Chapter 90
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Unforeseen Consequences
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‘This is completely unexpected.’
Was it always meant to be like this?
Or had the future been altered by some butterfly effect Pernyan was unaware of?
The Prophecy Book made no mention of this, which was a bit troubling.
Of course, it wasn't a bad thing for Aint—or for Pernyan, who wished for his growth.
‘My actions changed this.’
Originally, Aint was supposed to encounter demonic beasts and the Vile Breed on the battlefield.
There, he would fight desperate battles and gain experience.
He would then earn a reputation for properly dispatching a Vile Breed, beginning to make a name for himself as a ‘hero’ and the ‘heir to the first emperor.’
The desert tribes were never involved in that.
But with Pernyan saving the desert tribes, the story had changed.
Those who should have become sacrifices by death were alive to witness Aint’s deeds.
‘This won’t change the future too drastically, will it?’
What was the greatest advantage of possessing the Prophecy Book? It was knowing the future and being able to act accordingly.
That was why, aside from his relationship with Ruina, he had tried to avoid changing the grand scheme of things, even while tweaking minor details of the prophecy.
‘What’s done is done. I should be grateful that it’s at least a positive outcome…’
“…Have you closed your eyes?”
Pernyan opened his eyes at the presence he felt beside him.
“What did you say?”
“I asked why you were closing your eyes by yourself.”
It was Ruina. She handed him a piece of well-cooked meat.
Despite the festivities, her expression was as unflappable as ever.
“I had something to think about. Aren't you drinking?”
“Alcohol makes one let their guard down.”
“It’s a festival.”
Pernyan accepted a cup from a tribesman who was handing out drinks and pushed it toward Ruina.
“…I don’t like it. It’s bitter.”
“It is a strong drink.”
The desert warriors drank distilled spirits.
They would milk the camels they raised to make a fermented beverage, which was then distilled to create the final spirit.
And they aged the spirit in distilling facilities built in pits dug into the ground.
‘The angel’s share must be significant in the desert.’
Running a distillery business in the desert was tantamount to throwing money away.
From the desert tribes' perspective, it wasn't a business; they just did it because they wanted strong liquor.
In any case, that wasn't the important part.
“Still, they should have fermented drinks too, right?”
“It’s just not to my taste…”
The fermented drink made from camel milk had a unique aroma and flavor that was highly polarizing.
Pernyan took a piece of chocolate from his subspace and crushed it in his hand.
As the chocolate crumbled, a subtle forest scent wafted out. He sprinkled it directly into the cup.
“This should be better.”
“……”
Ruina eyed Pernyan with a slight pout.
“I washed my hands.”
“No, it’s not that. That chocolate, from the Friedien…”
“It’s World Tree bark chocolate.”
“Why would you put something so precious in alcohol?”
“So, you’re not going to drink it?”
“…I’m only drinking it because it would be a waste of the chocolate.”
Ruina took a sip of the drink.
The oaky aroma from the aged spirit and the subtle forest scent from the chocolate blended together perfectly.
The initial bitterness was quickly enveloped by the sweetness of the chocolate, making it quite pleasant.
“…It’s delicious.”
“That chocolate is more expensive than the liquor.”
“…It’s a gain for me.”
“A gain?”
“It wasn’t mine to begin with, but I received a better chocolate in exchange for drinking a distasteful liquor.”
“…You’ve become quite the merchant.”
“It seems I’ve picked up a thing or two from traveling with a merchant.”
Pernyan’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear such words from Ruina.
It wasn't bad at all.
Just then.
Waaaaah—
Veri…!
A loud cheer erupted from a distance. He wanted to see what was happening, but it was difficult with the massive crowd in the way.
“What is it?”
“Aren’t they doing something else?”
At that moment, the body of a tribesman came flying out of the crowd.
He was covered in injuries, and from beyond him, a familiar voice shouted.
“Next!”
“A duel.”
“A duel indeed.”
“Is that Verian?”
“It is Verian.”
Pernyan and Ruina looked at each other.
A brief silence. *Pshhhhh*, Ruina released her aura, completely dispelling the effects of the alcohol.
“This should be interesting. I was just curious about the power of those who possess supreme physical bodies in place of the ability to wield mana.”
Without waiting for Pernyan’s response, Ruina headed toward the stage.
- Kkung? Kkk-kkk!
Wooden, who had returned to Pernyan’s side at some point, clutched its stomach and laughed.
“Dumped? What nonsense are you spouting?”
They weren't even in that kind of relationship.
Pernyan flicked Wooden’s head with his finger.
- Kkyiiiing!
Wooden shrieked and writhed. He had tapped it gently, but it was being such a baby.
‘Anyway, this means the desert tribes will become Aint’s allies…’
How many desert tribes were there again?
* * *
“How vulgar.”
The people of the desert tribes were all filthy. The alcohol was of poor quality, and though it was called a festival, there was nothing much to enjoy.
“Is the festival not to your liking?”
“How could it possibly be?”
All they did was eat whole-roasted meats, drink tasteless liquor, and brawl with each other under the guise of a sacred duel.
To think they called *this* a festival. Ludger felt the urge to reteach these barbarians the definition of the word.
‘This is why you’re called barbarians. This is why the Empire abandoned you.’
No, in truth, Ludger’s anger stemmed from a different reason.
It was because despite his own contributions, they chanted only for Aint.
‘Sacred Light? Nonsense.’
Because the desert tribes revered Aint.
Aint, Aint. Because that damn Aint seemed to have recovered the lost secret sword arts of the Armians.
The question of ‘how’ didn't linger for long.
If he had truly recovered it, that was a huge problem.
It might not have mattered in an era of peace, but the Vile Breed were beginning to run rampant.
It was as if the heavens themselves had laid out a smooth path for Aint Armian.
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
Almon’s voice snapped Ludger out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger.
“…I am fine.”
“I was worried you might have been injured during the battle with the Vile Breed.”
“I just cast one spell and it was over. There was no chance for me to get hurt.”
He had overexerted himself, leading to exhaustion and internal injuries, but after drinking a good potion, he was feeling much better now.
“I have something to ask you, Almon.”
“Yes. Please, ask me anything.”
“How was the Vile Breed?”
“In what sense?”
“I’m asking how strong it was.”
Almon pondered. How strong was the Vile Breed? It was immensely powerful.
He had felt it clearly when its demonic energy clashed with his sword.
He knew he couldn’t block it many times.
A single impact sent a jarring shock through his entire body, a blow that felt like it twisted his organs. His aura protected him, but it felt dangerously close to shattering.
At the very least, Almon was certain he couldn't have defeated it alone.
Not if Aint's power hadn't weakened it, and Ludger's magic hadn't slowed its movements.
And if they hadn't all attacked it together, they probably wouldn't have been able to take it down.
“It was a tremendous monster.”
“Do you think there will only be one or two such creatures?”
“I doubt it. Considering the situation at the academy and elsewhere, we can’t rashly guess how many Vile Breed there are.”
“Yes, that’s my point.”
“Are you worried about Aint Armian?”
“Isn’t it too much of a coincidence? The Vile Breed have begun to stir, and Aint Armian appears to have recovered his family's lost secret sword arts.”
It was true. But that didn't mean Aint or the Armian family were manipulating the Vile Breed from behind the scenes. It was just a coincidence.
“Yes, it must be a coincidence.”
But that coincidence was helping the Armians. Most people would call that good fortune.
“I have no intention of letting Aint, or the Armians, fully claim that good fortune.”
Because it would in no way benefit the Schwabens.
“That is why proof is needed.”
“Proof that demons can be defeated without the Armians, you mean?”
“Yes. Proof that we can do it without them. Proof that the Armians are no longer necessary.”
A thousand years had passed since the first emperor united the kingdoms, defeated King Collomo, and established the Empire.
Over that time, humanity had advanced.
The Royal Knights, once only five, now numbered ten, and ten Archmages had emerged.
Was that all? The power of the seven Electors, the power of the Empire, had clearly grown compared to a thousand years ago.
As the nation stabilized, the population exploded, and the Empire grew prosperous.
Consequently, there were more talented individuals, more powerful people.
Humanity, the Empire, no longer needed to depend on the Armians.
It had to be that way.
“But Your Highness, did you not say you have little interest in the throne?”
Ludger nodded at Almon’s question.
“My brother is more capable than I. He is the one truly suited to be the emperor of this nation.”
It wasn't that he lacked ambition. He had simply set aside his own desires upon realizing there was someone more suitable.
For that very reason, he could not bear to see the Schwabens lose their claim to the throne.
“I must visit the imperial capital after this deployment is over.”
Ludger’s cold gaze fell upon Aint, who was mingling with the desert tribesmen.
* * *
“…Are you saying Bairan is dead?”
In a laboratory filled with data and experimental equipment.
At the shadow’s report, the man sitting at a table reviewing documents let out a hollow laugh.
“No. Not dead, but captured.”
“Ah, so the same thing. No, is it actually more foolish? Was our objective discovered?”
“No.”
“Would you care to explain in detail?”
“You are aware that some academy students were dispatched on a mission. Aint Armian was among them.”
“So he disobeyed my orders to lie low, blinded by the prospect of glory.”
It was foolish, far too foolish.
“Did that fool truly believe I would value him for defying my orders, no matter how great his achievement? Is that what he calls a brain?”
His thinking was far too shortsighted and narrow.
“Tell me the process.”
“The plan was to gather sacrifices, summon demonic beasts, and then kill Aint Armian.”
“Why did it fail?”
“While attacking the desert tribes to gather sacrifices, he fell into a trap set by Altriark.”
“A trap?”
“Yes. They had coordinated with one of the tribes and were waiting for Bairan to arrive.”
“How did they know of Bairan’s plan?”
“That…”
The shadow fell silent. He didn't know the exact details either.
“To deliver a report without even knowing the full story. How disappointing.”
“F-Forgive me!”
“Lower your voice.”
“Y-Yes…!”
“What was the scale of the trap?”
“The Ironblood Knights, the Madblood Knights, and five hundred elite soldiers were present. Most importantly, all the dispatched academy students were there.”
“So Aint Armian was there as well.”
The man now understood why Bairan had been unable to escape.
Even after a thousand years, they still couldn't overcome the power of the Armians. If Aint hadn't been there, he probably could have escaped.
“Bairan was captured and dragged away… and the others?”
“They returned to the Altriark fortress.”
“…Make Bairan self-destruct. There’s no value in saving such an incompetent fool anyway.”
“Yes. It will be done.”
Even after the report was finished, the man remained silent.
*Scritch, scritch*. Only the sound of the man’s pen moving across paper echoed in the lab.
After a long while, the man, having turned a page, spoke.
“What has become of the Bell of Ruin?”
“The plan has been temporarily halted, but there are no major setbacks.”
“This is an opportunity. While their attention is focused on that vermin, you will finish the job.”
“…Th-Thank you!”
“Do not disappoint me as that vermin did.”
“Yes, I will do my utmost!”
The shadow slammed his head against the floor.
“Leave.”
At the man’s dismissal, the shadow vanished. His gaze remained fixed on the documents he had written.
“Soon.”
The end was in sight. It would be very soon.
Just then, someone opened the laboratory door.
“Aaron! You’re cooped up in the lab again? Professor Rosalia isn't even here, you should take a break. Didn't she tell you to take a vacation?”
“The end of my research is in sight, so I’m getting a little antsy.”
Aaron smiled faintly.
“You know the other professors are after you because of that, right?”
“I like being under Professor Rosalia.”
“Of course you do.”
“So, what’s up?”
“Let’s go get something to eat. You haven’t eaten, have you? It’s already one o’clock.”
“It’s that late already?”
Aaron prepared to leave.
“Why are you bringing a book? Just leave it here for once!”
“A mage must always be with their grimoire.”
The man, Aaron, left the laboratory with the other research assistant, a friendly smile on his face.