"Waaaaaah!"
The thunderous cheers of the crowd shook the massive stadium, large enough to hold up to fifty thousand people.
"Third-year Knight Faculty, Valia Anus!"
At the referee's call, Valia Anus rode forward on his horse at a steady pace.
"His opponent—third-year Knight Faculty, Gismond Ert!"
From the opposite end, Gismond Ert appeared, mounted on a black steed.
'So that's the guy.'
Fernan, seated in the VIP section, studied him closely.
Gismond Ert.
Third-year student of the Academy's Knight Faculty.
Right after confirming yesterday that two of the sixteen predicted finalists had been defeated, Fernan immediately investigated Gismond's background.
Until last year, he had been a nobody.
Just being admitted into the Academy was proof of talent worthy of recognition anywhere across the continent, but within the Academy he had been thoroughly average.
First-year, first semester rank: 55th.
First-year, second semester rank: 53rd.
Second-year, first semester rank: 52nd.
Neither particularly outstanding, nor abysmally weak—just plain average.
'And then he suddenly changed.'
Second-year, second semester rank: 49th.
His first time breaking into the forties.
Third-year, first semester rank: 22nd.
In a single semester, he had jumped 27 places.
And during the break, something happened—he defeated two Knight Faculty students who were objectively superior to him and advanced into the top 32 of the jousting tournament.
'…Does this even make sense?'
Fernan himself had been hiding a portion of his ability from the start, aided by artifacts.
But Gismond Ert was different.
'The Ert barony is nothing noteworthy.'
Just one of the countless minor baron houses of the Empire, subsisting off small farmland.
He didn't have the wealth to casually wield artifacts like Fernan. Nor did he have any reason to deliberately conceal his true power.
'So what the hell is going on?'
What kind of man suddenly appears from nowhere just to make me lose money?
He had never once been mentioned in the prophecy book.
Did some hidden potential explode overnight? Or did he gorge himself on some secret elixirs?
But that wasn't the only problem.
Gismond had already eliminated two students who were destined for the Round of 16.
'By the structure of a single-elimination bracket, the 16 finalists are never supposed to meet before then.'
Meaning it was possible for Gismond to defeat one, but never two.
For that to happen, the bracket itself had already diverged from what it should have been.
'So in the original future, he wasn't even a participant?'
If that was the case, then everything about the jousting tournament going forward could deviate completely from the prophecy.
"…Damn, this pisses me off."
"Still, all the others matched, and it's only two people, isn't it?"
"Not just only two—two is already too many."
And no one could predict how many more would follow.
'The broken bracket means two more such clashes will happen.'
People who were never meant to meet were now crossing paths.
"Ready!"
At the referee's signal, Valia Anus and Gismond Ert positioned themselves at opposite ends of the stage. Lowering their lances, they fixed their stares on each other.
"Begin!"
The signal dropped.
Thunderrrr—
Both steeds tore into the ground with pounding hooves.
Snorting heavily, the horses closed the distance in an instant.
Their riders lowered their lances, aiming with precision.
───!
A piercing shatter ripped the air. The unresolved shockwave swept outwards, but the prearranged protective barrier shielded the crowd.
Whinnnnny—!
The horses screamed under the violent impact, staggering in protest.
The students galloped past each other, wheeled around at the far end, and charged again.
Thunderrrr—
The fleeting silence shattered once more.
Claaang—!
The second collision. Their lances struck and splintered.
Horses shrieked, students grunted through clenched teeth.
Another pass. Another reversal.
"This won't end with the joust alone."
"It rarely ever does, even if it's called a jousting match."
True to Fernan and Hyde's words, the third clash also failed to decide the victor.
"Dismount!"
The referee commanded, and both Valia and Gismond leapt off their horses, casting aside lances and drawing swords.
According to the rules of jousting: if no victor was determined in three charges, combatants dismounted to settle the match with swords.
"Fight!"
Sharp auras flared along their blades.
Gismond's aura was a brown shade, similar to his hair.
"Hyde, what do you think?"
"In terms of aura refinement, Valia Anus is superior."
"But in terms of sheer aura volume, Gismond Ert has the advantage."
"Yes."
It was plain to see.
Valia's aura was sharper, denser. Gismond's was crude and chaotic, but vast enough to overwhelm.
"Did he really gobble down a load of elixirs or something?"
That seemed the most plausible explanation.
But if so, where did he get them?
In the true timeline, he hadn't taken any—that's why he never stood out, never even entered the tournament.
And the Ert barony certainly didn't have the money.
'…Could it be magi?'
Fernan had already experienced how magi corruption could bolster auras.
While Fernan and Hyde exchanged words, the two knight students clashed.
Claaang!
Steel met steel. Their auras shattered into flying shards.
Most of the fragments were brown—Gismond's aura. His reserves diminished rapidly.
Yet he replenished them just as fast.
As the cycle repeated, fatigue struck Valia first.
His swings slowed, his aura lost its solidity.
Gismond's brute force seized the opening mercilessly.
"You monster…!"
Valia gritted his teeth.
In skill and combat sense, Valia was superior. Proof of it: not once had Gismond's blade touched him. The reverse wasn't true—Valia had struck Gismond's armor more than ten times.
But it didn't matter.
Gismond's absurd aura shielded his body from harm.
In the end, Valia couldn't pierce it.
And Gismond tore into his exhausted opponent's vitals.
───!
A translucent barrier blocked the strike aimed at Valia's chest.
The bracelet on his wrist glowed—an Academy-issued safety artifact.
Its activation meant—
"Match over! Winner, Gismond Ert!"
The duel had been decided.
"As expected, it's one of two things. Elixirs, or magi…."
If it were elixirs, they weren't cheap ones—and he hadn't taken just one or two. They were all top-tier, consumed in bulk.
But the Ert family couldn't possibly afford that.
'Magi seems far more likely. He's probably a corrupted one.'
Still, the corrupted weren't fools. With the headmaster frantically hunting them down, would they really start new schemes?
Damn it. Headache.
"Tell the Golden Pillar to dig deeper into Gismond. His family, his history, where he got his elixirs—down to every minor habit and mannerism."
"Yes, sir."
Whatever the case, this was all the result of the prophecy's future warping. Otherwise, none of it made sense.
Fernan rose from his seat.
"Anyway, I still made money."
Valia Inus had never been destined for the Round of 16, nor was he someone talented enough to warrant Fernan's attention.
The reason was unclear, but the two who should have advanced to the Round of 16 had been toppled by Gismond, while Valia himself failed to qualify.
If Gismond's two victories weren't mere luck, the outcome here was obvious.
"Gismond's next opponent is…."
"Ruina Verchev."
"Then it's over."
Fernan was convinced there would be no further upsets.
He had seen what he needed to, but he did not leave his seat.
With the bracket already altered, he needed to observe the matches in full to judge who would make it into the Round of 16.
'Infuriating.'
His gaze on Gismond, raising his arms to the cheers of the crowd, was anything but kind.
The sixth day of the festival.
The fifth day of the jousting tournament.
Having defeated three opponents to reach the top 32, Ruina sat calmly in the waiting room, preparing for her next match.
'My next opponent is….'
"Preparing well?"
A figure in armor sat down beside her. His visor concealed his face, but the voice was unmistakable.
"…Fernan? How?"
Only competitors were allowed inside the waiting area—or so Ruina thought.
"There are always ways."
"Money is indeed powerful."
"Connections. No need to waste money on something this minor."
Fernan smiled faintly.
"But why come here, all the way into the waiting room…?"
"Do you know who your opponent is?"
"I do. Third-year senior, Gismond Ert."
She always gave her best, never entering a match ignorant of her foe.
"I heard his strength surged suddenly last year. I assumed it was latent potential exploding, but seeing him myself, it seems different."
"Elixirs?"
"Exactly."
"I was going to warn you, but it seems you already know. Good."
Fernan nodded slightly.
"Warn me?"
"Be careful."
"Careful?"
His expression was hidden, but his voice was dead serious.
"There are too many suspicious things about that bastard Gismond."
"…Don't tell me—corrupted?"
Ruina's eyes sharpened instantly as she lowered her voice.
She already knew that corrupted ones were parasitizing the Academy.
All the more so since her friend Bella's power had spiked after being tainted by magi.
"I'm not certain. Just suspicious. But the possibility is high."
Very high.
"Understood."
"You won't ask more?"
"Ruina Verchev, please prepare for entry."
At that moment, an attendant called her name.
Ruina picked up her helmet.
"You may be a man obsessed with money, but you're not a liar. And even without that, I think I've come to trust you enough by now."
And I, too, must win this championship.
"I'll give it my all and return—"
Just then, something popped into her mouth.
"…What is this? Chocolate?"
"A gift, so you'll win."
"…Thank you."
Clink. Ruina lowered her visor and strode into the passage.
"Trust, huh…."
Fernan returned to the spectator stands.
And he saw it.
"Victory, Ruina Verchev!"
Ruina's lance, as one with her horse, struck.
With a single clash, she shattered Gismond's aura completely.
With the second, she blew away his lance.
The duel was decided in just two exchanges.
"Gyaaaaaah! I'm dying!"
Unable to withstand the shock transmitted through his weapon, Gismond clutched his arm, seemingly broken, and rolled across the ground.
"He's quite the whiner. Making such a fuss over just one broken arm."
"Indeed."
For an Academy student, this was hardly the first time a bone had broken.
'If I were the corrupted, I wouldn't waste the effort turning such a pathetic fool into one.'
Perhaps he really had just overdosed on elixirs. But with what money?
"Tch." Fernan clicked his tongue.
At any rate, Ruina had won. That was what mattered.
'Though it seems she's stronger than what the prophecy described….'
He had expected her to win, but not so overwhelmingly.
Perhaps this time, she really would be the champion.
Maybe it was the mandragora he'd given her. Whatever the reason, having a stronger ally to face the demons was something he could only welcome.
'…Ally, huh. Since when did fighting demons become something I just accept as natural?'
By now, he was certain there would be no future where he clashed with Aint and fell into ruin. Even if he let go, that worst-case scenario wouldn't come.
And yet, Fernan couldn't bring himself to let go of the demons.
The butterfly effect.
He didn't know how the warped futures, born of his desperate struggle to survive, would manifest.
Like the two Sea Serpents that had attacked the yacht instead of one.
Like Andromalius being summoned unexpectedly, against prophecy.
What if one of these changes killed Aint?
What if the world perished without Aint?
Fernan couldn't risk it.
'Just wait. I'll seize control of all the wealth in this world.'
If he was to save the world, that much compensation was only fair.
Fernan ground his teeth.
Just then, someone approached Hyde, handed him an envelope, and left.
On the envelope was a golden pillar emblem.
"What you've been waiting for, young master."
"Give it here."
"Yes, sir."
Fernan's eyes narrowed as he checked the contents.
"…Well, look at this."
"What is it?"
"Found it. The Fayers Fortress, in the Fayers territory."
A formidable bastion at the southernmost border of the Kingdom of Frazia.
'But this location….'
Fernan recalled another prophecy.
[- This is blackgang stone.
"Blackgang stone? The one with strong resistance to magic?"
Fortunate indeed. Not as valuable as mithril, but still a very useful ore.]
A prophecy pointing to profit, located dangerously close to Fayers.
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