episode_0077

“Really, if it was going to be like this, it would’ve been better to give it to someone more reliable. Someone whose power no one would ever doubt.”

Half of it was said in jest, but the other half was genuine. If the goal was truly to save this world somehow, there were far more plausible choices than someone like me. Of course, whoever sent me to this world likely did so to torment me, so this was inevitable.

“What are you talking about, Eric! How could we ever not believe in you?”

“No, Cecília. That’s not what Eric means. He’s not talking about us now.”

“Are you referring to what happened in the first semester?”

“About how we behaved back then… I have nothing to say. We spouted such nonsense without even understanding the suffering of a prophet.”

“Even before that, it’s not like we showed much respect toward him, right?”

At Cris’s blunt words, Lucella silently bowed her head. Seeing that, I smiled faintly in satisfaction.

Good. Now they won’t casually pry into my prophetic power anymore.

Beyond what’s necessary, they’d demand extra prophecies to dig into my abilities and memories. And if my prophecy contradicted their expectations or memories, they’d openly oppose it. But now, none of them would dare act on such doubts.

Why?

Because I’m bleeding for these prophecies. Anyone who wouldn’t believe this much is practically inhuman. No—actually, if someone were that stubborn, I’d have kicked them out without hesitation.

The guilt they feel toward me is my greatest weapon, the only leash I have to control them.

“Cough…”

“Eric? Ah! There’s—”

“I told you not to worry… The coughing blood has already stopped.”

“Just sit still! The coughing stopped, but the bleeding hasn’t completely healed, has it? Your body might still be injured…”

Without my permission, Cecília quickly ran her divine energy over my body.

“Huh?”

She finished scanning me in an instant, tilting her head in confusion. Of course—there wouldn’t be anything wrong with my body.

“See? I told you I’m fine. Stop worrying and back off.”

“No… But not only is Eric’s body unharmed, his mana is also—”

“Not distorted? Unlike other prophets?”

Cecília nodded blankly. Fortunately, she seemed too focused on checking my condition to notice anything suspicious yet.

“If it were that easy, my prophecies wouldn’t carry much weight either. Not to belittle other prophets, but… my prophecies operate on a completely different level, don’t they?”

“So… the Goddess personally took measures to stabilize your body?”

“Exactly.”

I tapped my chest a couple of times.

“Cecília may have just read my mana, but that’s not a skill unique to her, right? Anyone with a bit of talent can use it—priests, newly enrolled academy students, even demons.”

“Ah!”

Everyone froze at my words.

“No way… Then just how isolated has your path been…?”

“If I weren’t, how could I survive? Dying at the hands of a human is still hundreds of times better than dying at the hands of a demon.”

Of course, the Goddess has been entirely hands-off with my current life. She offers no help, and I expect nothing from her. She’s likely too busy scattering all sorts of opportunities for the hero party opposing the Demon King.

I’m not completely heartless, so I’ll gather and make use of the opportunities she’s left lying around.

Though I am shamelessly exploiting her name again to do so.

“So you torment him to protect him? That’s absurd.”

“It’s easier to shield a mad noble than someone who sees the future, who foresees the war between demons and mankind. If humans reject my prophecies, it’s far better to prevent anyone from hearing them at all.”

“B-but why the coughing blood? You prophesied just now, and we chose to listen! So why are you still—”

“Because the danger this world poses to me has increased. The more people who know my prophecies are genuine, the higher the chance demons will target me in some way.”

“The Goddess would gamble like that?”

“To her, my life is just another expendable resource. Besides, I wasn’t exactly a fervent believer anyway. Had I known it’d come to this, I should’ve listened when Cecília told me to visit the church more.”

“That’s not the issue, Eric…”

“It’s a joke.”

I was a little impressed with how convincing it sounded. This explanation neatly covered why I was ignored, why I kept trying to deliver prophecies regardless, the nature of my suffering, and finally, why I couldn’t disclose details about my prophecies.

“So summarizing…”

“Elia?”

“Stay still. We need to clarify the situation. Only then will we know how to proceed—and…”

Elia fixed her gaze on me.

“How we should treat Eric from now on.”

“That’s true. I agree with Elia.”

Lucella smoothly pulled out a chair from the table.

“Take a seat, Eric. You understand the importance of this conversation, don’t you?”

“Huh? I’ve already said enough. I don’t want to waste any more time here.”

“Waste time? Do you not grasp how critical your existence is? Or should I take that to mean you’re leaving everything—from start to finish—entirely up to us?”

“Uh… That’s not what I meant?”

“Of course, if you wish it, I can arrange it immediately. Just give the order, and I’ll escort you to a safe location at once. No—in fact, that might be preferable. One of the four of us will remain by your side at all times.”

“I agree.”

“Cris?”

“If we don’t fully understand the nature of Eric’s prophecies, we must use every possible method to protect him—even if it means slightly restricting his freedom.”

“The palace has plenty of unused spaces. Even the custodians don’t know them all. Hiding one person there would be trivial… especially if the Crown Princess herself is involved.”

“No, no, no. Fine, I’ll sit. Just don’t go that far.”

I hurriedly dropped into the chair Lucella offered. Lucella and Elia aren’t the type to bluff—if I tried to run now, they’d probably tie me up somewhere.

‘We don’t need prophecies, just stay safe.’ Sadly, I don’t have the luxury to enjoy a sheltered life now. At best, I’ve got three years left—you think I’d willingly agree to that madness?

“Now, explain briefly if you must. Your prophecies are a direct blessing from the Goddess, and thus come with severe backlash. Correct?”

“Right.”

I spread my bloodstained hand for all to see.

“My prophecies aren’t like those of other seers—mine are the Goddess’s direct mandate. Unlike theirs, which can be vague, temporary, or limited in scope, my prophecies concern only two things: the Demon King and the hero. I can’t predict tomorrow’s fortunes or the fates of individuals.”

“Then Eric isn’t bound by the prohibitions other prophets face?”

“Prohibitions? Ah, the one about not prophesying your own future? Doesn’t apply. No—I physically can’t do it. Not that I envy them.”

If you had the power to foresee the future, wouldn’t you be tempted to know your own? It’s a childhood fantasy—knowing lottery numbers, exam answers, that kind of naive dreaming.

People in this world were no exception. If anything, living closer to death made them even more desperate to know their futures, and those with prophetic powers rarely resisted the urge.

Could you stay ignorant if you had the chance to know? Anyone who could resist that temptation could achieve greatness even without prophetic gifts.