Chapter 49
Chapter 49
Episode 49
Under the professor's guidance, they walked across the drawbridge for quite some time.
Jude, pretending to be an assistant, was engaged in conversation with the professor—something Aiden found rather impressive, considering there wasn't the slightest hint of suspicion from the professor.
The man chattered incessantly.
"Whether they're mages or warlocks, aren't they all just pragmatists in the end? But mages—those sanctimonious fools—keep preaching about morality and conscience, denying the achievements of warlockry. And what has that gotten them? We've built this glorious civilization, while they've stagnated. Just look at the Empire—two hundred years without progress! Hah! Between you and me, it's laughable how the Empire still claims to be the continent's foremost power."
Jude nodded along.
"You speak the truth. Frankly, their so-called 'Emperor' doesn't even deserve the title."
"Exactly. The Grand Duke is the only rightful ruler of this continent."
The professor glanced around before lowering his voice.
"If my predictions hold, His Highness the Prince will soon realize that ambition. Hah."
Nonsense. Once outside the Duchy, their military strength would plummet to less than a tenth of what it was here. Their so-called grandeur was confined to this land.
They had forgotten their place. The moment they left their nest, the Grand Duchy's history would end. They wouldn't even make it past the County of Karshua.
And their prized "sky ships"? Useless beyond these borders. They couldn't replenish their demonic energy reserves elsewhere.
But here, they were indeed an efficient means of transport.
The sky ship—a transport vessel ferrying students to the Warlock Academy—awaited them at the end of the bridge.
The massive, elliptical airship was called a Celestial Vessel.
Even among the Duchy's residents, few had ever boarded one.
The Celestial Vessel carried only those privileged enough to travel between the floating islands.
Of the two floating islands in the Duchy—the Warlock Academy and the Ducal Palace—Aiden's destination was the former.
The professor boarded first, followed by the students.
Fifty-seven in total—a number far below the vessel's maximum capacity.
Aiden boarded as well, taking a seat beside Siron.
The stiff, curved leather walls bore a reddish-brown hue, reminiscent of the Land of Screams.
She subtly gestured toward Jude.
"Garvue, look."
Amid the bustle of students finding their seats, Jude was discreetly planting tiny spell formations throughout the vessel.
Sacred Magic Detonation Runes. The Duchy's sole Celestial Vessel would crash to the ground today, turning the entire nation into a sea of flames.
Aiden hoped as many of these vermin would perish as possible.
A particularly grating voice shattered that thought.
"Ugh, lumbering around like a damn mountain."
It was Maron.
He shoved Aiden's legs aside and forced his way into the window seat.
The moment he sat down, he jabbed Aiden with an elbow.
"Hey, why so quiet today? Talk to me. Six hours should've been enough for whatever you were planning."
Aiden wanted to rip his head off and toss it out the window but restrained himself.
Siron, sensing Aiden's mood, spoke up instead.
"He looks exhausted. Leave him be."
Maron snorted.
"Damn, kid must've burned himself out. Fine, I'll shut up."
Aiden turned away, fixing his gaze forward.
Most had taken their seats by now, and Jude, having finished his task, was heading toward the front.
Soon, a low hum vibrated through the vessel—signaling departure. The professor rose slightly, scanning the students.
"As I mentioned earlier, His Highness the Prince will be attending the banquet. When he enters, cheer louder than anyone else. Understood?"
The students answered in unison.
"Yes!"
The professor nodded to the pilot, and the Celestial Vessel began its slow ascent.
The sensation of weightlessness accompanied the ground shrinking beneath them.
Peering out the window, Aiden saw the vast expanse of ocean stretching endlessly.
Beyond that distant strait lay the Demon Realm.
Too far to see with the naked eye, but the Duchy was still the closest landmass to it on the continent.
To reclaim the Holy Land, this place would have to be conquered first.
Aiden relished this opportunity.
Dealing a crippling blow now would make future endeavors far easier.
As he gazed outside, the Warlock Academy gradually came into view.
Siron nudged him with an elbow and whispered in his ear.
"Two seconds, Garvue. At most."
That was the window—the brief moment when the protective barrier around the Prince would vanish.
The result of her mission. From the floating island onward, Siron would have to act separately.
Aiden gave a slight nod.
Missing those two seconds would exponentially increase the assassination's difficulty.
Though they had contingency plans, succeeding on the first attempt was preferable.
Siron murmured,
"Don't push yourself."
"Don't worry."
The students were buzzing with excitement. Dining with the Prince—a man they revered beyond measure.
Aiden found it revolting.
He longed to twist their grinning faces into masks of despair and agony—just as they had done to the commoners.
Doing so would let him sleep soundly for a while.
The vessel shuddered—they had landed.
Under the professor's direction, the students filed out one by one.
Aiden followed, stepping onto the floating island.
The colossal academy loomed before them, perched atop the aerial expanse.
At first glance, it appeared magnificent, though hardly refined.
Its jagged spires embodied the Duchy's warped values.
The walls gleamed with a glossy violet sheen—saturated with demonic energy.
The Empire's Magical Academy looked far superior. Of course, that was purely Aiden's opinion.
Siron scanned the surroundings, exchanging a glance with Jude before turning to Aiden.
"I'll be back."
Aiden nodded.
They proceeded into the academy under the professor's guidance.
### The Banquet Hall
Fifty-six second-year top-ranking students of the Warlock Academy were seated at five long tables.
Each table accommodated about ten, facing one another.
Those unable to sit at Garvue's table clicked their tongues in disappointment.
Of these fifty-six, Garvue was the only one with direct lineage to the "Gusian" bloodline—the Prince's reason for visiting.
Officially, the Prince's visit was to encourage academic fervor and console the students' hardships.
But that was just a pretext.
Undoubtedly, he intended to scout talent.
For the students, sitting near Garvue was the best way to stand out.
Maron had secured the seat beside him faster than anyone.
A perfect place to die.
"Garvue, nervous?"
"Not particularly. It's just a meal."
"Playing dumb, huh? Put in a good word for me when you get the chance. You know me—I don't leave debts unpaid."
Aiden decided then that he would make sure the Prince remembered Maron.
He nodded just as the guards announced from the entrance:
"His Highness, the First Prince of the Grand Duchy—the most rightful heir, Prince Tarkan de Trapelga—has arrived!"
The professor gestured sharply, and the students rose with tense excitement.
The doors swung open, revealing a dozen warlock soldiers.
A figure emerged from their ranks.
A young man with ash-gray hair and pitch-black eyes—Prince Tarkan.
Cheers erupted as the students welcomed him with fervor.
The Prince smiled benevolently and stepped inside.
Only his personal knight and a warlock followed him in—the soldiers remained outside.
A Dark Knight. In a Duchy where swordsmanship was scorned, he was among the elite.
Aiden's eyes measured him.
Strong. Killing him barehanded in one strike would be difficult. With a holy sword, it'd be child's play.
The warlock's capabilities were beyond Aiden's assessment.
But judging by Jude and Gott's expressions, they were confident in their victory.
Fighting them was out of the question.
Delaying would only draw out the real monsters from the Ducal Palace or the Spire.
Against the likes of Archmage Kadak's disciples or the Spire Lord, victory in the Duchy was impossible.
The Prince approached, raising a hand to quiet the cheers. His smile was practiced.
"Truly, the future pillars of our Grand Duchy. The fire in your eyes is inspiring. I hope to carry some of that vigor with me today."
He began shaking hands with each student, who loudly declared their lineage and name in formal greeting.
Aiden watched his approach from the corner of his eye.
By now, Siron should have reached the demonic energy facility. The moment she disrupted it, the Prince's barrier would flicker away.
Two seconds. That was all he had.
Missing it would prolong their stay indefinitely.
The Holy Knights couldn't predict when the Prince would leave the palace again.
The risk of exposure would skyrocket.
And with the food taster always present, poisoning was impossible. Best to end it here.
The Prince reached Aiden.
"I've heard much about you."
Aiden clasped his hand and bowed deeply.
"Garvue Antimora. It is an honor to meet Your Highness."
"Indeed. The bearing of a warrior, just as they said."
Garvue was naturally large, but today, he seemed especially imposing.
Of course, that was the students' impression. The Prince, seeing him for the first time, merely looked intrigued.
The Dark Knight behind the Prince studied Aiden intently.
His instincts warned him—this man didn't feel like a warlock at all.
He had questions but couldn't interrupt the Prince.
Aiden replied,
"The Antimora lineage trains the body as diligently as it explores the abyss, Your Highness."
The Prince nodded.
"As I've heard. A truly noble tradition. More should follow your example."
"You flatter me."
The Prince chuckled and patted Aiden's shoulder.
"I'll invite you to the palace someday. Don't refuse."
"I wouldn't dare."
Aiden briefly considered killing him in the audience chamber but dismissed it. The palace was too dangerous.
The Prince moved on to Maron.
"Maron Gaveliash. It is my greatest honor to meet Your Highness."
"Likewise."
As the Prince withdrew, Maron hastily added:
"Your Highness, the day promised by 'Jurion' approaches. When he awakens from his long slumber, the glory of Vacheksar will—"
"Yes, yes. I'll remember you."
The Prince coldly stepped away. Maron looked crestfallen.
Just as he turned to the next student, a black energy surged around him like a magnetic field.
Only Aiden, the Prince's guards, Jude, and Gott noticed.
Siron had succeeded.
Aiden had to move fast.
He turned to Maron.
A massive hand seized his skull. Before Maron could react, Aiden ripped his head clean off.
The entire motion was blindingly fast—Maron hadn't even realized it happened.
In Aiden's grip, Maron blinked dumbly.
His headless body stood frozen for a moment before the severed neck erupted in a geyser of blood.
The Dark Knight reached for his sword—
Aiden twisted his torso to the limit, swinging the disembodied head behind him—
And hurled it.
SHWEEEE—!
The skull tore through the air like a cannonball and struck the Prince square in the face.
SPLAT!
Brains exploded upward, painting the ceiling.
Aiden had kept his promise to Maron.
He had ended his bloodline, just like Garvue's family—and seared his existence into the Prince's mind.
Chunks of brain matter rained down. Skull fragments rolled across the floor.
Had Siron seen this, she might have wept with admiration.