The Ert family was nothing more than a small barony in the southern continent.
No special products, not many people. Just one of countless territories in the Empire where folk lived by farming day to day.
But Gismond had some talent, and Count Barmond noticed him. With patronage, he was able to receive knightly training.
That way, he entered the Academy.
"From there, it's as the young master already knows. He lived an ordinary academy life and passed his first year without issue… but from the second semester of his second year, he began to change little by little."
"Did he receive anything from his family?"
"Nothing in particular."
"And from Count Barmond's patronage?"
"Money and some minor potions, but nothing noteworthy."
Fernan flipped through the report page by page.
He had received two potions, but both were low-quality, common items with little mana. They couldn't explain his current level of aura.
Clearly, something was being concealed.
And with high probability, it was demonic power. The report only made that suspicion feel closer to certainty.
"Where did he go and what did he do over the break?"
"We are still investigating the details, but he traveled to the Pandrein continent."
"Pandrein? Isn't the Ert barony in southern Lutar?"
"Yes."
So, he must have gone to Pandrein with a purpose. Fernan sensed instinctively that Gismond's secret was hidden there.
"Where did he disembark, and where did he go?"
"Ramos, in Frajia."
"…Ramos?"
Ramos was Frajia's port city, one of the major trade hubs with the Lutar continent. A large city where mercenaries especially gathered…
"Wasn't Ramos the city where Aint Armian registered as a mercenary during the break?"
"That's correct. More precisely, he registered at Ramos, went to Abellar, and then worked in the royal capital."
"Either way, that means Aint could have crossed paths with Gismond."
"Unlikely."
Hyde shook his head.
"Gismond went south. We are still tracing his exact destination."
"South?"
There were many cities south of Ramos. But two places immediately came to mind.
Count Frans' territory, where the obsidian mine lay.
And Fort Fayors—the first line against Plaurus's legions.
Just a baseless worry?
But Fernan had never benefited from ignoring his instincts.
There was a connection. Surely.
Even if not, it didn't matter. If he could at least put his unease to rest, it would be worth it.
"Track down his movements during the break no matter what. There is a high chance that boy is a demonbreed."
"You mean he managed to evade the Academy's eyes?"
"If my guess is right."
"I accept the order."
"And Hyde, you are to attach yourself directly to him and monitor his every move."
Hyde's expression hardened.
"I cannot leave your side, young master."
"You are the one I trust most right now."
"That is exactly why. You promised, did you not?"
"What could possibly happen within the Academy walls?"
At Fernan's words, Hyde forced down a flare of anger.
"A demon was summoned."
"It was the first and last time. Do you really think they could summon one twice, with the chancellor's eyes wide open?"
The summoning of a demon had only been possible because the Academy had never once considered the possibility of demons or demonbreeds.
"You gave your word."
"Promises exist to be broken."
"Can a merchant really say such a thing?"
"Twisting words to one's own benefit is also a merchant's virtue."
"No. I won't allow it."
"It is an order."
"..."
Hyde bit his lip.
"The demonbreeds were all taken care of by the chancellor. Now the only one left who reeks of being one is that boy. Do you really think I'll be in danger if you're watching him?"
"…I can't match you in debate, young master."
"Eloquence is a merchant's essential virtue."
Snap. Fernan closed the report.
I should meet with Aint.
The best way to confirm whether someone was a demonbreed or not was to use Aint Armian.
"That must be him."
Aint watched the man drinking beer boisterously with a group of students.
Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes—the appearance matched exactly what Fernan had described.
It was Gismond Ert, a third-year student of the knight faculty.
"So that guy's a demonbreed?"
"Not a demonbreed—possibly a demonbreed. But Fernan said the likelihood is high."
"He doesn't look like one. Does he suddenly transform?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"So do we have a way to confirm it?"
"Sort of."
Aint replied while picking the bones clean off a spicy, tangy-sauced chicken wing.
"Strange."
Aria rested her chin on her hand, staring at Aint with eyes full of unknowable thoughts. It was unnerving.
"What is?"
"That you have a way to find demonbreeds no one else can. Is it something only an Armian can do?"
"In a sense. And it's not like no one's ever found them."
According to Fernan, twelve demonbreeds had already been captured or killed by the Guardians.
"But they haven't found any more, which is why demonbreeds are being left alone like this."
"It's only suspicion, anyway. And the one suspecting isn't me, it's Fernan."
"But in the end, he asks you to confirm it."
"It's just that opposites repel each other, so I sense them better."
The one doing the actual searching was Gardner.
Lord Gardner, should I make contact?
— Yes. You can't tell from appearances. If you could, they'd have been caught long ago.
"Then somehow we need to approach him naturally…"
"That's easy."
Aria suddenly sprang up, grabbed Aint's hand, and marched straight toward their table.
Startled, the four at the table turned their heads. Aria met their gazes with a bright smile.
"Hello, seniors."
"Uh…?"
"…Aria Pridian?"
"You know me? Mind if I sit for a bit?"
Without waiting for a reply, Aria slid right into the seat beside them. Then she gestured to Aint.
"Aint Armian?"
"You know him too?"
"Of course…"
"We knew about you from the jousting finals. Ah, may I try one of these?"
With that brazen charm, Aint found himself sitting down as well. Whether coincidence or not, the seat next to him was Gismond Ert's.
"Gismond-senior? Honestly, I was surprised. I didn't expect you to perform so well in the jousting tournament."
"…Really?"
"Yes. I wanted to meet you, and here you are, right while I was drinking with Aint. Isn't that an amazing coincidence?"
"Y-yeah, I guess. But compared to you two…"
"Even so, your achievement shouldn't be dismissed."
Aria smoothly led the conversation, drawing attention.
As though practiced, Aint let his necklace brush lightly against Gismond's body.
Subtle mana seeped into Gismond Ert's flesh.
"…Huh?"
"Are you listening to me, senior? Did you know? Elves really hate it when people get distracted during a conversation."
"Ah, yeah."
Gismond seemed to sense something strange, but soon he was swept right back into conversation with Aria.
And in the meantime, Gardner was thoroughly probing Gismond's aura-hole.
— This one's a first. Just how recklessly did he gulp down potions? His aura paths are all tangled and filthy with impurities.
Residual traces of potions clung all over his body, never fully absorbed into the aura-hole.
He took potions so recklessly? But the Ert barony isn't even wealthy enough for that…
— Maybe he had sponsorship.
— No, I take that back. Even with sponsorship, no one consumes potions this idiotically.
— He's barely holding together now, but it won't be long.
What do you mean?
— The day his body bursts. He's at his limit. If he ever stops expending aura for even a day, his aura-hole will rupture.
And not just the aura-hole—the body itself might explode.
What's worse, most of the potion residues weren't even properly refined. From them, Gardner could roughly guess what he had consumed.
— Itarium root. A drake's mana-hole? No, ordinary drakes don't have one, so it must have been a mutant. Leaves of the Explaining Herb… this purity—could it be Everwater…?
— He really swallowed every strange thing under the sun. Come to think of it, Aint, among what the late emperor left behind, there's also Everwater. Soon, we should head to Pandrein and—
That's for later. What about demonic power?
At Aint's question, Gardner fell silent briefly before answering.
— None. Not even a speck the size of a grain of rice. Not a trace it was ever there.
— He's just stitched together countless potions like rags. He isn't infected with demonic power.
— In some ways, that's even stranger.
I see.
Aint re-hung Gardner around his neck and gave the faintest nod.
"Ah. Come to think of it, I just remembered I had an appointment. It was fun today, seniors."
"Suddenly? Weren't you just drinking with Aint?"
"I had someone else to meet as well. I was just having a light drink with Aint until then. Let's go, Aint."
Before Gismond and his friends could react, Aria departed as swiftly as she had approached.
"It was a pleasure, seniors. Until next time."
Leaving them behind with blank faces staring after Aria's back, Aint bowed slightly and followed her out.
"Did you find anything?"
"No."
"You mean there was no demonic power?"
"Right. He's not a demonbreed."
"That's odd. Then Fernan was wrong? How did he suddenly get so strong?"
"Potions."
"You don't just grow that fast from potions."
"He took far more than that."
Aria blinked twice, then her lips curled into a crooked smile.
"So he turned out to be quite the amusing senior. But how's his body holding together? He didn't even seem that well-trained."
Well, trained by Academy standards.
"He's hanging by a thread."
"Then where'd he even get all those potions? And seriously, he's a noble and an academy student but doesn't even know basic potion lore? How did he get into the Academy?"
Blunt words, but not untrue.
The human body was fragile. Reckless, excessive potion use would often cause mana to run rampant.
"Whatever the source, it's a waste. Priceless potions wasted in an unworthy body."
Having lost interest once she knew it wasn't demonic power, Aria quickly grew bored.
"Well, Fernan must know how he got them. He never misses even trivial details."
"What now? Do you actually want to go drink?"
"Why do elves like alcohol so much?"
"Because 'elf' and 'wine' are words that belong together."
— She's right. Elves practically live with fruit wine on their lips.
So "drunkard" was their default state. Aint hadn't known that.
"No. We have to go report the results to Fernan."
"Does it really have to be now? Doesn't feel urgent."
"When it comes to demons, when is it ever not urgent?"
"Shame. What about after that?"
"I'm going to the closing ceremony."
Aria tilted her head.
"I thought you weren't going?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because the emperor will be there."
"…Didn't expect you to say it so bluntly."
"Just enrolling at the Academy means you don't care about that kind of thing, doesn't it?"
She shrugged casually, which made her look irritatingly smug.
"Then why'd you assume I wouldn't go?"
"Not caring and actually facing it head-on are two different things."
— She hides it well, but she's sharp.
Aria dismissed it lightly, but her words pierced Aint's chest.
She was right. If it were just about indifference, Aint wouldn't have wanted to attend.
But that wasn't it.
The Emperor of the Empire.
A throne that had once belonged to the Armians.
As the rightful heir of Armian blood, he wanted to take it back. He had gained the strength and allies to do so, and the stage was about to be set.
The first emperor had founded the Empire after the descent of demons.
History was about to repeat itself, and Aint didn't want to miss the opportunity.
He wanted to see it—
The current imperial family and the man who sat on that throne.
Huff. In that moment, he felt hot breath.
"…Wh-what?"
Aria had leaned in close, emerald eyes shaped like crescents.
"Good eyes. Eyes full of ambition. Just now, you looked exactly like Fernan."
"…What?"
Her face pulled back again, but Aint's heart pounded wildly.
"Then let's go see. After we check in with Fernan…"
"You two there."
At that moment, two hooded figures approached them.
"Are you Aint Armian and Aria Pridian?"
"You know us?"
"Good, we found you. I am—ah, wait a moment."
The man fumbled in his robes for a while, then pulled out a badge.
"This is who I am."
"…This…?"
"...!"
On the metal badge was engraved a single thunderbolt.
"An honor to meet you both. I am Inquisitor, Girard Izuel."
The man bowed deeply and politely.
Inquisitors.
A thousand years ago, after the first emperor had driven away the demons, he established them to hunt the remaining monsters and demonbreeds across the continent.
Once, their might had rivaled even the Electors, and all trembled before their authority.
But that was only past glory.
As demonbreeds dwindled and monsters were slain, the Inquisitors were no longer needed.
Their power weakened.
Ironically, the harder they worked, the more they eroded their own relevance.
Demons and monsters were soon forgotten, and their authority withered.
Now, they were little more than scarecrows, barely maintaining existence under the first emperor's decrees.
Though nominally under the emperor's direct command, the Schwaben family—who had stolen the throne from the Armians—had all but abandoned them.
Without the sponsorship of noble houses, the Inquisitors might have already disappeared.
And now, one of the few still enduring stood before Aint.
"…What business do you have with me?"
"Well… this isn't the best place to talk. How about we go somewhere quiet?"
"Are you saying I have to follow you?"
"No, only that it would be good if you did. Ah, of course, this isn't a threat. Truth is, we don't even have the power to threaten someone and deal with the consequences!"
Girard Izuel laughed cheerfully.
"It's only because I believe you can guess the reason I sought you out. We have a rather desperate matter of our own."
Though he smiled awkwardly, his eyes wavered uncontrollably. He looked just like…
"…Like an abandoned cat."
Hic! Aint nearly jumped out of his skin. Having the same thought as Aria was one thing—but for her to say it to his face?
"Watch your mouth…!"
"But it's true."
"An abandoned cat, huh. Well. Not inaccurate. We were abandoned by the Schwaben imperial family."
At that self-deprecating reply, Aint closed his mouth.
"That…"
"It's fine. We were thrown aside a hundred years ago. I hardly care anymore. Besides, I only became an Inquisitor thirty years ago, so those first seventy years aren't even my concern."
— So this is how the Inquisitors have been treated…
Gardner's voice carried quiet fury.
— The Inquisitors were the late emperor's safeguard, created in preparation for the demons' inevitable return.
— And now they've been reduced to this? Meaningless. Fools. Could they not imagine that the emperor must have had a reason for leaving such an order behind?
I can understand, though.
It had been a full thousand years. Even as the emperor's legacy, the Inquisitors had long been little more than a burdensome relic to nurture and maintain.
"You approached us because of the demonbreeds, didn't you?"
"Correct. We also heard the rumors. That demonbreeds appeared inside the Academy."
Girard lifted both arms with exaggerated flourish, though his voice stayed hushed, mindful of nearby ears.
"Why us?"
"Even abandoned, we have endured a thousand years. Aint Armian, Aria Pridian—you two and three other students met personally with the Chancellor. We had ways of learning that much."
And surely you were the ones who discovered the demonbreeds and reported them.
"Right after that, the Chancellor convened the Academy executives and the Guardians. They wiped out the demonbreeds. I regret not being there to help finish them. You see, though I am an Inquisitor… I've never actually fought a demonbre—"
"Girard."
Someone abruptly cut him off.
"Fernan-senior?"
"Senior."
It was Fernan.
"Been a while."
"…Ah. Seems I talked longer than I intended. Long time no see, Lord Fernan."
Girard's lips twisted into an ambiguous smile.
"I should have taken them away sooner."
"That would have been abduction."
"If it's voluntary, it's not abduction."
"Ask me, and I'll tell you myself."
"I have no money. Try bleeding a flea dry."
"…The Chancellor seemed to be looking for you."
"Ha. I suppose I should have tortured you instead of wasting time chatting."
"…Torture?"
— Torture?!
The word burst out, leaving both Aint and Gardner choking back gasps.
"This is the Academy. Aint and Aria are Academy students."
"Which is why I wanted to talk. Well, so much for that. Until next time, then."
Girard bowed and withdrew.
"…Wow."
Aria muttered as she watched his back.
"I really don't like that man. I've never hated a human this much before. Why now, I wonder?"
"Self-hatred, maybe."
"I'm an elf. He's a human."
"Nothing. Forget it."
Fernan shrugged.
"Who is that guy, senior? Torture, seriously?"
"As you can guess, he's not normal. Best to avoid him. Not just Girard the Inquisitor-General, but the other Inquisitors too."
"Inquisitor-General? He's the head?"
"Yes."
Fernan nodded.
"That guy is the leader? He seemed a little… off."
"You'd have to be mad to want to lead an organization with no future."
From here on, things would change. But until now, with no one expecting demons to return, who but lunatics would ever choose to join the Inquisitors?
"Anyway, let's go. The closing ceremony isn't over yet, even if we're a little late."
"Yes!"
"Right."
Fernan led them into the arena. The staff recognized them and offered no resistance; they reached the prime seats without trouble.
The award ceremony had finished. Ruina Verchev, along with the winner of the Magic Tournament, Liana Horton, each held a trophy of solid gold.
The Emperor sat on the high seat, chin resting on his hand. Slowly, the Chancellor stepped forward.
"Professor Rosalia?"
"What's that…?"
"Seems they mean to announce it today."
Professor Rosalia followed behind the Chancellor, and beside her stood a figure encased in ice.
It wasn't hard to guess. That was one of the demonbreeds the Academy had captured.
So it's today. Certainly, this is the perfect stage to reveal something.
Fernan quickly calculated the aftershocks. Demonbreeds, appearing after a thousand years…
And then—the Chancellor and Professor Rosalia froze mid-step.
Not only them.
Knights, attendants, maids—all the servants rushed in to whisper frantically into their masters' ears.
The once-quiet stadium erupted in chaos.
"What's happening?"
"Something must have happened."
While the first-years floundered, a merchant from the Golden Turtle Trading Company hurried to Fernan.
"Young master!"
"What is it?"
"Urgent dispatches from Altriorc and Alprosen. A massive horde of monsters and beasts has broken out of the Taklakan Desert and are attacking the Empire and Kingdom."
"…What?"
Monsters? Beasts?
"The numbers are so vast across the western front that we can't confirm, but the estimate is about ten thousand. Altriorc is holding for now, but Viscount Damus's house has already fallen…"
"…This is insane."
A horde of nearly ten thousand monsters and beasts?
There was no way this was natural.
Demonbreeds.
Struck at the Academy, the demonbreeds had already made their next move.