churned in her mind.
If she ran.
If she failed to stop the demon here.
What would become of the Academy? If she didn't at least delay it, the damage might grow beyond measure.
She was a knight.
Not just a trainee knight in the Academy's knight department, but a true knight, who had proven herself in the harsh North and earned a knighthood.
Sir Ruina Berchef.
She had wanted to become a knight.
And she had become one.
But what is a knight?
What kind of being is a knight?
She recalled fragments of the oath she had spoken when she received her knightly vows. Words she had spoken with her own lips.
"I will uphold honor, fight against evil, and establish justice."
Before her eyes stood evil clearer than any other.
"I will not live a false life, but always pursue only the truth."
Would running away, breaking her oath, truly be the path of pursuing truth?
"I will be loyal to my lord and to the Empire."
Would abandoning the nation she had sworn to serve—that be her vaunted chivalry?
"I will respect and protect the weak."
If she failed to kill the demon here, if she failed even to delay it, more weak lives would be lost.
If she betrayed even her own vows and convictions, if she failed to defend her homeland—how could she call herself a knight?
Some might call it foolish. But to her, knighthood was her life, her pride.
The Royal Knight Order had been her lifelong goal.
One who runs away cannot be a knight.
Before she knew it, she found herself running ahead of everyone else.
And in that moment, she opened her eyes.
It was the infirmary prepared within the Academy. Her clothes were soaked through with sweat.
Parched with a burning thirst, she instinctively reached out her hand.
"Here."
She gulped down the cool water filled with ice. Only after draining the cup in one breath did she see who had handed it to her.
"…Fernan?"
"You were unconscious for two days. The healer said your recovery ability is nothing short of astonishing."
"The demon…?"
"Don't you remember? Dead. You pierced its heart."
"Ah."
The memory came back. The sensation was still vivid. It had been the most terrifying moment of her life—but also the moment she overcame it.
"We really, truly won."
"Yes. We did. We took down the 72nd-ranked demon, Andromalius."
"Andromalius…."
It all felt strangely unreal, yet it was reality.
"What happened after that?"
"When the barrier collapsed, the professors and assistants finally arrived. We worked with them to clean up the situation."
After that, Fernan had also holed himself up in the infirmary under the pretext of injury. Though he should have been questioned, he wanted to confirm their story together one more time, to make it airtight.
"Aint woke up about half a day earlier. Aria and Verian weren't seriously injured to begin with. You were the last."
"Weren't we going to reveal the truth about the demon?"
"That was the plan."
And in the two days since, that resolve had only solidified further.
"You can tell them everything you experienced exactly as it was. Except for one thing."
"One thing?"
"The one sitting on my shoulder."
Wuden, realizing he was the one being referred to, tilted his head curiously.
"My and Wuden's involvement never happened."
"…Must it be that way? No, your role was tremendously important. But why…?"
"There's no need for a merchant to stand at the forefront."
The hero, the beacon of hope, must be Aint.
Much had already gone astray, but he believed that if at least the most important point remained intact, the fallout would be less severe.
"Do you understand?"
"…Honestly, it doesn't make sense to me."
From a knight's perspective, there was no reason to hide an achievement that would elevate her honor.
"But if that is your will, I will follow it."
"Good."
"No, I should be the one thanking you. You saved my life. Truly, thank you."
Ruina bowed her head deeply.
"The Headmaster has summoned you."
The Headmaster, who had been away on external business, had returned.
The moment they had been waiting for.
Though he had already spoken with some staff members, given the severity of the incident, the matter had inevitably risen all the way to the top of the Academy.
And the moment the Headmaster came back from his trip, a full-scale hearing was the expected course of action.
"The other students are being interviewed first. Please wait a moment."
"Yes."
When he reached the waiting room, the secretary served him tea.
The "other students" must be those who had fought alongside Fernan against Andromalius.
Ruina Berchef, Aint Armian, Aria Fridian, and Verian Karl….
Well, had that last one even fought properly? Still, he had been there.
'What should I say, and how?'
What they would ask was obvious enough. What remained was how he would answer.
The Headmaster of the Academy was a sly old fox. A clumsy lie would only backfire.
To be honest, up until very recently, he hadn't known how he should tell the story.
He couldn't easily judge which direction would be more beneficial.
But now, things were different.
Two days earlier, when Ruina was still unconscious, what he had hoped for had unfolded before his eyes.
"It was a demon."
The very first words Aint spoke upon entering the Headmaster's office.
The Headmaster's hand, which had been stirring milk into his tea, froze mid-motion.
"Andromalius. The seventy-second-ranked demon."
"…So you're saying."
The teaspoon resumed its circular motion, swirling the milk and tea into a cloudy blend.
"So you're saying you subjugated a demon."
"Yes."
A brief silence lingered.
"That's possible."
After some time, the Headmaster sipped his tea, then stroked his beard.
"When one first encounters demonic energy, it's only natural to be shaken. The denser the miasma, the greater the confusion."
—What is this crazy old man rambling about?
"Are you saying I'm lying?"
"I'm saying one could be mistaken. A monstrous creature so powerful it could be mistaken for a demon."
The page of the prophecy turned.
"What a ridiculous lie. Students slaying a demon?"
The secretary scoffed.
"Did he think this was his chance to restore the Armians' name?"
What was a demon?
The enemy of humanity, disaster incarnate. The idea that mere students had slain one defied all reason.
"Yet… I didn't see the look of a liar in his eyes."
"Then you believe it's true?"
"It can only be one of two things."
Either it truly was a demon—
Or he really believed the monstrous beast had been a demon.
"So they intended to ruin our festival, did they?"
That was something utterly intolerable. The opposite—perhaps—but not that.
"We'll root out the vermin that have slipped into the Academy. Neither alive nor dead, we'll put them on display at the Founding Day Festival. Wouldn't that be amusing?"
If, at the festival's peak, they doused the flames with the blood of the Empire's ancient foes—
Ho, ho, ho. The Headmaster burst into hearty laughter.
That was the end of the talk about the summoned demon.
The prophecy turned to the next subject.
An ironclad steed running….
—Well done. At this pace….
It spoke of things soon to come within the Academy, of hidden arrangements yet to unfold.
—This is obsidian steel.
"Obsidian steel? The ore famed for its magical resistance?"
—Fortunate indeed. Not quite mithril, but still a valuable metal.
There were trivial notes as well—things of little weight in the grand scheme, but highly profitable all the same.
"…."
Fernan focused on the first prophecy.
Right after surmounting the colossal mountain that was Andromalius, only one dilemma remained.
Should he keep the secret of the demon—or not?
Until now, Fernan had kept it hidden because it had been the more advantageous path.
That was the natural course of things.
It was the best way for Aint to grow, through real combat and experience.
'If rumors of demons spread recklessly and hype builds, but Aint fails to rise above it—then everything collapses.'
But this time was different.
The descent of Andromalius had unleashed an unprecedented battle, and while the demon itself might not be known, everyone had felt the lingering stain of that overwhelming demonic miasma.
The truth about the monstrous foe could not be concealed.
But how far would the story spread?
And what of the demon itself?
Until recently, he hadn't had a clear answer.
But now, things were different.
"Student Fernan."
Creak—the secretary entered, opening the door.
"The Headmaster is waiting for you."
"Yes."
The course was decided.
There was no longer any need to hide.