The academy reopened.
With all the students who had left for their family estates now returned, the once quiet academy began to bustle again.
"This semester as well, I'll be counting on you."
"The same goes for me."
Fernan attended the first paired lecture of the second semester together with Ruina.
The subject was "Studies on Magical Beasts and Monsters." But since it was the first day, there wasn't anything significant.
The lecture ended simply with a brief outline of the plans for the coming weeks.
"Fernan."
"Rudger."
"I heard the news. Quite a serious matter, wasn't it? They say there was a cult inside the academy?"
Rudger sidled closer and whispered softly.
'So the word has spread.'
The incident with the demons was far too great a matter for the Headmaster to bear alone. Even if he was an Archmage whom not even the Emperor of the Empire dared to rashly provoke.
But the Headmaster did not belong to any faction in particular. Thus, instead of limiting the news to a single house, he informed all the princely houses.
The Pellenberg family included. Just before the term began, Fernan received a letter from his father, saying he had heard about the cult.
"A cult, huh. When I first heard of it, I was utterly shocked."
If that was my reaction just hearing about it, for you who experienced it firsthand, it must have been worse.
"So? How were they? Those wretches who could not forget the demons and chose to follow them?"
"This isn't really the place to talk about that."
"It's fine. I've already cast a sound-blocking spell."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"Then are you saying you'll only answer if I directly ask how the cult was?"
And that's supposed to be a question?
"Of course not, Rudger Schwaben."
Fernan extended his hand.
"But if the price is right, I might be willing to tell you."
After all, there's nothing a merchant cannot sell—"information" included.
"…Yes, you were always that kind of man. I'd forgotten for a moment, being apart over the break."
Rudger let out a dry laugh.
"Then, how much?"
"That depends on your sincerity."
"So the sincerity of your information changes depending on mine?"
"As expected of a prince—you grasp it without me having to say it twice."
At Fernan's sly grin, Rudger let out a heavy sigh.
"Then how much would it take to keep your mouth shut to others?"
"Is there really a need? Surely you know I wasn't the only one there."
The Headmaster may not have said who exactly had confronted the cultists, but the academy was crawling with each family's spies.
Hiding it completely was impossible—and there was no intention to, either.
"Let me correct that. How much to silence not only you, but also everyone else who faced the cult?"
"1 trillion gold."
"…Are you insane?"
"No, you are. You're asking for the impossible."
"I thought you were the one who said that with money, nothing in this world is impossible?"
"Exactly. So I'm saying, if you hand me 1 trillion gold, I'll find a way to make it happen."
"Tch." Rudger clicked his tongue briefly.
A heavy pouch landed in Fernan's palm. Inside, a heap of gold coins gleamed.
"Then at least tell me what you know."
"In that case, let's move. Even with sound blocked, we're drawing too much attention here."
They had moved to a corner, but it was still in front of the lecture hall. Many students passing by were sneaking glances at them.
"Fine."
Fernan began recounting what had happened.
Naturally, it wasn't the unvarnished truth—just a slightly embellished version of what he'd told the Headmaster.
The demon became "the cult."
No doubt about it, there was no reason to reveal the very thing the Headmaster was desperate to conceal.
Having earned some extra income from Rudger, Fernan began organizing his plans.
"Hm."
The prophecy that surfaced this time, arriving at just the right moment, had little to do with danger or demons.
Yet, it was without question an important future.
For Aint, who needed to win the jousting tournament in order to obtain the arrangement left behind by the First Emperor.
And for Fernan, who now knew the key winners of both the jousting and the magical duels.
"This is a chance to make a fortune."
During the Academy Festival, where the jousting and magical duels would take place, gambling was officially permitted.
The academy itself organized the betting for the participants, and with the academy's tacit approval, Fernan often ran larger, more discreet wagers of his own.
Until now, he had avoided reckless bets, only putting down money on outcomes that were certain. But with knowledge of the future, there was no reason not to take advantage of even the smaller matches.
"If all goes well, I might earn as much as the branch's yearly profits."
One should not dismiss it as mere student matches.
Aside from the Imperial Capital Festival presided over by the Emperor, the Academy's founding anniversary was the largest event in the Empire.
The wealth of the parents who flocked here to watch their children was beyond imagination.
It was no coincidence that the academy was called the Empire's cradle—or that the cultists had sought to shatter it first.
"No need to bet on every match."
The prophecy book wasn't that detailed to begin with.
But at the very least, Fernan could see clearly who would reach the quarterfinals in each tournament. Betting only on them left no room for failure.
"Roughly six expected candidates, and two surprising dark horses."
Not bad. Especially since those two dark horses looked likely to bring him a tidy sum.
"…Which reminds me, I needed to talk with you as well."
— Koong?
Fernan extended a finger. Wooden, who had been scampering about on the table, cheerfully grabbed it and shook.
Wooden, about twenty centimeters tall, was roughly the size of a doll. With lightweight magic engraved into its form, it could easily pass for a decorative figurine if it stood still.
Keeping it in subspace would be ideal, but once Wooden had gone inside, it vehemently refused to return—insisting it never wanted to go back to that empty void again.
"Even with a contract and obedience sigils carved into the golem, treating it that way wouldn't be good in the long run."
There was no need to overthink it. Spirits are simple beings. Contract or not, if they dislike something, they simply dislike it.
Though bound by contract and unable to escape his grasp, a spirit with no will or drive would only see its performance deteriorate.
"Carrying it on my shoulder is out of the question…"
To go around advertising that he had created an Ego Golem would be ridiculous. And at his age, walking around with a golem perched on his shoulder would only invite gossip.
"Wooden, shrink smaller."
— Kung?
In an instant, Wooden shrank down to about one centimeter—its smallest possible size.
Click. Fernan joined the clasp protruding from Wooden's head with a chain, turning it into a pendant.
The idea came from Aint, who carried his sword in the form of a necklace.
— Kung-kung!
Wooden squirmed in protest, clearly uncomfortable.
"If not like this, then you'll have to stay in subspace all the time. This way is better, don't you think?"
At the mention of subspace, Wooden froze.
— Kuuuung?
"Yes. Hang quietly as a pendant and I'll never force you back into subspace. Of course, not always—I'll let you out when it's just the two of us."
Between the endless monotony of subspace and being restrained yet still able to feel the outside world, Wooden chose the latter without hesitation.
Thus, a necklace came to rest around Fernan's neck.
The Academy had countless facilities prepared for its students.
Particularly, private training grounds, group arenas, drill fields, and sparring grounds—all open at any time for personal training or duels.
"..."
"..."
And at one such training ground, two students faced each other.
Aint Armian. Heir to the former imperial house of Armian, and though only a few knew the truth, a slayer of demons—their natural enemy.
And standing across from him, sword raised, was Berian Kalburden.
Scion of a knightly family, second in renown only to the princely houses.
Heavy silence weighed between the two.
A gentle breeze blew, and a lone autumn leaf dropped between them.
The very next moment, both students kicked off the ground of the dueling arena at the same time.
Claaang!
As their swords clashed, a shockwave rippled outward in all directions.
With their permission, Aria had been watching the duel. She flicked her hand lightly, dispersing the shockwave before it could reach her.
"..."
Chin resting on her hand, she stared at the arena with an expressionless face.
The second and third place of the first-year knight department.
The very fact that she was witnessing their duel meant her time at the academy had not been in vain.
Even if it was a reward she had earned from battling demons.
'Becoming close with Aint Armian is the greatest gain of all.'
Aria had clearly seen Aint's brilliance during the battle against the demons.
That dazzling light of destruction revealed why the Armian bloodline was called the demons' natural enemy.
She had only approached him first because the Armian family was the weakest among the princely houses.
Still, the harvest was worthwhile. Aint was a pearl still buried in the mud.
'And Berian Kalburden as well.'
Though not a princely heir, the Kalburden family's prestige was no small thing.
And yet, it wasn't wholly pleasant.
Why was that?
"Senior Fernan Pellenberg…"
Yes. Because of him.
"…Strange."
He was utterly unlike anyone else she had met until now.
"Normally by this point, the tension should have eased…"
So why, even after all this time, did their conversations still feel so sharp, so on edge?
He continued to keep her at arm's length.
Even the fool who feared his father too much to return home, and the supposedly hollow old prince who turned out to be surprisingly formidable—neither of them regarded her with such wariness anymore.
'Is it just my imagination that I'm the one being outmaneuvered instead?'
When she transported the branch of the Mother Tree.
When the branch was completely corrupted.
And even with the Ego Golem.
In the end, everything had gone Fernan's way. The summoning of a demon through the corrupted branch might not have been part of his plan—but still.
She shook her head.
It was just her imagination. After all, she had gained much: the yacht club invitation, new connections.
It was true she had gone along with Fernan's designs, but she had benefitted even more.
The branch of the Mother Tree was destined to be corrupted anyway, and the Ego Golem had been Fernan's creation from the start.
'Yes, that's right. But the fact that he still regards me with caution… that part isn't my imagination.'
"Aria!"
"Look out!"
A sharp cry jolted her from her thoughts.
A wooden practice sword—until moments ago in someone's grasp—came flying at her in a long arc.
It carried a trace of aura; if she took the blow unguarded, the injury would be serious.
'Berian's.'
Aint still held his sword, while Berian's torn hand was empty.
Aria reached out her hand. The aura within the wooden blade dwindled under the spirits' influence, and the sword was drawn gently into her grasp.
"So Aint won, huh? Well, he's different from someone too scared of his daddy to go home!"
"You…!"
"This time you didn't pass out?"
"You damned pointy-eared brat!"
Aria let out the most innocent laugh.