“Haa, haa....”
While the Prodigy Selection Tournant was reaching its climax, the Ringaarden estate remained peaceful, unlike usual.
“Alright, perfect.”
Parsha, who had her face buried in the office desk, muttered with blood trickling from her nose, wiping it with her sleeve, her eyes bloodshot.
“Out of all possible outcos, I’ve induced the most optimal flow.”
Next to her were things that would have made Whitney recoil in horror if he had seen them.
“I’ll probably be bedridden for weeks from now... Haha....”
For instance, traces of forged letters from the Count, which even fooled Whitney and Cecil, ticulously imitated the Count's handwriting and the magical seal known to be impossible to replicate.
And the bag of tricks originally ant for Lunelle, now right here.
“With this... Master will beco the greatest in history....”
Parsha, pushing everything aside, was polishing Whitney’s photograph on the table with a satisfied smile, carefully wiping it with a handkerchief, even though her body looked like it might collapse at any mont.
“Parsha, it’s been a while.”
“......!”
“This is the first ti we’ve t since you escaped from the lab, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, a voice rang out in front of ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ her, and for the first ti, the ever-smiling face of Parsha turned pale and stiff.
“Still, this mansion’s security is impressive. Just one white mage stationed here can keep out all black magic with that ancient barrier. Isn’t that cheating?”
“Ah...”
“Well, now that every white mage has left the mansion, it’s practically my own bedroom.”
It was a maid of the household, with eyes darkened black, exuding an aura that Parsha found chillingly familiar, who had entered the office.
“...Why are you here?”
“There’s sothing I urgently want to ask about the current owner of this mansion—Whitney.”
Parsha quickly realized this wasn’t just a maid but the leader of the black mages possessing her body. With tension thick in her voice, she asked, and the leader, speaking through the maid’s lips, stepped forward with a whisper.
“Since you’re already working in this household, why don’t you dig a little deeper into that boy?”
“.......”
“No matter how I look at it, he seems to possess the ‘Demon King's power’ too.”
At those words, Parsha’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but she quickly feigned confusion, putting on a blank expression as she asked the leader,
“...Why do you think that?”
“He just looks ridiculously evil.”
“Well, that’s true.”
At that response, Parsha forced a smile, visibly a little relieved.
“And... his mana’s wavelength, too.”
The leader, still possessing the maid, added with a subtle smile, and once again Parsha’s expression hardened.
“That mana is so wicked that even monsters instinctively recognize him as their master.”
“.......”
“I’m starting to wonder if he might’ve been born with the destiny of a Demon King, like the princess or the emperor.”
At so point, the leader had approached directly in front of Parsha and now casually sat on the table, chattering away with a gleeful look.
“Not to ntion, he even managed to bind my soul for a brief mont. Honestly, my heart nearly stopped that ti—”
“...What?”
“Fufu, never mind. Forget I said that.”
Trailing off mid-sentence, her eyes suddenly glead cold as she leaned in toward Parsha.
“In any case, I’d advise you not to think about switching sides.”
“......Kh.”
“You haven’t forgotten your duty while playing family with that damn old man, have you?”
As the leader reached out and stroked Parsha’s cheek, Parsha let out a strangled gasp and began trembling all over.
“You're supposed to make the Demon King, Parsha. That’s what you were created for in the first place.”
“Urgh...”
“That analytical ability you use—that ca from too, didn’t it?”
Between her neck and shoulder, a black brand suddenly appeared, glowing vividly and releasing smoke.
“For soone not born with the Demon King's destiny to use that ability—it’s a trendous honor, isn’t it?”
“I-I was wrong...”
Parsha, writhing in pain as cold sweat drenched her body, whimpered in a barely audible voice, but the leader simply stared down at her in silence with blackened eyes.
“Rather than saying you were wrong, you should be saying you’ll do your best.”
“Hiik... I-I’ll do my best.”
“Good. So don’t go getting distracted again.”
Only after hearing the response she wanted, following the long torture session, did the leader smile with satisfaction and caress Parsha’s cheek once more.
“...Of course, O Great Shadow.”
At that, the brand between her neck and shoulder slowly faded away. Forcing a smile, Parsha opened her mouth with a voice half-choked in sobs.
“You will beco the greatest Demon King in history.”
“...Fufu, of course I will.”
Wearing a bone-chilling smile, the leader quietly stood up and turned away.
“Well then, I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“...Yes.”
“Don’t forget—my eyes and ears are everywhere...”
And the mont those words were spoken, the maid’s eyes returned to normal, and she collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, echoing through the office.
“...Haha.”
Then, from Parsha’s mouth—still with her head buried on the desk—ca a cold chuckle.
“You’ve got to be kidding ....”
When she raised her head again, her expression, though twisted with pain, carried an icy edge.
“The one who becos the greatest Demon King... I’ll decide that for myself.”
Clenching both hands tightly with that look on her face, Parsha turned her gaze toward the photo of Whitney standing next to her.
“...Right, Master?”
Winking faintly at the photo with a pale smile, Parsha finally lost consciousness and collapsed weakly onto the desk.
***
“W-What are you talking about all of a sudden?!”
“W-We only ca because we heard there was a change to the tournant...”
The participants who had followed Bergen, disguised as the Head of Academic Affairs, into the arena all began speaking at once, startled by Whitney’s sudden announcent.
Even if the judges’ words were absolute in this tournant, the current situation was simply too bizarre.
“A-And what’s with the tremors from earlier, and that smoke covering the arena?!”
“A-And what is that thing writhing beside us?!”
“What on earth is happening?!”
The sky above the arena was covered in black smoke, blinding their vision, and beside Whitney, a woman with snake-like eyes was convulsing violently.
“Hmm... it’s a long story to explain...”
“I’ll kill you! You dare force — Urrrgh!!!”
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
“...I’ll explain later. For now, could you all just fight?”
Moreover, Whitney himself, blocking the woman’s mouth, simply mumbled with an extrely suspicious expression (which, to be fair, was his usual expression).
“Sothing... sothing’s off, right?”
“Sh-Shouldn’t we report this or sothing?”
In this situation, the fact that the students were even trying to cooperate seed more suspicious.
– Smack...!
If not for the nurous unseen variables created since Whitney’s arrival at the academy—and those that Parsha, his right-hand, had intentionally planted.
“Haa, haa....”
In the pitch-black darkness, Adel gasped for breath, her face pale, gripping a magic wand she had just used to strike her fellow upperclassman’s head.
“This is... an opportunity.”
The corners of her mouth twitched faintly with a tinge of betrayal blooming after a mont of hesitation.
“A chance to impress my future husband... I’d be an idiot to waste it.”
“W-Who’s there? Ack!”
“N-No, I ant it’s a chance to get first place. Haha...”
As sounds of people getting hit on the back of the head and collapsing continued in the darkness, fear began to creep across the faces of the students.
“Brother...”
But Adel wasn’t the only one acting in the shadows.
“T-This ti I’ll do as you say, brother.”
Cecil quietly picked up the sword dropped by the student Adel had knocked out, her trembling hands adjusting her grip as she muttered darkly.
“I’ll listen to you from now on, Brother...”
Her usual sharp intuition—sothing that should’ve triggered by now—had long since dulled from the shock of discovering the truth in the infirmary and witnessing Whitney collapse right before her eyes.
“This ti, please don’t die... Please...”
“Wait... Kugh.”
“Eeek!?”
Though her body and mind were still weakened, her skill had not faded. The mont her sword energy flashed in the darkness, the number of eliminated students began to skyrocket—several tis more than Adel’s earlier ambush.
“S-Sothing’s wrong...”
“W-We have to get out of here... Gahk!”
“...Wh-Who’s there? Kek.”
And finally, there was Robin—the doppelgänger even Whitney had montarily forgotten.
“R-Robin. We’re friends, rember...?”
“......”
“We’re even in the sa class... Kyah!”
Having received Whitney’s order to fight, Robin was already moving through the darkness as swiftly as Cecil, eliminating students one by one.
“E-Everyone! Fighting each other like this won’t— Aaaah!”
“D-Don’t co near ! Stay away!”
“T-This is hell...”
As chaos finally consud the participants of the Prodigy Selection Tournant and they began attacking one another indiscriminately, full-scale panic erupted inside the arena, now completely cut off from the outside.
“L-Lord Whitney! Please, save us...!”
In the midst of that hell, there was one scene so students would later agree was the most terrifying of all.
“T-This... This can’t be right...”
“...Haha.”
“Ah...”
It was Whitney—standing a step behind, his cold smile quietly exuding an ominous aura into the students hidden within the darkness.
– Smack...!
With the arena shrouded in chaos, none realized until much later—after getting knocked out by Adel, Cecil, or Robin—that what they had been struck with was Whitney’s custom protection spell.
***
anwhile, at that very mont...
In the skies sowhere over the world, the floating city of Aethernopolis—the Holy City of the Sacred Nation Astra—was drifting as always.
“...It’s ti to make a decision.”
Inside the Vatican eting chamber, where every major power-holder of the Sacred Nation had gathered, the atmosphere was colder and more tense than ever.
“The Sacred Nation can no longer stand idly by in the face of what is happening in the tournant.”
With a grim expression, the Pope, seated at the head of the table, finally spoke.
“The prophecy of the Hero, which has been secretly passed down since ancient tis, has beco severely distorted. If things continue like this, the world will inevitably be swallowed by darkness.”
Behind him, a massive crystal displayed a clear image of the tournant arena engulfed in black smoke.
“Therefore, from this mont on, I intend to deploy every available force—including all Paladins—into the Empire.”
The bishops observing the situation in silence began to murmur softly at the Pope’s declaration.
“Anyone who objects may speak now.”
Even for the Sacred Nation, with its influence across the world, deploying troops to the Empire’s capital without imperial permission was more than a simple diplomatic friction. If word got out that they had broken treaties and wiretapped a key facility like the Academy, it could escalate to full-scale war.
Yet, despite knowing this better than anyone, none of the clergy voiced dissent.
Their highest priority had always been—and always would be—the will of God and the preservation of divine law.
To the Sacred Nation, the inevitable conflict with the Empire was rely another trial in service of fulfilling divine order.
“Then I will take your silence as agreent...”
With that silent consensus, the Pope prepared to rise from his seat, having formally closed the period for objections.
“Your Holiness! Urgent news!”
At that exact mont, a priest in charge of the goddess statue burst through the doors with a panicked shout, causing the Pope and all the bishops’ faces to freeze in shock.
“There’s a new oracle! A new oracle has descended from the goddess statue!”
A divine ssage—a once-in-several-centuries event—had co again, not long after the unprecedented appearance of a new Saintess.
It was more than enough to shake the already tense atmosphere of the Vatican, which had been treading on thin ice ever since the Saintess went missing.
“...Perhaps the heavens haven’t abandoned us yet.”
The Pope, whose reputation had taken a hit following the Saintess’s disappearance, muttered briefly with a trembling voice, then regained his composure and spoke again.
“This eting is adjourned. We must first interpret the oracle—”
“U-Um...”
However, the priest, clearly flustered, glanced nervously at the others before hesitantly pulling the transcript of the oracle from his robes and whispering.
“I-I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to show this to everyone...”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
At that point, the Pope and bishops rely chuckled dismissively.
“Even if it appears strange, the oracle always hides sacred truths within.”
Though past oracles were famously filled with taphor and obscure language, everyone gathered there had devoted their lives to the study and interpretation of divine ssages.
“But still...”
“Co. Show us the transcript.”
“...Understood.”
The Pope, still confident, ordered the priest to present the text—especially since the last oracle about the Saintess Hestia had also been deciphered by those present in this very room.
“...Huh?”
But when the priest unfurled the oracle on the table, revealing it before the assembled rulers of the Sacred Nation—
“T-This is...”
“Hmm...”
All that ca from the mouths of the Pope and every other bishop were stunned gasps.
“The Saintess who escaped the shackles of fate shall choose the one with the Demon King's visage and the heart of a Hero.”
It was the shortest and most direct oracle in the over-thousand-year history of the Sacred Nation. And its ssage was powerful enough to shake the very foundations of the long-hidden prophecy.
“Thus the cycle of destiny shall shatter, and an era of uncertainty shall begin... Oh, who am I kidding, let’s drop the wordplay.”
The blunt, raw text had exposed itself for all to see.
“Sorry. Honestly, even I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”
– Ahahaha...
And so, in the silence that followed, the only sound echoing faintly through the Vatican eting chamber was Whitney’s sinister laughter, drifting from the arena feed in the crystal behind them.
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