Fernand had first met Rosalia even before entering the Academy.
It was around the time he had just established the Golden Pillar and begun building his private funds. They met at a banquet.
"Pellenberg? So you're that money-hungry brat who started running a trading company as a child," she had said.
At the time, Rosalia was looking for a sponsor for her research.
Fernand couldn't understand why someone from the noble Vienderk family would need an outside patron.
But once he saw the nature of her research, he decided it wouldn't be a bad first investment for the Golden Pillar.
And that partnership continued to this day.
"I can't say I grasp everything she's doing, but the test run was a success."
Even in theory, it looked flawless. If it went that smoothly at the academic conference, Fernand stood to make a fortune.
He had spent enormous sums of money and vast quantities of mana stones to support her, but the results were worth every coin.
Satisfied with the outcome, Fernand allowed himself a rare smile, imagining the bright future ahead.
But then—his head began to pound.
"…Ugh—"
He found the nearest bench and sat down, breathing deeply as memories began to rise unbidden.
["The Continental Academic Conference? You want me to come with you?"
"Yes!"
Aria beamed, nodding brightly.
"But I'm not even a mage."
"What are you talking about? It's not a magic conference—it's a continental one. There'll be plenty of knights there too."
"Really?"
Honestly, Aint had been curious himself. It was one of the most prestigious events on the continent—famous enough to stir excitement across nations.
Hosted by the Electors in rotation, though no longer ever in Armian.
He wanted to see it for himself—and maybe, someday, host it in Armian again.
– It wouldn't be a bad idea. I'm curious myself. ]
The first memory was of Aint Armian planning to attend the Continental Academic Conference with Aria.
From that alone, Fernand realized something ominous: the conference wouldn't go smoothly.
'That Aint bastard always brings disaster wherever he goes.'
Wherever he appeared, something involving the "evil breed" followed. That was one of the unchanging patterns Fernand had discovered from the prophecy book.
["A drake? Wait—no, not a normal one. It's a mutated variant. The scales, the eyes—they're different. But… why is it dying?"
"Looks completely drained of strength."
– It's simply reached the end of its lifespan. Mutations burn through life force faster in exchange for their strength.
– It must've clung to life for too long. Put it out of its misery.
– And since it's a variant, there's bound to be a core.
Aint swung his blade, severing the mutant drake's neck. There was some resistance, but barely any.
As Gardner had said, near its heart they found a small but genuine monster core.* ]
On their way, Aint and Aria encountered a dying mutant drake—and obtained an elixir from it.
'A mutated drake, dying of old age? What ridiculous luck.'
The core from a variant wouldn't be of the best quality, but still—an elixir was an elixir.
[The Vienderk capital, Godilita, was overflowing with visitors for the conference.
The streets were so packed that it was impossible to move freely, and Aint was certain he had never seen so many people in his life.
"This is incredible…"
"Of course. The Continental Academic Conference draws nearly every mage on the continent."
Along with nobles, merchants eager to invest, and the knights and mercenaries guarding them, the city was bursting with life.
"Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
"That person over there…"
Aint pointed.
"Isn't that Professor Rosalia?" ]
The next memory showed Aint and Aria arriving at the conference—and spotting Professor Rosalia Vienderk.
Up to that point, Fernand hadn't thought much of it.
He skimmed ahead, wanting to know when the real disaster began.
["Let me introduce everyone to our new project."
On stage, behind Rosalia, a white sheet was pulled away—revealing something massive.
A giant, perfectly round sphere of ice.
Mana radiated from it in waves, and its surface was covered in countless runes and intricate magic circles.
"Behold—the new form of mana crystal that will reshape the future of our world." ]
["So… what exactly…"
Rosalia's expression twisted—her calm, stoic composure shattering for the first time.
The thousand runes and circles etched across the ice began to glow irregularly, releasing unstable mana in a distorted rhythm.
"Is that… supposed to happen?"
"Something's wrong."
"That feels… bad. Really bad."
Most of the mages attending the conference were skilled enough to realize that this was not part of Rosalia's plan.
"Shut it down!"
"Cut off the artifact's mana flow!"
The shouts came too late. The artificial mana crystal concentrated its enormous energy and fired it skyward.
The condensed mana tore open the very fabric of space—splitting reality itself.
And from within that rift emerged…
A winged silver horse—and a figure astride its back.
"…What the hell is that?"
"A… Pegasus?"
"No. That aura—it's disgusting. That's no Pegasus!"
"A demon?"
No—neither man nor beast.
– You've got to be kidding me… Seir?! Aint! Get back!
– It's Seir—the 70th Demon of Hell! ]
A demon—Seir, one of the seventy archdemons—descended at the Continental Academic Conference.
"…What?"
Fernand's jaw dropped.
Now he understood why the "original future" had ended in ruin.
They say that when a person is too shocked, they can't even speak.
Fernand experienced that for the first time in his life.
No words came out.
Even if he tried, it felt as though his mouth were packed with sand.
His breath caught in his throat. Cold sweat streamed down his face. His eyes reddened.
What should he do?
How could he stop this?
How?
How?
Nothing came to mind.
If this catastrophe really happened—
what kind of aftermath would it bring?
No matter what happened, one thing was certain — both Rosalia Vienderk, the creator, and Fernand Pellenberg, her sponsor, were utterly finished.
"So this is how it ends. All the tension, all the buildup — and then it all collapses in one stroke."
This disaster would become the excuse to strip him of his family name and status.
That same horrific nightmare — the fall of House Pellenberg — would replay once again.
"All my efforts… all the changes I made… for nothing?"
No — not for nothing.
He had changed the future in countless ways.
His relationship with Ruina had become the best it could be.
He had even formed a cooperative connection with Aint.
He'd turned Berian, who was supposed to vanish quietly, into an ally, and had prevented numerous crises before they even began.
He had achieved results — undeniable ones.
And yet, if this incident occurred, none of it would matter.
Fernand would be finished all the same.
What good were his successes if they all went up in smoke because of this?
And it wasn't just any scandal — it was demonic summoning.
At a public event, no less, with other nobles and dignitaries slaughtered as a result.
"Where's the problem coming from?"
There were only three possibilities:
Rosalia Vienderk herself was a demonspawn.
One of her assistants was.
Or, some other demonspawn hidden within the Academy had interfered behind the scenes.
Fernand ran a trembling hand down his face. Whatever the truth was, the outcome would be the same.
No matter what else he was doing, this had to be dealt with — immediately.
No distractions. No hesitation.
He had to stop it.
At all costs.
Back at his quarters, Fernand pulled out the list of demonspawn suspects his father had sent him — and checked it again.
Neither Rosalia Vienderk nor any of her assistants were on it.
"…Damn it."
If they had been, he could've targeted them directly and investigated properly.
But now he was starting from scratch.
Just then, Hyde entered.
"You called for me, sir— wait, what's wrong? You look pale."
"Hyde."
"Yes, sir."
"Go to the temple. Fetch Jace. Tell him I need to see him."
"Jace Vines, sir?"
"Him — and Aint Armian."
"…Both of them? All of a sudden?"
"And deliver this letter to Professor Rosalia, discreetly."
"Excuse me?"
Hyde blinked at the rapid stream of orders, but took the sealed letter without complaint.
"May I ask what's going on?"
"I saw something horrifying."
"…Sir?"
"If my guess is right, my entire life is about to collapse."
"…I'm not following."
"I found something strange in Professor Rosalia's research," Fernand said.
"I think it might be demonic energy."
At that word — "demonic" — Hyde's expression changed instantly.
"…Are you certain?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
For that, he needed the help of Aint Armian and Jace Vines — the two people with the most authority and expertise regarding demonic forces.
The Pope would've been even better, but Fernand didn't have the influence to summon someone of that rank.
"I'll deliver the messages right away."
Hyde vanished, and Fernand began preparing to leave again himself.
His destination: a secret chamber beneath a store owned by the Golden Turtle Trading Company.
He didn't have to wait long before the door opened and a familiar face entered.
"You called for me, boss?"
The first to arrive was the money-hungry magical maniac, Jace Vines.
"You brought what I asked for?"
"Of course. Are we hunting another demonspawn?"
"Not exactly. This time, it's only a suspicion. And more importantly, I need your magical expertise."
Jace grinned. "As long as you're paying, boss, I'm always ready to obey."
"Good. Sit down."
Jace plopped into a chair. "So what's the job this time?"
"Wait a moment."
"…There's someone else coming?"
"Yes."
Soon after, footsteps echoed from outside. The door opened—
—and the two newcomers locked eyes.
"Aint Armian?"
"Jace Vines?"
They were in the same year but had rarely, if ever, spoken to one another.
Both turned toward Fernand in confusion.
"Aint, take a seat. We need to talk."
"Yes, senior."
Once everyone was seated, Fernand drew a slow breath.
"Listen carefully."
He hadn't meant to sound so grave, but his voice naturally sank low. That's how tense he was.
"I've uncovered the next plan of the demonspawn.
And to stop it— I need both of your help."
"...!"
"...!"
Rustle, scratch—
Rosalia's hands moved faster and faster as she went through her paperwork.
The faster she finished this mountain of reports, the more time she could dedicate to research — and research was all that mattered to her now.
Especially after Fernand had distracted her earlier, her schedule had already fallen behind.
"Tired."
How many nights had she gone without sleep now?
Being a mage, her stamina was far beyond that of ordinary humans, but even she had limits.
Exhaustion was piling up like snow.
Still, she refused to rest.
Sleep could wait. Her life's work — her years of effort — was nearing completion, and the Continental Academic Conference was only two weeks away.
Click.
She lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The familiar burn sharpened her weary mind again.
Knock, knock.
"Professor, a letter from Student Fernand just arrived."
Her assistant stepped in, holding an envelope.
"A letter? He just left barely an hour ago."
"I'm… not sure why, ma'am."
"Leave it and go."
"Yes, Professor."
Rosalia unfolded the letter.
As her eyes scanned the words, her expression darkened.
[All sponsorships are hereby terminated.
Furthermore, all research materials provided through this support will be retrieved… (truncated)
If you wish to contest this, meet me at the Golden Turtle Trading Company's tearoom.]
"…What a funny joke you've made, Fernand."
She snapped her cigarette in half.
All trace of fatigue vanished.
Sleep was no longer even an option.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE-https://payhip.com/Beastnovels