“You stand as the next generation of heroes.”
There was no dissent among the gathered. The anticipation hung thick in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of the inevitable. While some may have felt the weight of the honor too burdensome, none were truly surprised by their selection.
Ivan attributed this acceptance to the customs of this uncivilized, pre-modern era. Here, succession was often dictated by lineage, a relic of tradition engrained in their culture.
In this world of hereditary privilege, it was expected that the daughter of a hero would follow in her father’s footsteps, just as the son of a knight would inherit his title. Thus, for the children of the hero party, the mantle of heroism was merely another expected inheritance.
“Yet, it’s far from natural,” Ivan declared, his gaze sweeping over the somewhat chilled audience.
“Nothing obtained without effort can truly be called natural. Isabelle, your lineage may trace back to Maximilian, but that alone does not make you his equal.”
Though his words were directed at Isabelle, the issue was not hers alone to bear. Unlike the trials of war that forged heroes in generations past, this era knew relative peace. Those who once faced the crucible of battle now found themselves navigating a society where prestige was bestowed simply by virtue of one’s parentage.
That’s not inherently negative; it’s simply the natural progression of civilization. However, now they were teetering on the brink of extinction.
The hero party wasn’t merely a product of their parents’ legacy; it was about forging their own path to heroism through sheer strength and determination.
The necessity for a hero party signaled impending trials of unprecedented magnitude.
“My parents… ‘This body’s’ parents were tenant farmers. I was conscripted into the militia and stood on the front lines, surviving on the battlefield for 30 years to be here,” Ivan recounted, his gaze heavy with the weight of his experiences. The group, now attuned to his words, listened intently.
“From here on, the journey ahead is long and fraught with challenges, intertwined with the legacies of your parents and…”
Ivan’s gaze met each companion’s with unwavering intensity. Behind them, the echoes of their youthful aspirations shimmered, casting a hopeful glow.
They dispersed, some forever lost, others immobilized by the gravity of their circumstances. No longer could they convene as they once did, sharing tales over food and drink, their laughter mingling with nostalgia.
And soon, it wasn’t just their individual images that surfaced, but the essence of their era – young, inexperienced, yet brimming with optimism, a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty.
The era wasn’t crumbling; it was merely shrouded in the darkness before the dawn.
It had to be this way, Ivan concluded.
“And those who stand with us,” his gaze shifted to the other group of companions – the possessed individuals, refugees from another realm, each bearing their own tale woven into the fabric of fate.
Their true identities were a secret known only to those gathered here, and thankfully, trust permeated the group.
Entrapped in this world, humanity found little inherent kindness. Each had to prepare in their own way for the challenges that lay ahead.
“It’s a tale that belongs to us all. Beginning with me, Maximilian, and the saga of the Demon King,” Ivan declared, signaling the commencement of a long and intricate narrative.
Both Maximilian and the Demon King were among the possessed individuals, much like Ivan and a select few others.
While the births of Maximilian and the Demon King didn’t raise many eyebrows – heroes were said to descend from the heavens, and the Demon King appeared one day, subduing demons – their enigmatic origins hinted at a deeper truth. It was a well-known fact among the nobility that such individuals seldom appeared in history.
Yet, possessed individuals like the Demon King and the hero inevitably left indelible marks on history, as if the world itself had ordained their feats.
Thus, the companions’ attention naturally gravitated toward the possessed individuals.
“Uncle…” Isabelle murmured softly, her voice barely audible amidst the hushed murmurs.
The other students, though possessed individuals themselves, hadn’t displayed any remarkable feats, leaving their presence relatively unassuming.
“I’m the top knight undergraduate student…” (Yuri)
“I have direct communication capabilities with you, so we’re somewhat close.” (Eugene)
“I’m an elf. We have long lifespans.” (Oswald)
Despite their status as possessed individuals, their lack of noteworthy displays left their impact minimal.
Isabelle disregarded the peculiar noises emanating from the possessed individuals, fixing her gaze on Ivan.
That man stood apart, unmistakably different. There was no need to elaborate on what set him apart.
Hadn’t it been said that superiority wasn’t merely inherited through bloodlines? Yet, it seemed almost inevitable, almost certain, that it was indeed passed down.
The offspring of nobles were born with an innate aptitude for magic. It was this inherent advantage that distinguished them as nobles, perpetuating their status through generations.
They received superior education, dined on finer cuisine, all built upon this foundation of privilege. Through intermarriage among noble families, their descendants ascended to even greater heights, surpassing the achievements of their forebears.
In the realm of nobility, stagnation spelled decline. Without progression from one generation to the next, they risked fading into obscurity.
It was a fundamental truth. Just observe the hero party – none of its members were born into ordinary or impoverished circumstances.
“But Uncle comes from a tenant farming background,” Isabelle interjected.
If that were true, it would explain why Ivan was also a possessed individual. To rise from the ranks of a conscripted tenant farmer to the man he was now required a deep understanding of such humble origins.
How many were aware of this fact? Isabelle couldn’t be the only one. But…
“No one, however, is quite like me.”
Her father, Maximilian, was also rumored to be a possessed individual. Did that mean he hailed from a similar background? Strictly speaking, she was a hybrid of two worlds – her heritage intertwined with that of this realm.
Isabelle clenched her fist, lost in thought.
“And mark my words, the United Kingdom will collapse within five years,” Ivan declared.
The companions, having grasped the gravity of his statement, stiffened and set down their utensils with a clatter.
Eugene let out a chuckle at the sight. “He means business. My brother came prepared.”
“As I mentioned during the Tylesse Civil War,” Eugene continued, “I can ‘quantitatively’ confirm certain matters. This is a phase of cross-verification to ensure unanimity.”
“T-That you’re speaking directly to us…”
“That’s correct. Five years. It’s been speculated as the United Kingdom’s remaining time,” Ivan stated.
The audience’s demeanor cooled at his proclamation. To hear that one’s own nation would collapse within five years, purportedly from a divine source, was unsettling, to say the least.
Could Eugene’s information be trusted implicitly? It hardly mattered. Eugene was a priest, and if he dared to deceive under the guise of divine revelation, he risked not only his position but his sanctity, primarily at the hands of the deity rather than just the clergy.
Questioning the legitimacy of divine revelation was deemed foolish; thus, the companions quietly awaited Ivan’s next words.
“In the next five years, anything could happen. The emergence of the Demon King, another war with the demons – the Union is far from peaceful,” Ivan continued.
The hero was absent, yet his fate remained uncertain. Though his circumstances were elusive, it was clear he hadn’t succumbed entirely to corruption. Had he truly fallen, Tylesse would have collapsed during the Civil War. His mere presence, defying the royal family, would have ignited rebellion against the divided monarchy
Jill Ber’s demise was more than just the loss of an individual. He embodied the United Kingdom’s most formidable force, the pinnacle of mobile strength.
Einar’s confinement to Drovian threatened the nation’s unity, as it relied solely on his authority. Alexander’s recent attempts to seize Ecdysis only reinforced Einar’s need to remain within his borders.
“Except for Veolgrin, the hero party’s military strength is incapacitated,” Ivan noted.
Veolgrin himself was elusive, perhaps scouring Kalion for Alexander, driven by recent aerial battleship encounters.
With Jill Ber’s absence, the United Kingdom lacked a military force of comparable strength, a predicament that could embolden the demons. However, the demons remained scattered, lacking a central figure, maintaining an uneasy equilibrium that was bound to falter.
The status window predicted five years – five years that only Jill Ber could have single-handedly endured, Ivan lamented bitterly.
The initial forecast in the status window was the survival of the United Kingdom for 10 years, but Jill Ber’s death shortened it to five years.
Essentially, Jill Ber’s continued existence, regardless of his condition, could extend the United Kingdom’s lifespan by another five years.
“The fracture between Krasilov and Tylesse could have been halted before reaching ruin. Drovian has resisted once, but the struggle isn’t over. Kalion’s future is uncertain,” Ivan analyzed.
Assuming each country harbored a contingency plan to neutralize the hero party, Einar of Drovian likely faced its own challenges.
Their current dilemma boiled down to one of two options: Kalion or Drovian.
“We must assess the situation in one of these countries. It will be our next destination,” Ivan proposed.
“Let’s head to Kalion!”
“Drovian is the better choice!!”
Ivan remained silent, choosing to prioritize information gathering over hasty decisions. Rushing into action without fully understanding the situation risked the Union’s survival.
Kalion or Drovian.
The fate of Einar or the fate of Veolgrin.
And who posed a threat to them?
“In Jill Ber’s case, unexpected adversaries emerged.”
Who could have foreseen the dozens of dragons sealed underground? The concern lay in the continuation of such clandestine schemes.
Hidden means to assassinate the hero party members lingered, orchestrated by those aiming to sow discord among nations.
Had Ivan not intervened in the Dwarf Civil War, Enrique would have faced the challenge alone. Abiditas’s potential resilience against Enrique’s tactics might have necessitated using the Dwarf Civil War as a cover for her assassination.
“No, the cult buried beneath Jansc University.”
If Ivan hadn’t preemptively broken the seal and addressed the threat directly, the deity, given ample time to amass power, would have descended upon Prechenkaya.
In the capital, still reeling from the civil strife with the crown prince, there would have been little to prevent such a catastrophe, leaving Enrique to intervene.
Had the Dwarf Civil War concluded without Ivan’s intervention, and with Abiditas’s support, Krasilov would have met its demise.
Though these events unfolded independently, the interconnected narratives of the world naturally dictated their convergence.
“If a similar crisis were to unfold in Drovian or Kalion, there would be no preemptive measures in place,” Ivan observed, highlighting the issue of information scarcity. While internal espionage could reveal Krasilov’s plight, Tylesses’s loss of Jill Ber and failure to avert civil war underscored the danger of insufficient intelligence.
But one failure was enough.
With a determined gleam in his deep blue eyes, Ivan asserted, “There won’t be a repeat of the same circumstances. Not this time.”
Rising from his seat, he signaled the end of the meeting.
“What? But we haven’t reached any decisions yet?”
“That’s not our immediate concern,” Ivan replied calmly to the bewildered group. “Focus on preparing for the final exams. Any action will wait until after winter break.”
In the academy stories, major incidents typically occurred once per semester – it was common sense. With the Tylesses Civil War averted in the second semester, it defied convention for another crisis to arise during the upcoming winter break.
As Ivan left, the students exchanged puzzled glances.
“After all that discussion, we’re back to focusing on finals?”
“Why prioritize finals like this?”
“Can’t we consult with our senior now?”
“That’s absurd!”
“Well, we agreed to discuss matters among party members.”
At Eugene’s suggestion, Isabelle sighed, clearing the table.
“Give it a try. If you return unscathed, then we’ll talk.”
