[An unexpected turn in the joint training session between the 2nd-year Knight Department and the Magic Department. Contrary to everyone's expectations, the first-place winners were Ruina Berchef, second in the Knight Department, and Fernan Pellenberg, ranked 10th in the Magic Department.]
[Fernan Pellenberg, who took down the Carlo Deneb and Alia Torta pair and confined ten students for about five minutes. Was he hiding his power all along?]
[How did Ruina Berchef and Fernan Pellenberg end up becoming a pair?]
The joint training between the Knight Department and the Magic Department wasn't just a matter of second-year affairs—it became a major issue across the entire academy.
Aint let out an admiring breath as he scanned the daily paper.
"As expected, Pellenberg is Pellenberg. And Ruina Berchef, even if she's lost the rights of the Golden Decree, is still a Berchef."
— Hmph. That nouveau riche brat actually pulled off a decent result.
— Or maybe it's thanks to the Berchef bloodline.
— The world's going to hell when the status of the nouveau riche rises and the Berchef fall into near ruin.
The ego within the sword, Gardener Alpenfarsen, clicked his tongue as if displeased.
"You don't like Pellenberg, but you seem to favor Berchef?"
— Don't compare those two houses. The head of House Berchef was the only knight who could stand on the battlefield alongside the Former Emperor—and me.
— I still fondly remember the days we rode into battle together, slicing off the heads of demons.
Gardener's nostalgic tone hardened again.
— Compared to that, the Pellenbergs are...!
— Don't ever compare them again. It's an insult to Berchef.
"But right now, Pellenberg is the one getting all the credit. Even Berchef owes him a massive debt."
— That's why this world is doomed.
— A noble house of heroes is trampled into the dirt while some vulgar upstarts float through the sky on fame.
— If I hadn't needed military funds, I would've taken care of them myself... Wait a moment.
The sword trembled faintly in Aint's hand.
— That's it.
"Huh? What do you mean 'that's it' all of a sudden?"
— That Fernan or Bernan fellow said it, didn't he? That you could come to him anytime if you needed something.
"…Senior Fernan never said anything like that."
He had indeed sought Aint out, but only to waste time with pointless small talk.
— Didn't I say it? Even if nothing explicit was said, the act of offering kindness and going out of their way to strike up conversation—that's how those people operate.
— And your equipment's not that great anyway, so go ask him for some money.
"…What?"
— What are you so shocked about?
— You agreed we should turn that guy into your patron, didn't you?
"But wouldn't it be weird to suddenly ask out of nowhere?"
— Out of nowhere? This is exactly what he's hoping for.
— I guarantee it. He'll give you the money like he's been waiting for the chance.
Gardener flashed a confident smile.
— Of course, they'll try to charge you interest later, but who cares? Once the demons start rampaging again, they'll be the ones clinging to your pant leg, begging for help.
"…Demons."
At that word, Aint's expression hardened.
"…To be honest, I still find it hard to believe. Are demons really going to return?"
— Yes.
Gardener confirmed it.
— The Former Emperor turned me into a sword's ego because he foresaw the return of the demons and wanted to prepare for the worst.
— The fact that I've awakened means his prophecy is coming true.
"…Hmm."
— Don't worry. You will defeat the demons and save the world.
— Because I will make it so.
"…Yes."
— So first, go shake down that nouveau riche for some gear.
— It's the least they can do for a hero destined to save the world.
The previously solemn voice quickly turned frivolous again.
Aint felt a little lost as to which version of Gardener was the real one.
"…But won't this get Schwaben's attention?"
— That's exactly why you should do it.
— Aren't you curious why he approached you even with Schwaben around?
— If I'm right, that guy will definitely help you. Not openly—because of all the eyes watching—but he'll help you all the same.
Gardener said it with confidence.
And that confidence was—
"…Sorry, but Lord Fernan said he has no reason to meet with you."
"…What?"
—shattered immediately when he was coldly turned away by a clerk at the shop where they had once secretly met.
The balance of power had shifted.
Fernan Pellenberg had drawn attention ever since he first enrolled.
But that was a very different kind of attention than what he was receiving now.
Back then, it was all about the prestige of House Pellenberg and the expectations that came with it.
There were no real hopes or cheers specifically for Fernan.
Even placing 10th was considered the bare minimum—for a Pellenberg. In fact, placing only 10th earned him the reputation of being unremarkable.
That perception had been overturned overnight.
It was thanks to his pairing with Luina, and though they had only placed first once, the performance was unlike anything anyone had seen from him before.
"You must be pleased."
"It's just a flash in the pan."
For now, people might treat him like an extraordinary talent, but they would lose interest just as quickly. If he even had one bad showing, it would all collapse faster than it rose.
That's why Fernan didn't pay much attention to the cheers around him.
Because that wasn't what mattered.
"You're the one who was happy about being first for the first time, weren't you?"
"I thought I was. But now… not really."
Luina shook her head.
"You finally beat Almon, didn't you?"
"It wasn't a midterm or a final exam. It was just a simple practical session."
"It was that same practical session Rosalia said would count for bonus points, second only to midterms and finals. Gradd might lie, but Professor Rosalia doesn't."
This time, she gave a small nod—but her resolute gaze didn't waver.
"It was only one win. I was caught off guard by you, but who knows what will happen from now on. I need to grit my teeth and keep winning."
"You really are stiff and textbook."
"I'm just speaking by the book."
Taking a sip of her tea, she switched the topic.
"So, why did you call me this time?"
"At the academy, if you get good grades, you're awarded a scholarship."
"…Are you saying you're going to give me something because I placed first?"
You? Luina's face twisted slightly.
"I am your sponsor, after all."
"I don't need it."
"You will. And giving something is my choice."
"I already received equipment once and nearly raised suspicion from my friends. A second time…"
"Take it."
Fernan didn't even wait for her full protest before pulling out a small box.
"…What is this?"
"I noticed you haven't taken the mandragora yet."
"I haven't finished preparing for it."
The mana stored in a mandragora root was so immense that it couldn't be consumed carelessly. It was not the kind of elixir you could take on a whim.
"Right, my mistake. I assumed that kind of preparation would be easy—but I was thinking based on my own standards."
In House Pellenberg, no matter what you attempted, the preparations were always in place. But Berchef, which had only just begun to recover after its collapse, couldn't afford such luxuries.
"..."
Luina went silent and glared at Fernan as he pointed out that painful truth.
"I didn't mean to insult you. If I upset you, I apologize."
"You don't look the least bit sorry."
"Doesn't matter. The fact that I said it out loud is what counts."
Click. Fernan opened the box. Inside were five different vials.
"What are those?"
"One for a mana control magic circle. One that strengthens your mana road. One that boosts your mental fortitude. One that increases the mandragora's effectiveness. And one that neutralizes its toxicity."
It was a full supplement set to help safely consume the mandragora.
"All of them are top-grade—priceless, really. So? Don't you need them?"
"…I do."
Fernan smirked, and Luina muttered in a voice barely above a whisper.
"…I will repay this debt. Without fail."
"No need. A sponsor shouldn't expect anything in return for sponsoring, right?"
"Most do, as far as I know."
That was true. People only sponsored talents in hopes they would eventually serve them.
"And do you really think I'll believe that you're spending all this money and expecting nothing in return?"
"Then you won't accept it?"
"…Thank you. Someday, I'll—"
After sending Luina off, Fernan returned to the Ravitus Pavilion.
The meeting had gone better than expected. He didn't mind that at all.
"I've fastened the first button properly. Time to move on to the next one."
"But you've already buttoned your coat completely, haven't you?"
A servant who had entered at just the right moment asked.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"We're alone, and I heard everything, but if you say so, then I'll believe it."
At the servant's deadpan response, Fernan hesitated.
Should I tell him?
About the end of the world. About Aint Armian being the protagonist of the prophecy. About the terrifying future of his downfall.
His servant, Hyde, had been with him since childhood. Aside from family, there was no one Fernan trusted more.
He was Fernan's hands and feet—and the perfect helper in preparing for the end.
"Hyde."
"Yes, milord?"
"…No, it's nothing."
Even so, Fernan couldn't bring himself to say it yet.
Because if their roles were reversed, Fernan knew he wouldn't believe it either.
"I'll tell him once I have definitive proof."
That was the most Fernan-like approach.
Appealing to emotions wasn't his style—and he wasn't confident in doing so anyway.
"Anyway, what is it?"
"Ah, a visitor has arrived."
"A visitor?"
"Yes. He said his name is Aint Armian."
"…Where is he now?"
"At the merchant shop where you previously met him. What shall I do?"
"Wait a moment."
He reached out first?
This was unexpected.
He thought the bait hadn't taken—but apparently it had.
"Why do you think Aint Armian asked to see me?"
"Because you left the door open."
"And the reason?"
"Many knock on House Pellenberg's door, but their goals are all the same."
Money. Whether it was sponsorship, aid, or a loan—it all came down to the same thing.
"Exactly. That's what I thought too."
Fernan nodded.
Once you understood someone's intentions, it was easier to deal with them.
"You must be careful."
"Careful?"
"We don't know how the imperial family will react. The current imperial family is nothing compared to the former one, but even so, to them, this would be like a thorn in their side."
"I know."
Even so, he had to create and maintain the connection. Because Fernan had seen what kind of hero Aint Armian would become one day.
"For now, reject the meeting."
"Should I send someone discreetly?"
"Yes."
"I'll use the person we prepared for this kind of situation. Will you write a letter?"
Fernan shook his head. Their relationship wasn't sentimental enough for letters.
"Send him an elixir."
"Not money?"
"No. He probably tried to be discreet, but the academy has too many eyes. If he meets me and walks out with new gear—"
It would look suspicious to anyone.
"I'll prepare a suitable elixir, then."
"No."
He remembered the future he had seen.
Andromalius.
Just thinking of that terrifying figure sent chills down his spine.
Fernan had no intention of facing it himself. That was Aint's role from the start.
If my involvement causes changes in the future, the best way to reduce variables is to help now while I still can.
It was a bit wasteful, sure—but better that than humanity's extinction.
"Go yourself and raid the family vault."
Fernan gave the order firmly.
That evening, Aint returned to his dorm room, grumbling about Gardener—only to freeze in shock when he saw the small box sitting on his bed.
— Told you!
— What did I say?!
"There's no proof that this is from Senior Fernan…"
As he opened the box and examined the contents, Aint's hands trembled and he dropped it without realizing.
— The Heart of a Saintbird?! Are they insane? How did they even get this?!
It was the heart of a sacred bird that wielded the power of light. Perfectly compatible with the light-based Armian swordsmanship.
— Yup, classic nouveau riche nonsense.
— Now tell me—who else but those flashy nouveau riche would wrap up an insanely expensive elixir like this and leave it on your bed?
— Seriously, do you think that makes any logical sense?
"…I can't even deny it. But this isn't the equipment I asked for."
— Exactly. Proof they're worried about the usurpers watching.
Gardener's smug smile was the cherry on top.