A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?!

The prophecies still existed, but some of them, due to the changes caused by Fernan, no longer made sense.

That had happened in Bercheff, and it was happening again now.

The demons who, in the original future, were supposed to spread terror across the continent, had already been eliminated.

That was also proof that Fernan was properly guiding the course of events.

‘Even so, the original future was truly horrible.’

Bercheff destroyed, Esrin plagued with monsters, Linelt ravaged, and three demons attacking the Empire at the same time?

And that in the middle of all that, I ended up ruined and expelled without a cent?

It was a relief that such a nightmare would never come true.

After finishing his conversation with Rector Rosalia, Fernan stepped out of the office.

Outside was buzzing with activity.

Students returning, professors resuming their posts, and also new students who had just been admitted.

Although the city hadn’t been fully rebuilt yet and there were no civilians, the selection of new students had already taken place a week earlier.

‘Too bad I can’t use the power of the prophecy book this time.’

In the original future, the academy was supposed to have closed its doors, so that semester no new students were admitted.

That’s why the book didn’t mention any outstanding students.

A shame, but nothing more.

‘Well, let’s check the student register first.’

He could identify the new ones the traditional way, no need for prophecies.

‘Now that I think about it, I’m already in my fourth year.’

Graduating next year.

Still, he had no intention of leaving the Academy immediately.

With demons still moving in the shadows, he had to stay as close to Aint as possible.

‘If I ask Rector Rosalia for a favor, she’ll surely find me a post.’

With her support, staying another year at the Academy wouldn’t be a problem.

You can always come up with a good excuse.

Time passed, and the students who had left the Academy began returning one by one.

“Fernan, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well, but you seem thinner.”

“I spent quite some lively time with my father. Ah, here.”

“A letter?”

“Yes. My father asked me to deliver it to you.”

Fernan unfolded the letter.

“Do you know what it says?”

“Yes.”

Luina had returned from Bercheff. In just one month under the frontier count’s tutelage, she had become even sharper and deadlier.

“Senior.”

“Your skin is quite tanned. Weren’t you in Armian?”

Aint had returned as well.

Fernan already expected it—after all, he had the best master possible, Gardner, by his side.

“I was in the Taklakan Desert, meeting with the tribes.”

“Taklakan?”

He had almost forgotten, but the desert tribes had sworn loyalty to Aint.

“Yes. They’re doing well. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like the corrupted are moving in that area again.”

Aint added that the tribes would join Armian’s army.

An excellent move—no, the best Armian could make at that moment. The desert tribes were a naturally fearsome force.

‘Was it Gardner’s advice, or is he starting to understand the situation on his own?’

Either way, it was a good sign.

“Senior, didn’t you miss me?”

Aria had also returned.

Fully recovered, she was now powerful enough to summon two high spirits at the same time.

“Do you level up every time you get brainwashed or what?”

“Stop saying that! It’s not because of brainwashing! It’s because I worked hard so it wouldn’t happen again!”

“But the result’s the same, isn’t it? Maybe if you get brainwashed a few more times, you’ll be able to contract the Spirit King.”

“Stop saying nonsense.”

Because if he was the one saying it, it was scary to think he might actually do it.

Aria clicked her tongue.

“……”

Verian had also returned. And like Luina, he came back sharper and more focused than ever.

“Looks like you were busy during vacation.”

“Yes. I defeated my younger brother in just two moves, and my father hasn’t let me rest since.”

Verian’s brother was none other than his rival for succession—Obert Kalburden, a youth nearly as talented as him, and one of this semester’s new students.

“So he’s officially acknowledged you as heir?”

“I don’t know. It’s impossible to understand what he’s thinking.”

Although Verian said it indifferently, Fernan had a different view.

‘The Marquis Kalburden is a typical noble—he craves fame, power, and prosperity for his house.’

He had pitted his two sons against each other to decide who would become the next head of the lineage, using anything that might benefit the family.

If he had started personally instructing Verian in swordsmanship, it meant he had already taken sides.

‘The Kalburden family is, after the Elector Princes’ lineages, one of the richest families in the Empire.’

He tried to push aside Armian to reach the title of Elector, but that dream was shared by all nobles, so he couldn’t blame him.

And so, with the return of all students and professors, the Academy began a new semester.

***

As professors and students returned, the Academy gradually came back to life.

It was as if Andrealphus’s appearance had been a lie—everyday calm reigned once more.

Fernan, sitting on the rooftop terrace of Ravidus Hall, drank a cup of hot coffee while overlooking the Academy’s landscape.

Two weeks had already passed since the start of the semester.

Although many areas were still unfinished, the buildings were rising quickly, and the scenery changed day by day.

“Sometimes, having a bit of free time isn’t so bad.”

It was the most peaceful period he had had in a long while.

Since the academic city hadn’t been fully rebuilt yet, the population had decreased considerably, and with that, so had the activities of the Golden Turtle Guild.

Nothing requiring his direct attention—only minor matters.

While pondering over the passages in the prophecy book, Fernan contemplated how to install the Bell of the Pasa in the Kingdom of Linelt.

“The young master doesn’t look very calm, I must say.”

“The Bell of the Pasa is the issue. How do I get it out of here? No matter what excuse I come up with, the Elector Princes will oppose it without hesitation.”

His father, Duke Yvon, was still buying time in the meetings, but no one could guarantee how much longer he’d be able to delay the decision.

The Black Turtles he had sent north should soon bring back some convincing evidence.

“Taking a relic of the First Emperor out of the Empire is crazy to begin with.”

“That’s not a relic of the First Emperor—it’s my mithril, my orichalcum, and my adamantite they used to make it.”

“But officially, it’s said that it was created with the collaboration of the Elector Princes.”

There was the problem.

Back then, to avoid shouldering all the costs alone, Fernan had made the Electors pitch in funds, and now that very move was tying his hands.

“Stop criticizing and give me a good idea, even just one.”

“I’m your escort, not your strategist.”

Hyde answered with total confidence. There was nothing to argue.

“Rather, read this.”

“A newspaper? I already read them all this morning.”

“It’s not from the Empire’s papers.”

Fernan took the copy. Just as Hyde had said, it didn’t belong to any of the five major imperial newspapers.

“Balden—that’s the most influential newspaper in Baroska, isn’t it?”

Baroska was a northern kingdom, bordering Grunard to the north and Hainburk to the northeast, and separated to the south by the vast Ern Bay, across from the Kingdom of Esrin.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Let’s see.”

Fernan unfolded the newspaper.

【The Continental Alliance expands! Following Alprosen, the Kingdoms of Esrin and Helfen confirm their accession.】

“Page 21, bottom left corner.”

There, a small article stood out.

【Red spots appear after using F■■■ cosmetics? Trouble for the brand once considered the best?】

At first glance, it was a direct attack on Flos, the luxury cosmetics brand of the Golden Turtle Guild.

“Have they lost their minds or what?”

More than anger, Fernan felt curiosity.

Though the Guild was headquartered in the Empire, it already operated in many countries, and Baroska was no exception.

In fact, the Golden Turtle Guild’s influence there was huge, especially among newspapers, which lived off its advertising and would never dare criticize their biggest sponsor.

“Want me to investigate?”

“No, leave it.”

Fernan shook his head. It was unexpected, yes, but not his direct concern.

“Father must already know. He’s surely aware of the cause and is looking for a solution.”

Duke Yvon Pellenberg had led both the Pellenberg Family and the Golden Turtle Guild for decades.

Even if Fernan had the prophecy book and achieved great results, he still couldn’t match him as a merchant, administrator, or strategist.

His father would take care of it. Fernan had other priorities.

“It’s time to prepare the New Emblem Tournament between Aint and Luina.”

The competition to obtain the title of Royal Knight.

Whether or not Aint obtained the title, he would remain a hero.

But without a doubt, a Royal Knight hero inspired more confidence than one without a title.

“Do you think it’ll be possible?”

“Read this.”

Fernan handed Hyde a letter from Luina.

[It’s been a while. You told me you hired Garrett for Bercheff…]

The letter was long, but the message was clear.

[…Even facing him, I couldn’t surpass him. What the hell did you do to this girl?]

Luina’s growth was terrifying.

[She’s my daughter, but her rate of improvement is inhuman. A hundred steps become two hundred, two hundred become three hundred in the blink of an eye. By the end of the break, I realized she’s already capable of facing other Royal Knights.]

A skill level worthy of a Royal Knight, endorsed by Albinos Bercheff himself, a man who never exaggerated.

The letter concluded by asking that, since he was busy rebuilding the territory, Luina participate in the New Emblem Tournament.

“If they ask us for something like this, we must accept. Bercheff and Pellenberg are too entangled to refuse.”

Linelt and Bercheff were, along with Pellenberg, the biggest partners of the Guild.

“And what about Aint Armian?”

“Since he returned, he’s been sparring with her every day. With Verian, Hyde, Professor Adolf, and Assistant Gismond, that’s five. And even then, only Aint can match her.”

Both had talent in abundance. What took others months, they achieved in just a month.

Just as the prophecy book foretold—the genius and the protagonist. Fernan was satisfied.

‘Making that proposal to Luina that day was the best move I could’ve made.’

“The only thing worrying is Schwaben…”

The title of Archmage was granted by the Pope of the Dragon God Cult, but the title of Royal Knight was conferred by the Emperor.

And the current imperial bloodline was still Schwaben.

“If Aint requests to participate in the tournament, I can already imagine the reaction.”

His role would be to smooth everything over and ensure the process unfolded without incident.

Fernan clenched his fist, resolute.

***

Ducal House of the Pellenbergs.

【Defect found in Golden Turtle Guild artifacts! Where is your pride in perfection now?】

Duke Yvon Pellenberg laid the newspaper silently on the table.

Just days after the article in Baroska, it was now the Kingdom of Juxen’s turn.

And it wasn’t the only one—in various northern kingdoms, malicious rumors about the Guild were starting to surface.

“What do you think is going on?”

“They’ve lost their minds, your grace.”

The Golden Turtle Guild, a continent-spanning organization, was the biggest client of all those publications.

And even so, they dared to bite the hand that fed them.

“The problem is, it’s not just Baroska and Juxen. In Grunard and Nellaton, articles are starting to appear as well.”

All with the same message—that the guild had serious internal problems.

“Did you meet with the directors?”

“Yes. They all say the same—that they only published the articles because they were paid, and that they don’t reflect their papers’ actual views.”

Nothing but worthless excuses.

“Should we pull the advertising?”

“That would be pointless. All those editorials are tied to royal families.”

Those who had begun attacking Pellenberg were, without exception, newspapers sponsored by the northern crowns.

This was no longer just press—it was monarchies making their move.

Pulling the ads would be a mistake. It would give them reason to play the victim and manipulate public opinion.

Under normal circumstances, Yvon wouldn’t have been bothered, but seeing so many northern kingdoms act in unison was far too suspicious.

“Do you think the northern kingdoms are behind this?”

If it were just one kingdom, he would’ve taken it as a sign of greed and sent someone to deal with it.

But a coordinated movement required caution.

“Send the Black Turtles to investigate. I want to know who’s behind this.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Until we have something concrete, not a single misstep.”

“Understood.”

The butler withdrew.

Duke Yvon ran a hand across his forehead.

Would it be coincidence that this happened just after Fernan spoke of “the corrupted in the north”?

“Whether they’re kings, corrupts, or demons…”

It didn’t matter.

The emblem of the Pellenbergs, the Golden Turtle, actually came from a snapping turtle—a predator that never let go of its prey.

“I’ll show them what happens when they try to snatch money from the Pellenbergs.”

His eyes turned cold as steel.