Love Letter From The Future

A rumor was spreading through the Academy like wildfire.

It was hard to believe. The famous ‘Golden Fortress’ had been reduced to ashes by a single attacker.

It was common knowledge that defending a fortress was easier than attacking one. Even those who hadn’t specialized in strategy would agree if they had even a superficial understanding of warfare.

So, those who had heard the news could only scoff.

Even after pondering it again, it was nonsensical.

What kind of place was Alphenhausen’s ‘Golden Fortress’?

It was a magical realm filled with all sorts of devices and traps. Even the lowest-ranked guards on duty knew how to wield Aura, and there were several knights and high-ranking mages residing there, each at the level of an Expert.

What if they had the advantage of that space and attacked all at once?

Even a High Expert or an Archmage could not guarantee survival. Moreover, such nobles had no reason to gamble their lives recklessly, making Alphenhausen’s ‘Golden Fortress’ truly deserving of its reputation as invincible.

At least until the morning arrived.

The ruins that couldn’t withstand the cold dawn air had collapsed. White ashes scattered, and only the black smoke rising like remnants of fire testified to the horrors of the previous night.

The crowd that had gathered like ashes all silently chose to stay quiet.

Just moments before, they were doubting the truth of the rumors. But in front of such clear evidence, what use was common sense?

Only one word was staining their empty minds.

The fall of Alphenhausen.

It wasn’t exactly a logical conclusion. It was just one stronghold that had fallen. The true strength of Alphenhausen was surely deeper and stronger than that.

Yet those who witnessed the tragedy couldn’t help but imagine such a future, as if a revelation had come down from the sky.

The sound of footsteps cut through the silence held by the onlookers.

They were high-ranking officials from the Academy. The names of celebrities arriving began to trickle out among the crowd.

Derek, the Skull Collector.

Adriana, the strongest Archmage of the land.

Delmore, the Guide of the Falling Star.

With each powerful figure that emerged, the commotion in the crowd grew like waves. And then, suddenly, a man appeared through the dim dawn.

“Ian Fercurus…!”

With that quiet sigh, the silence enveloped the area.

Perhaps it was the somber expression of the man with black hair and golden eyes that compelled it.

Each time the man in the Academy uniform took a step, the crowd naturally parted. The reflection of the burning Golden Fortress of Alphenhausen shone on his solitary golden retinas, and soon his gaze fell below.

There lay the groaning knights of Alphenhausen sprawled out.

“Ah, aah…!”

“P-please save me… my body… my body is… ughhh…!”

Every single injured person cried out in pain without exception.

Ian silently absorbed the horrific scene for a moment, then began to move forward again. There was no one to block his path.

Even the guards controlling the scene acted similarly. Although they thoroughly restrained the onlookers, there was no hand to stop the man.

There was no one with any complaints about this. Even though he wore an Academy uniform, his stature was incomparable to that of an ordinary Academy Student.

A sacred figure of the continent, a countless hero who had defeated humanity’s enemies.

The bard referred to him as the ‘Morning Star’ knight.

It was utterly natural to treat a special being as special. Without any particular communication, everyone here knew that fact, and thus those who saw the man crossing the control line displayed no signs of surprise.

The middle-aged man with red hair and a fierce look was no exception.

“Ian.”

“Professor Derek.”

In response to Ian’s somewhat exhausted voice, the middle-aged man known as ‘Derek’ let out a deep sigh without a word. The dark fatigue in his eyes represented the middle-aged man’s mood.

Derek, the Skull Collector.

A renowned monster hunter who had crossed countless lines and was a seasoned swordsman. Even he seemed pained by the scene before him.

It was that horrific.

Dozens of knights were lamenting. The writhing bodies in pain caused psychological fatigue in anyone who gazed upon them.

What a wretched sight it was.

Ian soon withdrew his gaze from the atrocity. His head was already pounding, and he saw no reason to complicate matters further.

He only murmured a brief question.

“What happened?”

A short yet comprehensive inquiry.

In truth, Ian knew nothing of this situation. He had hastily come to find Alphenhausen’s attendant who had come seeking him since dawn, and he had come dressed as was required.

Derek began to lay out the desired information straightforwardly.

“Last night, Alphenhausen’s Golden Fortress was attacked. More than seventy knights were slaughtered. Most didn’t even have a chance to resist. There were even a few Experts and high-ranking mages residing there…”

“What about the intruder’s numbers?”

“Just one.”

A quiet sigh escaped Ian’s lips. The tightness of his closed eyes revealed his mixed emotions.

It was entirely possible the intruder was a High Expert, if not someone even stronger.

There was no way such a powerful figure would just appear out of nowhere. The only possibility would be a hidden force that had been concealed for thousands of years.

The culprits were probably the ‘Dark Cult’.

Just as Ian reached this unspoken conclusion.

“Ah, ahhh! My body… it’s melting… urgh, grrrr…!”

A crackling, excruciating scream echoed as someone squeezed their guts, causing their body to twist in agony. Despite the bubbles forming at their mouth, the only thing reflected in the eyes of the man screaming was dark fear.

Through the bandages wrapped around his chest, a glimpse of melted flesh was faintly visible. And the sparks of flames flickered and rose.

Ian paused for a moment, his brows narrowing.

“…Burns?”

“I heard that even dozens of priests’ divine powers couldn’t heal it. As you know, the pain of burns is beyond imagination… Some patients see hallucinations like that.”

After hearing Derek’s thorough explanation, Ian’s eyes sank even deeper.

His gaze scanned the body of the wailing man, examining every inch. The developed muscles, the density of magical power emanating from the excitement, and various other elements.

The conclusion was reached swiftly.

At the very least, an Expert.

Ian’s suspicions deepened.

“A swordsman of that level?”

“Or it could be the result of a forbidden spell. If not, it could be due to the mental shock from having been unable to resist… Nothing has been definitively established yet.”

Hmmm, swallowing his saliva, Ian stepped forward again.

The ominous premonition continued persistently.

It felt as if something was tapping on his heart with bony fingers.

Every member of the Dark Cult he had faced so far had been formidable foes. It was natural to expect that this time’s enemy would not be an easy opponent either. Yet, had he ever felt this anxious before?

Why was that?

No matter how much he pondered, no answer emerged. Or perhaps he was intentionally avoiding looking for one.

Ian thought this way but did not stop moving. He felt a growing sense of anxiety that if he stopped now, he would have to confront something.

Yet that breeze was soon thwarted.

By none other than Ian himself.

As he silently surveyed the faces of the victims, Ian’s expression stiffened. His wide eyes were yelling disbelief instead of words.

Then came the suffocating scream that escaped.

“Senior Luna…!”

Ian rushed toward the fallen woman, hoping desperately that his vision was mistaken.

Of course, that wish would never be fulfilled.

Her skin was pale as drawing paper, her complexion ghastly, and her silver hair seemed to shimmer as if woven from pure silver.

No one could mistake it—she was ‘Senior Luna’. Though she was sweating coldly and only letting out moans, it was clear that her closed eyelids showed no signs of opening.

This was a situation Ian found hard to comprehend.

Was Alphenhausen’s direct line of descent attacked?

He knew an incident had occurred, but he could never have predicted it would be of such a scale. How could he not think so?

Even for someone ignorant of power, Ian understood.

He realized the impact of the fact that Alphenhausen’s direct line had been attacked at this moment.

Shiene and Luna had been dispatched as representatives of the Empire to investigate the relics associated with the Seven Deadly Sins. Thus, the attack from the previous night meant a challenge not only to Alphenhausen but also to the Imperial Court.

The problem was that suspicion could extend anywhere.

The power held by the relics of the Seven Deadly Sins was indeed limitless.

It wouldn’t be surprising if there were forces wishing to monopolize it. In fact, information about the Dark Cult’s minions infiltrating the depths of various nations had become an open secret.

What if the Holy Kingdom or the Southern Kingdom collaborated with the Dark Cult to attack Alphenhausen?

A cold sweat dampened Ian’s back. It was a situation he could hardly bear.

At the very least, he needed to speak with Reto, the Lady Virgin Saint, or the Imperial Princess. Just as he thought to urgently get up.

Ian’s body froze instantly. Fear flickered on his pale face.

“You finally arrived, you little axe fool… I’ve been so tired waiting for you.”

With a thump.

The blunt end of a staff struck the ground. The appearance of the woman in Ian’s memory was utterly different.

Shiene Alphenhausen.

The usual haughty and poised expression on her face held a faint smile. However, that curve was fierce and sharp enough to provoke instinctive wariness.

But that was merely one of the smallest parts of Shiene’s change.

The most noticeable thing was her utterly broken body.

Although she wore her usual attire, she could not hide her unnatural movements. Her right arm was empty below the shoulder, the sleeve wayward, and her left leg dragged limply behind her.

And then, how about her face?

A bandage wrapped tightly around her right eye oozed with yellowish pus. Alongside the white cloth covering more than half her face, her silver pupil burned like flames.

Filled with hatred and vengeance.

It was a state where she could barely move without her staff. Or was it fortunate that her right arm and left leg had become disabled enough that she could still lean on her staff?

It was an ominous care that was almost palpable.

Ian could only think with a pale face.

Yet the woman wore a twisted smile. Fierce, and hot.

The peak of anger can sometimes become indistinguishable from joy.

“I have something to tell you.”

That was the beginning.

A new season approached, bearing the form of the sick woman.

Whispering despair.

Autumn had come to an end.

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