The demon had been summoned and stopped by the students, but time flowed on regardless.
The academy concealed what had happened regarding the demon while secretly beginning to track the demonkind.
Thus, the Andromalius summoning incident was, for the moment, settled.
"There wasn't a riot caused by people infected with demonic energy."
The aftermath still lingered heavily, shaking the academy in ways both seen and unseen.
Normally, those tainted by demonic energy would have run amok, throwing the academy into greater chaos.
Naturally, the professors and assistants would have been too busy quelling the disorder to respond properly to the demon, which should have placed an even greater burden on Aint.
But this time, none of that occurred.
"Why?"
If things were like this, then it meant there was no point in going around with the Saint and the Order, treating those who had been corrupted.
What had been the point of the Saint splitting her time, even going out to evangelize?
"No, maybe it was because she did that very thing that nothing happened."
But that explanation didn't quite fit. The number of corrupted people Jace had found wasn't many at all. Compared to the numbers he'd seen in the prophecy, it was laughably insufficient.
And what's more—
"Recently, we haven't found a single one. Could it be there just aren't any left anymore, brother?"
"Since when?"
"About two days before you were injured?"
The people who had been corrupted by demonic energy had completely disappeared. They weren't missing—rather, the demonic energy that had tainted them had itself vanished.
This was by no means the result of Jace's actions.
Nor did it make sense that they'd gone into hiding out of fear. If that were the case, they wouldn't have summoned the demon in the first place.
"…There's something I'm overlooking."
But what, he couldn't grasp.
"Overlooking something?"
"It's nothing."
Fernan swallowed his words. It seemed he had muttered his thoughts aloud while lost in contemplation.
"So, what did the Chancellor say?"
"He said he won't hold me accountable, at least for now."
"That's unexpected."
If Aria had still been half-deranged from the attack of the demonkind, that would have been one thing.
But she'd been healed, fully recovered, and could have taken precautions regarding the World Tree branch—yet hadn't. And still, he let it slide?
"It's not like I don't have a guess…"
He roughly knew the Chancellor's character. Still, it would be best to confirm.
"That's not something you should be saying, senior! I told you from the start we should have handled it!"
Aria shouted, still deeply resentful that a demon had been summoned through the branch of the World Tree.
"Phew… calm down, Aria. You're a cultured elf. Use pretty words, gentle words."
Always making a scene, that one.
"Just tell me what the Chancellor actually said."
"…And why should I tell you that, senior?"
Aria smiled faintly, regaining her composure.
"I cooperated with you only for the safety of my Mother Tree's branch. That's no longer necessary, is it?"
"Didn't you say you wanted connections?"
"I said I wanted connections, not to be taken advantage of. Honestly, you're the one at a disadvantage now, aren't you?"
That was true. Whatever conversation Aria had with the Chancellor, and however the academy planned to respond to the loss of the World Tree branch—those matters would shape the future in significant ways.
"That's fine, then."
There was no need to humble himself. He'd dealt with plenty of people like Aria before.
Faces that seemed innocent while spreading poison to ensnare others. If you bent once, they'd keep twisting until they held you tight.
"Fine? What do you mean, fine?"
"I've already heard enough."
"But I haven't said anything yet?"
"You said they'd let it go, right? Then there are only two possibilities. Either the Fridien family offered something else to smooth things over, or he never intended to make an issue of it in the first place."
And there was only one scenario where the latter was true.
"Summoning a demon is no simple matter. It's not something that could happen just because a single branch of the World Tree was neglected."
"..."
"Above all, no elf would ever neglect a branch of the World Tree. So clearly, it wasn't your fault. Right?"
"…It wasn't."
"Then fine."
Fernan confirmed everything from her expression, then rose from his seat without hesitation.
"Wait a second!"
"What is it?"
"Ah, I was joking, joking. Surely we're not at the point where we can't tease each other a little?"
"What are we, exactly?"
"People who introduce and exchange connections?"
"Your entire measure of friendship is connections?"
Good grief. Even obsession with connections has its limits.
"I know it's strange. But if you think about it, you're the one who made me like this."
"Me?"
"Not just you—your family, and the other Elector families."
"Don't blame others."
"I'm only telling the truth."
"So what are you trying to say?"
"That maybe you have some questions for me. I'm ready to answer sincerely."
Then, cautiously, Aria asked:
"…You haven't forgotten your promise to introduce me to a professor or another Elector heir, have you?"
"A merchant lives and dies on his credibility."
"As expected of you. I've always trusted you, senior."
"And if that Elector heir turned out to be me?"
"…You fraud!"
"I was joking."
"So was I."
Aria let out a fake laugh.
After finishing his conversation with Aria, Fernan immediately moved on to the next matter.
[An armored horse thundered across the field.
A knight lowered his stance and thrust his lance forward.
As the two crossed paths, a powerful shockwave burst outward.
Even so, no conclusion was reached. The knights passed one another, then wheeled their horses around and charged again.
Three times they clashed. When no victor emerged, both dismounted and drew their swords.
The ensuing duel thrilled every spectator's eyes.
"The winner—First-year of the Knight Faculty, Aint Armian!"
After fifty exchanges, a victor was declared.
"Gillette Piens lost?"
"…Aint Armian won?"
"This makes no sense! He was ranked fifth among the third-years in the Knight Faculty!"
"To lose to a first-year… it's a disgrace to the third-years!"
"This is rigged! My money! I bet everything on Gillette Piens!"
"…So Armian hasn't completely fallen yet."]
At the time, Fernan had been too preoccupied with the Chancellor's business to dwell on it. But the prophecy did not only speak of the Chancellor's actions.
[- Well done. Keep this momentum and win the jousting tournament.
Even if you don't win right away, you'll still have three more chances until your fourth year. But the future is never certain.
The champions of the jousting tournament and the magic duels earned the right to enter a vault created by the First Emperor and carefully maintained by the academy.
And, most importantly, the right to claim a single treasure from within.
"What kind of treasure?"
There are many things. But the one you must aim for is armor.
Armor forged—like me with the sword, though it sounds strange to call myself that—anyway, armor forged from a blend of mithril and adamant.
Hidden away so that no one can simply take it.]
The jousting tournament and the magic duels: the academy's grandest festivals and greatest competitions. And within them, another secret arrangement of the First Emperor.
"How's your body?"
"I'm fine."
Once again, the importance of Aint Armian, the protagonist of the prophecy, was proven.
Even small exchanges to maintain their connection were crucial.
"If anything feels wrong, come to me anytime. Don't hesitate."
"Yes, thank you."
"Ah, are you entering the jousting tournament?"
"I intend to."
"I see. Very well."
Aint paused just as he was about to rise.
"By the way, senior… that golem."
"You mean Wuden?"
"Yes. That golem, Wuden—may I ask what it was made from? Forgive me if the question is impolite."
"No, it's fine. I built it with a large amount of adamant and mithril mixed together."
"Thank you for telling me."
Aint exited the secret chamber.
I knew it! Of course, it could only be mithril and adamant alloy!
That's the only way it could withstand demons, and the only way it could house a spirit to become an ego golem!
Gardner burst into laughter, pleased that his speculation was correct.
"You were right, Gardner."
But strange… how did he know that mithril is a vessel for souls?
No one should know that.
As far as Gardner knew, the only person who had ever thought to bind souls into mithril was the First Emperor himself.
"Perhaps he'd wanted to create an ego golem for a long time. Maybe he researched it in his own way."
True enough. It's been a thousand years. For not a single human to conceive of using mithril to contain a soul until now would itself be strange.
Gardner figured the man must have uncovered the results of such research by paying a fortune.
Even so, to build a golem mostly out of adamant and mithril alloy… only the rich and foolish could squander money like that.
Still, the fact that such a being stood as an ally for now—and that while demons were trying to plunge the world into ruin, he would not be an enemy—was something positive.
At any rate, apart from the demon's summoning, it seems things will be resolved more quietly than expected.
"Indeed. And it was a demon, no less."
It's simply too early to make it public. Understandable.
That didn't mean they were wholly trustworthy. After all, weren't these the same incompetent fools who failed to notice demonkind hiding within their own academy?
Their incompetence has limits. To have parasites nesting right under their noses and not realize it.
If the Late Emperor knew, he'd rise from his grave and throw them all to the demons as feed.
If they love demons so much, they should feed themselves to them first.
"The more I hear, the more I wonder what kind of man the First Emperor really was."
A hero. Though not a saint.
In fact, perhaps "madman" was the better word.
To fight demons, sanity is a heavier burden.
In any case—
Whether the academy is incompetent or not, the best thing you can do now is what lies within your power.
To build a name within the academy.
And to grow stronger.
Aint arrived at the private training hall prepared for academy students. He sat cross-legged in the very center.
So what you must do right now…
He laid his sword across his knees.
Is to make Andromalius's demonic energy completely your own.
The summoning of Andromalius was only the beginning.
He closed his eyes.
Winning the jousting tournament is important too. For the armor!
"Yes!"
Black demonic energy and pure white light intertwined, wrapping around Aint.
Crack!
Bonsai shears snapped the trunk of a miniature tree in half.
But the man's hands did not stop.
Crack, crack. With every cut of the shears, another bonsai lost its shape.
"The seventh is dead. He attempted escape but failed, and in the end chose suicide."
"..."
"The third hideout was discovered by Grad Kshant and his Guardian Corps."
The Guardian Corps was a military force directly under the academy's control.
Certain professors led them, and some assistants were part of them as well.
"…It was inevitable."
From the moment Andromalius was summoned—no, even from the moment he was called forth—his defeat had already been inevitable.
And yet, that didn't make it any less distasteful.
Everything had been foreseen, accounted for.
Measures had been taken, contingencies prepared—sacrifices planned, like a lizard severing its tail.
"Aint Armian…"
The one they had gone to such lengths to erase—even at the cost of exposure and sacrifice—was still alive and well.
"How very amusing."
This was an outcome he had never once imagined. Never once considered possible.
"Andromalius… so much for a so-called demon. How utterly incompetent must you be?"
It was laughable.
That a mighty demon had been defeated by a mere five students.
Even if it had been a hasty summoning, even if most of his true power had been sealed—
They had still gathered up the scattered demonic energy from across the academy to fuel the summoning circle, leaving no room for failure.
"And yet, all the continent learned of the demons' resurgence from this incident, and we have gained nothing."
And worse—
"Aint Armian now possesses that accursed sword."
The First Emperor's blade, forged to hunt demons and absorb their power.
Much of its strength had long since been lost to time, but with this event, it would have absorbed Andromalius's power.
Far from killing the boy, they had only strengthened him.
"According to plan, three strongholds and twelve of the demonkin will be sacrificed soon. But beyond that, they will find nothing more."
"Of course."
Save for Andromalius being far more incompetent than expected, everything remained within the man's grasp.
The Chancellor convening the academy's leadership, the secret investigations—they were all moves he had anticipated, orchestrated even.
They would never uncover more than what he allowed.
But that did not erase the failure.
"Knowing the Chancellor, he will likely speak of the demonkin during the upcoming Founding Day celebrations."
That, however, could not be permitted.
"We will make the first move."
Divert all eyes away from the academy.
"Your Excellency."
Another shadow emerged.
"Speak."
"A message from the north has arrived."
The man's face twisted slightly.
"So soon."
With reluctant steps, he moved to open the storeroom door. Just as he reached it—
"..."
His eyes hardened.
Ding-ling—
The door opened.
"Closed today, due to personal circumstances."
A woman with long, midnight-blue hair that flowed down to her waist stepped forward slowly, one measured step at a time.
"I even left a sign at the entrance. Did you not see it?"
"I saw."
"Then why?"
"Neither of us has time to waste with long conversations."
Her pale hand brushed against a row of books on the shelf. Crack—! A biting frost raced outward, freezing the tomes solid.
"Shall we do this the easy way—or the hard way?"
"…Haa."
The man sighed.
"How did you find out?"
"What an amusing question. The only reason your kind has been allowed to crawl along until now is because we did not bother with you. Demonkin, who sold your souls for filth."
"It seems you're mistaken."
The man smiled pleasantly.
"I bathe every single day. I'm quite clean. Not as obsessively spotless as you, Professor Rosalia, but still."
He flipped open a book at his side. The runes inscribed within lit up as they met his mana.
Bzzzt!
A blue bolt of lightning shot forth in a straight line.
It was caught effortlessly by a wall of white ice.
"You're wrong as well."
Crack, crack—! Frost spread across the ground, shackling the man's feet.
"I have no 'obsession with cleanliness.' I simply refuse to look upon filth."
Crash!
Dozens of ice lances tore through the man's body.
"Filth like you, demonkin."
Not a single drop of frozen blood touched the floor.