The most important thing in successful betting was to wager on a certain winner.
In that sense, Fernan's odds were higher than anyone else's.
Because through prophecy, he knew roughly who would rise and who would fall.
With one exception: Aint Armian.
The Aint in the prophecy and the Aint now are very different.
Since meeting Fernan, many things had happened, and in the process, Aint had deviated quite a bit from the future that had once been set.
The problem was that Fernan didn't know whether those changes were for the better or worse.
So he couldn't be certain whether Aint's ranking would follow the prophecy or not.
In the prophecy, Aint reaches the semifinals.
And there, he loses to Ruina.
In a way, it made sense.
Aint was undeniably strong, and he had defeated Andromalius—but only because the Armian swordsmanship was the perfect counter to that demon.
In pure swordsmanship, in raw skill alone, Aint still could not defeat Ruina.
Of course, given his overwhelming growth rate, that wouldn't remain true for long. But at least in this jousting tournament—
Still, the past had already changed, so Fernan couldn't be sure it would play out the same.
Should I test Aint? Ask him if he can beat Ruina?
Not that an answer would come of it.
Thinking about it won't solve anything. Best to just watch until the semifinals.
Fernan finished his thoughts and left the dormitory, heading toward the merchant company. The festival and the betting house meant his schedule was buried under work.
Then, in his line of sight, he spotted Aint sitting on a bench.
"Aint Armian?"
At Fernan's call, Aint blinked and returned from staring blankly up at the sky.
"Ah, Senior Fernan."
"What are you doing, sitting around daydreaming?"
"Ah, well…"
He had been calming the power of Andromalius that he had absorbed.
The demon's strength was formed of poisonous demonic energy, and unless he fully assimilated it, it would sometimes surge out of control.
But he couldn't say that aloud.
—Just make up something. Say you were reflecting on the battle with the demon.
"I was thinking about the abominations."
"The abominations?"
"Didn't we defeat Andromalius? I was wondering if the abominations, with their plans ruined, might try something else. I can't imagine they'll stay quiet."
"Try something else, huh."
Fernan tapped his knee with a finger.
It wasn't an impossible thought. After all, the time people let their guard down most was right after finishing a task.
Having killed Andromalius and swept the Academy clean of abominations, the Academy was indeed at ease.
"The Founding Day Festival really would be the perfect stage for chaos."
The setting was flawless. If they wanted to cause havoc, this would be the time.
But Fernan knew it wouldn't happen.
"Don't worry about that. At least until the festival ends, nothing will happen."
"How can you be so sure?"
Because he had read it. But he couldn't say that.
"When Andromalius was summoned, the sacrifice was a corrupted branch of the World Tree. There's no way they could get something like that again in such a short time."
"That's true, but still…"
"Besides, most of the Academy's spies have been purged. In this situation, do you think they'd have the leisure to try anything?"
They wouldn't. Honestly, Fernan didn't need prophecy to know that.
Sure, they could lash out in desperation, but the Chancellor wasn't so sloppy.
"Yeah, that's true. I admit, I was worried."
"Worried about what, exactly?"
"With so many imperial dignitaries gathered here, if something happens, the Empire itself would be paralyzed. If the abominations unleashed hordes of monsters, they could even start a war…"
"A war? That's going too far."
Of course, in the distant future, a great war for the fate of the world would come. But not yet—
"Ugh…!"
In that moment—
──!
With a thunderous crash, Fernan felt his skull split with pain.
His vision blacked out. And then, a new world unfolded before him.
Not an ordinary prophecy—this was more vivid, more dreadful.
The sky was blood-red.
Just like when he foresaw Andromalius's summoning, and when Andromalius had appeared.
Don't tell me… another demon is being summoned?
On the high fortress wall, Aint stood with his back to the people.
Ruina walked up beside him.
["Aint."
"Senior, honestly, I'm scared. But remember what you said last time? A knight is both the sword that strikes his lord's enemies, and the shield that protects his lord."
A knight neither abandons his lord nor dies after his lord.
"…You didn't have to remember that."
"No. Thanks to you, I feel a little calmer."]
Shrring—Aint drew his sword. His treasured blade gleamed with a soft light.
["Just between us, Senior, I want to restore my family."
He wanted to rebuild the fallen house and return it to its rightful place.
"You…"
"Someone once told me—the Emperor is the knight of the Empire."
So how could I abandon the Empire and run away?]
Time sped up. Now, atop the wall, thousands of soldiers stood.
Aint and Ruina, and the other first-years, all stared out over the vast plain below.
And there—
They came.
Grrroooaar—
Krrrrrr—
A vast horde of monsters, raising clouds of dust. Beasts and magical creatures. And at the end of them—
He stood.
["…A demon? This is insane…"
"A real demon? Ha… we're all dead!"
"We have to run!"
"Run? To where?"]
Before the crushing demonic presence, all trembled in terror.
A real demon?
Fernan was aghast. This demon was not like before.
Unlike Andromalius, this one was not alone.
He was a commander, leading thousands—perhaps tens of thousands—of monsters and beasts that filled the plain.
Fernan tried to make out the demon's figure, but the distance was too great.
["All your struggles are meaningless. Wait quietly for death—that is your fate."
"N-no…"
"I don't want to die…"]
The demon's low voice only deepened their fear.
Then, Aint raised his sword high and drew in his aura.
Warm light surged forth, wrapping the entire wall. It swept away the demonic energy laced in the voice, steadying minds and hearts.
["Everyone, get a hold of yourselves!"
"No matter if it's a demon—will you cower and wait for death?"
"Will you die because it tells you to?"
"No! There's no reason for that. No inevitability."
"A thousand years ago, the First Emperor defeated all demons and King Kolomo, saving the world. They are not invincible!"]
Aint's speech was not particularly eloquent.
But because his light pushed back the demonic energy and the fear, it planted courage.
It made them realize that if they did not win, there was no future, and so their rage and grit grew.
Aint Armian—his very existence gave birth to hope.
["Yeah, whether we die standing still or die fighting, it's the same!"
"We have Aint Armian with us!"
"The nemesis of demons!"]
Hope—or else fury and desperation.
Harsh shouts and cries filled the fortress wall.
And at that moment—
Bwooooh! The horns of war blared across the battlefield.
That was the beginning.
Dudududududu—
The monsters, the magical beasts, roared. Across the wide plains, raising clouds of dust, they charged toward the fortress.
["Prepare for battle!"
"Battle stations!"
"Everyone, move to your posts!"]
Knights took position along the front of the wall. Mages began chanting spells.
The enemy army closed in swiftly.
Brilliant spells rained down among them. Screams and howls rose up.
And finally, as the beasts reached the wall—
["Glory to the Dusky Spear Mercenaries!"
"Knights of the Iron Cross, stand against the foe!"
"Soldiers! Face the enemy and protect the kingdom!"]
["Eternal be the Armian Empire!"
"Eternal be the Armian Empire!"
"Eternal be the Armian Empire!"]
The vision ended.
"..."
Fernan gasped harshly for air. Bloodshot eyes, veins bulging across his body.
"Huff… huff…!"
The demonic energy he had felt was far beyond anything Andromalius had radiated.
The chilling sensation lingered, goosebumps running over his skin. His head throbbed as if splitting apart, his fingertips trembling violently.
"…Senior? Why are you sweating all of a sudden… are you alright?"
"…I'm fine."
He was not fine. This was the first time he had ever confronted such horrific demonic energy.
Who the hell was that bastard?
Fernan suddenly shot to his feet.
"Senior?"
"I just remembered an appointment. We'll talk later."
"Senior!"
In a flash, he was gone. Left behind, Aint only stared blankly at his departing back.
"…What on earth was that?"
—It's like before. Just for a moment, but his focus suddenly blurred.
"I don't feel anything unusual nearby though?"
—Nor do I. Honestly, I can't make sense of it.
—Maybe it's some chronic illness.
"Well, that does sound the most plausible. I guess money can't cure everything. Whatever sickness it is, it looked extremely painful."
—He's rich. He'll manage somehow.
—If you've calmed all the demonic energy, let's head back to the Lavitus Hall and finish absorbing it.
—If the same problem flares up in an emergency later, it'll be troublesome.
"Yes."
Aint returned to Lavitus Hall.
"Demon… demon…!"
Fernan had gone to the library.
Among the few books on demons, he pulled out King Kolomo and the 72 Demons.
It didn't detail them deeply, but it at least described their features and appearances.
"No… not this one… not that one…"
He flipped through rapidly.
Though he hadn't seen clearly from afar, he remembered the few distinct features that had stood out.
And at last—
"…Found it."
Fernan's eyes locked onto the demon he had seen in prophecy.
*"The 64th demon, Flauros.
A demon in the form of a leopard. He can transform into human form, during which he appears wearing a leopard's head and draped in leopard skin."*
Human-shaped, but with a leopard's face and a leopard hide over him. This was the one.
"…The 64th demon, Flauros?"
Fernan's grip on the book tightened.
Why did the 64th appear right after the 72nd? What about the others?
No—calm down. The rankings of demons aren't a scale of strength or hierarchy, they're just numbers.
That was written clearly in the front of King Kolomo and the 72 Demons.
So there shouldn't be an overwhelming difference in power between the 72nd and the 64th.
…Then what was that demonic energy?
It had felt on a completely different level from Andromalius.
Sweating cold, Fernan forced himself to keep reading.
There was more written about Flauros.
*"Flauros is an exceptionally skilled warrior.
His red eyes are always burning, and through his authority he commands fire."*
A fire-wielding leopard warrior, then…
"…Hahaha."
This time, he had hoped there wouldn't be any danger. That he could just comfortably make money.
"Damn it."
But what awaited was the descent of a monster on a whole other level than Andromalius.
And in line with his epithet, the Legion Commander of Hell, he would be bringing a massive army with him.
Shit. How the hell are we supposed to stop this?
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