I Saw It
I could easily have brushed off a request from the head of the ducal house or anyone else, but curiosity got the better of me. Just what was he scheming, and why would he ask this of me? I accepted to find out. After all, you had to know what was going on before you could decide whether to trash the place or piss all over the office desk.
"Presenting Lord Stanashila Aljen, who will be observing our training today and gracing us with his guidance! Knights! Salute!"
"HA-A-AIL!!"
"..."
The battle cry, saturated with raw vigor, thundered through the training grounds and rattled down to my bones.
This wasn't quite what I'd envisioned.
I figured "observing" meant kicking back and watching the show, but judging by the uncomfortably sparkling eyes of every single knight present, that wasn't going to fly.
"...Muriel. Why the hell are they looking at me like that? It's like they're expecting something from me."
"Isn't that obvious, Lord Han... Lord Aljen?"
I cracked a smile and met her gaze as she hurriedly caught herself before slipping with my real name.
"Obvious? How so?"
"Lord Urtega's breakthrough to the realm of Demi-God happened thanks to you, did it not?"
"...Ah, because of that?"
Admittedly, even to me, inducing the breakthrough of a Sword Master with nothing more than casual flapping of my lips was an insane achievement. On top of that, they'd witnessed me pulling off genuine feats during the war against the demons, and rumors were already buzzing that I was some kind of prophet or divine avatar. To any knight constantly thirsting for greater strength, a flicker of wishful thinking was inevitable. What was worse, the Stanasila Knights gathered here had already experienced my direct command once before...
"To be totally honest, though, that was pure dumb luck."
"Even if that were true, it makes no difference. It was more than enough to fan the flames of ambition for a higher realm."
"Is that so...?"
Tilting my head, I stared blankly at the knights lined up in immaculate, orderly formation.
"Today's drill is melee combat! We will proceed in order: ten-on-ten, a hundred-on-a-hundred, and finally three hundred-on-three hundred!"
After barking out orders to the ranks, Quino approached me and bowed his head respectfully.
"Thank you for honoring us with your presence today, Lord Stanashila Aljen."
"You don't need to put on such airs."
"Haha. Given my position, I can hardly be casual. I pray you understand."
I eyed him as he offered the polite deflection, then sank deeply into the cushioned chair provided. Beside it stood a low table, naturally stocked with liquor and snacks.
"I have a pretty good hunch about what you guys are hoping for, but I doubt you'll get what you want."
"That is quite all right. To tell the truth, the knights are not expecting anything grandiose."
"Looking at their eyes, it feels like I'll be lynched if I don't cough up some grand revelation."
"Haha... They are simply galvanized by your presence, Lord Aljen. Every knight in the order feels they owe you a debt of their very lives."
"...Your ass-kissing skills are genuinely impressive, Quino. Did you earn the spot as Brother Berga's adjutant purely with your tongue?"
"I wouldn't entirely deny it."
With a sly grin, Quino looked down at the knights moving in seamless precision and chuckled.
"However, my last words were not flattery. Everyone genuinely believes it. The tactical command you demonstrated back then was nothing short of miraculous."
"...Flattering me won't squeeze water from a stone. You're getting nothing out of me."
"Well now... I would beg to differ."
"..."
Unable to gauge his true motives, I narrowed my eyes at him, and he smoothly averted his gaze.
"Just to be crystal clear: I'm not a prophet, and I'm not an avatar of some deity, got it? If you're banking on that sort of thing, you're in for a massive disappointment."
"Yes, of course. I shall make sure the men are properly warned."
The way he said it made it blindingly obvious he didn't believe a single word.
"Hey, listen. That wasn't some political rhetoric, alright? I didn't say that as a wink-and-a-nod secret to keep under wraps. I said it because I'm literally neither a prophet nor an avatar."
"Understood completely. Leave it to me, Lord Aljen."
"God, you're driving me crazy..."
There was no getting through to the guy, so I shook my head with an exasperated sigh. Well, whatever. Let them believe what they wanted. Honestly, having people mistake me for a prophet or an avatar made things much more convenient in plenty of ways anyway.
"...By the way, where is Brother Berga? Doesn't he usually oversee training personally?"
"Usually, yes, but that cannot always be the case. As the vice commander of the order, he has a mountain of administrative duties. Today, he is attending a social gathering—one of those very duties."
"Is that so? Thank god for that. Frankly, I don't think I could have stomached listening to his bitter lectures today."
"...I sympathize with that sentiment entirely."
"Right? You really have it rough, man."
"Ahaha..."
Laughing awkwardly, he discreetly looked away.
"Adjutant Quino! Preparations are complete!"
"Good. Then we shall begin with the designated group! Make sure you don't embarrass yourselves today! Especially you, Calus!"
"Come on, what did I do to get singled out like that?! That's not fair, sir!"
When the knight named Calus shouted back in mock indignation, a ripple of quiet laughter broke out among the ranks.
Boom! Boom! Boooom!
The moment the massive war drum began to beat, however, the levity vanished as if it had never existed. Fitted in practice armor and blunted weapons, the knights' faces hardened like stone before they charged at each other.
The first match was a small-scale skirmish: ten against ten.
"Hyaaaah!"
"Urragh!"
Clashing with fierce roars, the two squads collided, savagely trading blows with blunted swords and shields. Watching them bash each other into the dirt was certainly a spectacle worth seeing.
"Ohh... pretty intense. Do you always drill like this?"
I drained my cup and opened my mouth; Muriel, waiting for the cue, smoothly popped a piece of cheese past my lips.
"Indeed. 'Train as you fight, fight as you train' is the foundational creed of our order."
"Hmm..."
The skirmish, where each side battered each other as though seeking real blood, reached its conclusion before long. It had been a fierce contest, but the side caught in a tactical trap began dropping rapidly, leaving a rather lopsided final tally of three to one.
"Bwahahaha! You've still got a long way to go!"
"Damn it!"
As the victors roared with laughter, jeering and taunting, the losers scowled, venting their frustration. It was the quintessential, familiar dynamic of an all-male military unit, inducing a strange twinge of nostalgia.
Really takes me back to my days in the army...
The drills pressed on without pause.
No sooner had the ten-on-ten concluded than the hundred-on-a-hundred clash kicked off. Watching a hundred armored men charge headlong at another hundred, reigniting their fighting spirit despite nursing bruises from the earlier rounds, was an impressive sight.
"..."
They were all giving it their all, and it felt a bit petty to admit it, but truthfully, it didn't stir much excitement in me. I couldn't deny it made for a thrilling spectacle at first, but by the time the hundred-man brawl wrapped up, I had grown completely bored of it.
Just what on earth had Urtega been thinking when he asked me to observe this?
Unable to divine his intentions, my brow furrowed.
"...Ah."
Could it be because I recognized Vivian's talent?
Did he assume that since I was certain about Vivian's gifts, I could pick out hidden gems among the knights as well?
If that was his angle, then I was terribly sorry to break it to him, but Urtega had barked entirely up the wrong tree. I hadn't discerned her talent through keen insight; I just already knew about it from the game lore. If I possessed an eye that could naturally perceive hidden potential, I wouldn't have needed an invitation—I would have shown up here long ago. If there were an effortless way to bind capable knights to my service under the guise of guiding their breakthrough to higher realms, would I really have passed that up?
"Sigh..."
I cast a glance over the knights who were now preparing for the three-hundred-man melee. Although it was my first time meeting any of them face-to-face, a few faces were recognizable. They were all figures recorded in the setting guides.
Yet all I knew was their past.
Why? Because in the original story, every single one of them was destined to die along with the fall of the ducal house.
"...Hm?"
Right then, an odd sensation stirred in my left arm.
"...?"
Looking down to investigate the peculiar feeling, my gaze locked onto an eyeball staring straight up at me.
My left arm, which had undergone demonic mutation, was presently wrapped tightly in the Unique Grade relic known as the Silk of Atonement. Yet from a seam between the tightly bound layers of fabric, an eyeball had abruptly poked its way out.
And just like the eyes of the Demon King Rubias, its pupil was a long, vertical slit that rolled lazily around.
"..."
"..."
Roll, roll.
Before I could even process what was happening, the eyeball darted busily about, scanning our surroundings. Then it swung back to look at me, curving into what resembled a mocking smirk, before slipping back inside and vanishing without a trace.
"...?!"
Gasping half a beat late, I clawed at the pristine white silk.
Yet the eye was nowhere to be found.
All that met my touch was the coarse black flesh densely covered in scales and feathers.
"Lord Aljen?"
"Is something the matter?"
"...No, it's nothing."
Muriel already knew about my condition, but if Quino caught wind of it, things would get messy fast. I hurriedly rearranged the silk wrap and pretended to focus on the knights' fierce melee.
"...Uh."
And in that very instant, an unfamiliar vision superimposed itself over my vision like a ghostly afterimage.
"This is..."
It was a moment where someone swinging a blade attained enlightenment.
It was a moment where someone's family drew their dying breath.
It was a moment where someone met a gruesome end amidst a desperate struggle.
Countless fragmented visions crashed into each other, violently forcing their way into my consciousness.
Instinctively, I understood.
These were the futures—or perhaps the pasts—of people I didn't know.
I was witnessing scenes that had no business existing in the present.
"Ugh...?!"
No, it was more than just that.
With every passing second, even more torrents of information shoveled their way into my head.
The significance of unfamiliar places laid itself bare.
The emotions and deepest psychological states of the people standing in those locations became instantly, tangibly graspable.
Ah. Is this the authority of a Demon King?
To think this is possible from only a minuscule fragment...
"Ngh...!"
"Lord Aljen?"
Wracked by a searing headache, I curled inward and clutched my temples.
"Lord Aljen. Blood..."
"...What?"
As I forced out a strained response while shaking my throbbing head, Muriel quietly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at my nose.
A crimson stain soaked deeply into the cloth.
"Are you alright? Shall I summon a priest?"
"...No, I'm fine."
The headache didn't persist for long; before a minute had passed, it vanished so cleanly that I began to wonder whether I had actually felt any pain at all.
"...Ha."
A hollow chuckle slipped past my lips.
I mean, seriously... I never asked to become an actual prophet.