"Magical Survival Skills," "Combat, War, and Magic," "Study of Demonic Beasts and Monsters."
These three courses formed the foundation during the first year, and from the second year onward, they were regularly—no, always—conducted as joint lectures with the Knight Department.
They were also subjects that prioritized practical training over theory.
The Knight Department's course, "War and Practical Sparring," was in the same vein as those three magic classes.
"The time has come."
It had already been a month since Fernan and Luina had tied for first place in their first joint class.
Though there had been no major incidents during that time, to Fernan, the peace felt like the calm before a storm.
"Another anomaly will occur during today's sparring."
It was a clearly stated passage in the Book of Prophecies.
Today's goal was to witness that event firsthand—and more importantly, to observe Berian Kalburden, who would, from this incident onward, begin his descent into becoming a puppet of the devil.
With the plan organized, Fernan called for his attendant.
"Hyde. You've spread the money, haven't you?"
"Of course."
"Let's go."
"Yes, sir."
Fernan draped a cloak over his shoulders.
"Winner: Aint Armian!"
It was quite an entertaining spectacle.
Watching the future foretold in the Book of Prophecies unfold exactly as written.
"My God, Aint won!"
"Did Aint beat Berian?"
"No way! How?!"
"He was ranked 38th at admission, wasn't he? How is this even possible after just a month or two?"
Seeing people react so dramatically to a future that, to most, was entirely unexpected—was a delight of its own.
It gave Fernan a subtle sense of superiority, knowing something no one else did.
'I might really get hooked on this.'
It seemed like it could become a rather enjoyable hobby.
Fernan rested his chin on his hand and calmly replayed the battle between Berian and Aint in his mind.
'It wasn't exactly as the prophecy described.'
He couldn't say Aint had overwhelmed Berian. But it also wasn't the razor-thin fight the prophecy had hinted at.
'Was it thanks to the elixir?'
He could clearly feel that Aint's energy had increased. While Berian held the upper hand in swordsmanship overall, Aint had simply overpowered him with his aura.
And it certainly wasn't as if Fernan's efforts had no part in that.
A satisfied smile formed on his lips.
'My actions may be small, but the future changes.'
He had already confirmed that once, with the incident involving Karlo. Seeing it happen again brought an involuntary smile.
It was that feeling—that he might truly be able to change a grim future with his own hands—that was giving him confidence.
"Was it thanks to the elixir?"
"Well, it certainly played a role."
"So you're saying Aint would've won even without it?"
"That's something no one can know."
Fernan shrugged and lightly tapped the armrest with his finger.
Now, his gaze was fixed not on the victor—but the loser.
Berian Kalburden.
The rising star of the aristocracy. Heir to House Kalburden, a powerful marquess family.
Honestly, at first, he had thought it strange—no matter how shocking, why would someone turn to the devil's path after a single loss?
But once you understood the inner workings of House Kalburden, it no longer seemed that strange.
"Hyde."
"Yes, young master?"
"Is Kalburden still meeting with other nobles frequently these days?"
"Yes. In fact, his already-active political engagement has only grown since Fridian secured the authority of the Golden Edict."
Prince-Elector. One of only seven in the Empire. Those glorious few who had the authority to choose the next Emperor.
They were originally the founding heroes of the Empire.
The Armian royal family, the womb of the Empire, and the descendants of the five kingdoms and the church that the first Emperor united.
To the Empire, the Prince-Electors were towering pillars—fortresses that no one dared to challenge.
And yet, for the first time, one of those pillars had crumbled, and a new one had risen in its place.
"To those who think there's not much difference between themselves and the new pillar, it must simply feel like a lost opportunity."
They would think—and keep thinking—that it should've been their seat. And they'd begin to derive new possibilities from that thought.
"It was possible once, so why not again?"—would be their conclusion.
And in that process, the interests of Schwaben and Kalburden aligned.
To Schwaben, the old royal family was a thorn in the eye. And to Kalburden, the former royal family—now the weakest among the Seven Pillars—was an easy target.
Their alliance was the most natural outcome.
Thus, what appeared on the surface to be a simple sparring match between students was, beneath it all, a war between Kalburden and Schwaben aimed at toppling Armian.
And Kalburden lost.
"…This can't be happening."
While everyone else cheered or gasped at the shocking result, Berian Kalburden bowed his head, drowning in loneliness amid the crowd.
Amazingly, no one was paying him any attention.
"If I lose to Aint and the prophecy plays out as written… will I end up like that?"
Forgotten—by the protagonist acknowledged by the world?
The dreadful thought made Fernan swallow a groan.
"…It's quite curious though."
"What is?"
"Aint Armian causes an anomaly every time you attend, young master."
The attendant's eyes turned suspicious.
"It's just a coincidence."
Fernan dismissed it casually—but in truth, it was by design. There was a reason he brought Hyde along to these viewings. Later, when the Book of Prophecies was revealed, it would serve as a breadcrumb to make the story more believable.
"I'll take your word for now."
"Hyde."
"Yes?"
"Keep an eye on Berian."
"You mean Berian Kalburden?"
The Book of Prophecies often skipped over time. Between Berian's loss, his humiliation by Ludger, and his next duel against Aint during the midterms, there was a gap of about two weeks.
But it never mentioned how, or exactly when, Berian made contact with the devil and gained power.
It just suddenly happened, two weeks later.
To Fernan—who valued not just outcomes but the process and the evidence gained along the way—that omission was frustrating.
The outcome didn't need any fuss—after all, it was set: Aint Armian would stop him.
"Yes. Watch where he goes—"
Where Berian encountered the devil.
"Who he meets—"
How the encounter took place.
"What conversations he has—"
How the devil seduced him.
"Everything. Every single detail."
"You want me to follow the heir to Kalburden?"
"As long as you don't get caught. Are you saying you can't?"
"I never said that. Yes, understood. How long should I continue?"
"Until I say it's enough."
"Yes, sir."
After that, Fernan turned his attention to the allies of Aint mentioned in the prophecy.
Valoshi Bienderk and Varus Dene.
"He's got one hell of a companion—the heir of Bienderk, top of the Knight Department, and the disciple of the Mercenary King, ranked third."
They were the kind of people who would be a strong backing even outside the academy.
It made Fernan think, "So this is the protagonist of the prophecy." But on the other hand, maybe that level of backup was necessary to stand against the resurgence of the devils.
Valoshi and Varus lived up to their reputations and won their matches. Together with Aint, they congratulated each other on their victories.
"Bienderk and Armian are friends? Is… is that even allowed?"
"They'll figure it out themselves."
Fernan shrugged, but his gaze happened to land on Berian once more.
He was gritting his teeth as he looked back and forth between Valoshi and Aint.
'Ah… come to think of it…'
Berian had been desperate to build a connection with Valoshi. And yet, the one Valoshi was drawn to wasn't him—it was Aint.
That, too, likely played a part in pushing Berian toward making a deal with the devil.
'The world's practically shoving him into the devil's arms.'
Having confirmed everything he needed, Fernan stood up from his seat.
"..."
Anomalies always spread faster than typical rumors.
The news that Aint Armian had defeated Berian Kalburden rapidly made its way through the entire academy.
"There's nothing to apologize for. It's simply that my expectations were a bit too high. For now, take time to recover—physically and mentally. We'll speak again if the opportunity arises."
'…This can't be happening.'
Berian, having just returned from his meeting with Prince Ludger, swallowed hard.
He knew. He knew just how absurd this defeat was.
Setting aside the fact that it was Armian—how could the second-ranked student lose to someone who ranked 38th at admission? Even if Anton, ranked 10th, had lost before him, the difference between second and tenth was still substantial.
'…Damn it.'
This incident wasn't going to bring any major trouble.
Schwaben and Kalburden still had many cards to play to defeat Armian. Berian was merely the first blade they had drawn.
Yes—on a broader scale, it wasn't a fatal issue.
'But what about me…?'
He hadn't just failed the family's expectations—he had lost to none other than Armean himself.
The House of Kalburden and Berian Kalburden were two entirely separate entities.
The real problem was that the family already had someone else who could replace him.
He wasn't the only heir. He had a younger brother, and that boy's talent wasn't far behind Berian's own.
'That bastard… he dares to eye my place…!'
And that little brother's ambition was by no means lacking.
If this incident became the trigger…
The prince would be disappointed. His father would be furious. It wasn't some far-fetched scenario—it was entirely within the realm of possibility.
'I have to win. There won't be a second chance for me.'
The root cause of everything was Aint Armian. It was because he lost to him that this situation had come about. The best way to fix it was to defeat Aint and reclaim his prestige and honor.
'My swordsmanship was superior.'
Even against Aint, whose swordsmanship had barely been solidified through live combat, Berian had a slight edge.
But the problem was his energy.
'His aura is…'
It was pure and densely packed. In a clash of aura, Berian had been overwhelmed.
'How the hell…?'
He had been raised as an elite with full family support from a young age. Swordsmanship, etiquette, education, and even all kinds of elixirs—he had it all.
It made no sense that Aint, heir of a crumbling house, had more aura than he did.
Yet, the outcome was clear. And now, Berian had no choice but to overturn the board.
'I will do it…'
His hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword.
[Berian Kalburden continues to move between lectures, the dorms, town, and the training grounds, doing nothing but swinging his sword.]
[He encounters other students and professors during class but has no significant conversations.]
[In town, he visits bookstores, grocery stores, general shops, and blacksmiths, buying or fixing things—no suspicious activity so far.]
[Since that day, there has been no further contact with Prince Ludger.]
[No unusual developments so far. I will continue providing regular updates.]
Having returned from lunch, Fernan reviewed the report lying on his desk.
'So far, no contact. Then how does it happen…?'
Demons weren't common beings.
A thousand years ago, they had been completely eradicated by the founding Emperor of the Empire, and every trace of them was wiped away.
Information about demons had become taboo. Even if someone wanted to search for them, it wasn't possible.
'There's no way Berian would think of demons on his own.'
In a thousand years, humanity had erased the word "demon" from its collective memory. The idea that Berian would think to make a pact with one on his own was close to impossible.
'Then it must be…'
The demons—still hiding among humans—must be the ones to approach Berian first.
That was why monitoring Berian's every move was of utmost importance. It was a chance to trace the demons' presence.
Two weeks passed.
And eerily, nothing happened.
'…This can't be right.'
Something should have happened—had to happen.
It had to.
'No way… could it be false? Is the most important part of the prophecy—the demon contract—actually a lie?'
It was now just two days before the Knight Department's midterms—when Aint Armian was destined to fight Berian Kalburden, who had already fallen to the demons.