The descent of Andrealphus had inflicted enormous damage on the Academy.
Beyond the immediate losses, the aftermath would inevitably affect the institution’s future.
The rector would submit his resignation.
The buildings would be rebuilt.
New professors would be chosen.
For some, it meant a fall—for others, the arrival of an opportunity.
“So that’s the reason you wanted to speak with me?”
“Yes.”
Fernan didn’t avert his gaze from the rector and nodded.
“You want me to support Professor Rosalia as the next candidate for rector? Do you think I’ll resign?”
“Does what you think about it really matter?”
No. The rector’s opinion wouldn’t carry any weight in his own resignation.
Sad and empty, but that was the reality.
“Isn’t that what you truly want, deep down?”
“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed in the position, rector. But if you’re going to be replaced anyway, I’d rather the one taking your place be someone who can stand on my side.”
“You plan to manipulate the Academy from the shadows?”
“Do you really think Professor Rosalia is someone who can be manipulated?”
The rector tilted his head slightly.
“She certainly doesn’t seem like it.”
But that didn’t mean he was convinced.
“Either way, you never know how things or people’s hearts might change. Among merchants, we say that if you can’t buy something, maybe you just haven’t offered enough money. How do you know Rosalia doesn’t have a price?”
At that moment, a servant entered with tea and pastries.
The heavy silence between the two was enough for the servant to promptly retreat.
“Does that really matter, rector? Whoever the new rector is, they’ll end up being a puppet of one of the prince-electors. Wouldn’t it be better if it were someone relatively loyal to the Academy, someone who can remain neutral under pressure? Like Rosalia, for example.”
Fernan lifted the steaming coffee cup. The aroma was soft and pleasant.
“By your logic, I’m already an old wreck forced to resign. Why would you need my help?”
“Because even if you no longer have voting rights in the successor’s election, you have prestige.”
The rector was a capable and respected superior. Many professors admired and followed him.
Were it not for such extraordinary circumstances, there’d be no reason to force him to resign.
His support would be a crucial asset for Rosalia, who faced the barrier of her youth and short tenure.
Without the trust of other professors, she couldn’t even run.
“More importantly, rector, is what I can offer you.”
“You speak of strange things. I’m old and have no ambition left.”
“Who said I came to fulfill your material desires?”
Fernan already knew the rector had no thirst for wealth or power.
Of course, if offered a colossal fortune, he might waver—but there was no need to go that far.
“Then what are you offering?”
“Revenge.”
“Revenge?”
“Yes.”
Revenge against the demons who laid hands on his grandson, who reduced him to this state.
When death approaches, humans stop clinging to riches or power.
What remains is something else—the obsession with honor.
How the end will be remembered, how one’s story will be written in history.
The rector, who as Archmage and rector of the Academy could’ve retired amid everyone’s respect, now carried the stigma of having abandoned his students in their critical hour.
He was no longer a great rector, but a coward who fled.
“That sounds interesting. But why would I need your help? The demons will keep appearing, and I’ll have no shortage of opportunities to fight them.”
“Are you sure of that?”
Even in the face of the rector’s certainty, Fernan didn’t blink.
“Can you guarantee you’ll be there at the right time and place? That they’ll come asking for your help? That you’ll be able to defeat a demon and cleanse your tainted honor?”
“……”
The rector didn’t respond immediately. His expression hardened as he stroked his beard in silence.
After a few seconds.
“If I accept your offer…”
A faint spark of resolve lit his gaze.
“…Will you guarantee I’ll get to hunt demons?”
“As long as your abilities aren’t the obstacle, I guarantee it.”
Ah, of course. If you fail due to lack of skill, that’s not my responsibility. You understand that, don’t you?
“You’re saying…”
“Yes. I know.”
Fernan nodded.
“I know where the corrupt are weaving new plots.”
And also—
“I know where they plan to summon the demons.”
Fernan recalled the prophecy he had received two days ago.
***
Butterfly Effect.
The flap of a butterfly’s wings can cause a typhoon on the other side of the world.
Small actions capable of triggering enormous consequences.
Fernan had fought to survive after discovering his own downfall.
He altered countless futures and, in the end, managed to erase the one where he was supposed to fall.
But the price had not been small.
The entire future had twisted, and the Academy suffered the most severe attack in its history.
The victims were countless, and there was no choice but to shut it down temporarily.
At first, he thought it was his fault.
He soon realized it wasn’t.
Professor Dominique had been working at the Academy for nine years.
Being an avatar of Dantalion, something like this would have happened sooner or later.
All Fernan had done was bring the catastrophe forward.
And there he understood something.
‘Even if the future changes, the summoning of demons is inevitable.’
The summoning is not a one-day affair. It requires preparation, energy, and time.
That’s why, even if the variables change, stopping it once initiated is nearly impossible.
Despite purifying the World Tree, Andromalius was summoned.
Even though the future changed, Flauros was summoned and appeared elsewhere.
So Fernan was certain.
The summoning itself would not disappear, even if everything else changed.
[…]
The first vision of the prophecy spoke of Aint’s victory in the jousting tournament and Luina Bercheff’s fall into darkness.
But thanks to Fernan, Aint didn’t even participate, and Luina did not fall, as her house was not destroyed.
The second vision showed Aint approaching Duke Ivonne after Fernan’s downfall, strengthening the alliance between Armian and the duke. But that future had also changed.
What mattered was the third vision.
[…]
One morning, on his way to the Pellenberg mansion, Aint opened a newspaper and read.
【Demon descends upon the Kingdom of Linelt! The south of the kingdom turned into monster land.】
【Royal army in retreat. Asking for help from the Alliance.】
【The demon behind the chaos in Linelt the 62nd demon, Valac.】
【Kimaris and Decarabia head to Linelt. The demons seek to unite. They must be stopped before they succeed.】
【The allied army, previously preparing to reclaim Bercheff, now marches toward Linelt. Three Royal Knights and five Archmages lead the offensive.】
It was practically total war.
Three demons versus the first allied army.
— We must stop it. When demons gather, they strengthen each other.
— The joining of three demons would be the worst-case scenario.
Fortunately, humans were aware of the gravity and had mobilized their maximum strength.
— But if they still fail, it will be the end of humanity.
— You must go, Aint. To eliminate any risk.
Fernan had turned to the rector because of this third prophecy.
The demon would be summoned.
Perhaps it wouldn’t ravage Linelt as in the original history, but the summoning itself would occur.
Of course, there were differences.
In this new future, Kimaris and Decarabia were not present, and the attack on Linelt had not yet taken place.
Most likely, the demons were preparing the summoning at that very moment.
That’s why they had to act first: to prevent it or kill the demon the moment it appeared.
In the end—
“All right. If what you say is true, I will support Professor Rosalia.”
The rector accepted Fernan’s proposal.
***
He was attracting more and more attention.
“It’s Aint!”
“Where’s the Saint Bird?”
“Student Aint, would you eat with me just once…?”
“Recently, Armian…”
“Senior Aint! Please, just let me shake your hand…!”
It was enough for him to step outside for people to swarm around him instantly.
Even if he tried to avoid them, someone was always nearby—while walking, eating, even going to the bathroom.
Even so, he didn’t go out of his way to avoid them.
— You must get used to it, Aint.
— The emperor is the one who stands tall before everyone.
He knew he had to change, and although only a few days had passed, he was adapting quickly.
Now he could eat calmly while ignoring dozens of eyes fixed on him.
— And get indigestion just from that?
‘Compared to before, when I couldn’t even take a bite from the discomfort, this is major progress.’
He had even asked others to at least not disturb him during meals.
And so it was now people respected his request and watched from a distance, not sitting next to him or trying to touch him like last time.
— And to think they say that just shaking his hand brings good luck and protects you from magic. Absurd.
— Well, a thousand years ago there were rumors like that too.
‘I can’t help it. If it gives them some peace of mind, it’s fine.’
Then a shadow cast itself over the table. Someone dragged a chair and sat across from him with total nonchalance.
“Se… Senior?”
“Lasagna? Wow, that looks tasty.”
It was Fernan.
“It’s Fernan.”
“What he has around his neck—is that the Ego Golem?”
“Are Aint and Fernan close?”
The murmurs around them intensified.
Snap. Fernan snapped his fingers, and a transparent silence barrier rose between them and the crowd.
“What’s going on?”
“Do I need a reason to come see you?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Actually, there is one.”
“……”
Fernan gave a sideways smile and got straight to the point.
“Aint, doesn’t it infuriate you to see the Academy reduced to this state?”
“Of course it does.”
“Then, wouldn’t you like to come with me to hunt a demon?”
“…A demon?”
“Yes.”
Fernan nodded calmly.
“If they hit us once, it’s only fair we hit them back.”
____
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