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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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Chapter 112 - Prophet (2)
—I’m sorry.
A voice pierced through the heavy silence, whispering softly into the ear.
How many times had he seen this scene?
In the Prophet’s vision, a blurry landscape flickered faintly—
A sky dyed crimson, academy buildings reduced to rubble with no trace of their former glory, corpses piled like dust among the scattered remains.
A world on the brink of ruin.
—In the end… we couldn’t stop the apocalypse.
A boy standing beside him muttered quietly.
He was a mess, too.
What was once a neat, formal uniform hung in tatters, and his golden hair—once gleaming—was matted with blood.
His trademark eyes, always narrowed into slits, were now wide open, pupils dilated with exhaustion.
—Dean.
The boy’s weary voice called out to the Prophet.
His legs trembled, faltering for a moment before he managed to steady himself.
Turning to face the old man, he forced a bitter smile to his lips.
Darkness crept across his face, like a shadow signaling the inevitable farewell.
Blood dripped from his lips as they parted.
—There’s still one move left.
His trembling finger pointed toward the sky.
Beyond the crimson backdrop, the final [Calamity] revealed itself, peering down upon the broken world.
The boy spoke.
—From here on, I’ll go alone. It’s the only way left to protect this world.
A sentence carved from sacrifice.
The Prophet couldn’t stop him.
All he could do was ask softly,
What should I tell the children who remain?
The boy smiled faintly.
—Well… whatever the circumstances, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a traitor.
I don’t intend to leave any excuses behind.
It’d only complicate things unnecessarily.
I’ve decided to let go of my worries about them.
They’re strong. I’m sure they’ll find a way to move on.
An ending no one would acknowledge.
The boy carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
As he passed the Prophet, only the sound of cold wind echoed in his wake.
And over that lonely melody, the boy murmured,
—Dean… I entrust you with a different future.
Step. Step.
Leaving behind a request the Prophet couldn’t understand, the boy walked toward the heart of the approaching storm.
The Prophet could only watch his retreating figure.
He reached out, instinctively, but the distance was too great.
The boy vanished before he could ever be touched.
In the empty space left behind, only winter remained.
Whoooooosh—
The old man stood there for a long, long time.
It was a dream—
One painfully vivid.
* * *
A suffocating silence filled the room.
I held my breath, ever so slightly.
My fingers absentmindedly toyed with the teacup in front of me as my gaze drifted toward the Dean seated across from me.
The old man, his hair white as snow, sat composed and unshaken amidst the stillness.
Only the faint sound of breathing echoed between us.
"……"
"……"
Neither of us spoke hastily.
A fragile tension lingered in the air.
The Dean seemed lost in thought, his unfocused eyes staring blankly into the void.
There was a faint, inexplicable melancholy in his calm gaze.
‘So quiet.’
I muttered inwardly.
We’d exchanged such weighty greetings, yet not a single word had followed.
Instead, the Serpent and the old man simply continued their silent tea ceremony.
Of course—
This silence was well within my expectations.
It made sense for him to be cautious.
Even if he’d shown a willingness to talk, there was a high chance he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions I truly wanted to ask.
Because of the [Restriction] placed upon him by the world itself.
I recalled the details from the original story.
Gaston Galimard.
The Dean who had led the academy for decades.
A transcendent being blessed with the mysterious ability to glimpse into the future from the moment he was born.
The world had given him a title—
[Prophet of the Apocalypse].
But titles are shaped by those who speak them.
Despite having both a distinguished name and an ominous epithet, players of the original game referred to him by a different title altogether—
‘The Most Useless Prophet.’
I recalled a few forum posts from back then:
[Category: Q&A Board]
[Title: So… what’s the Dean’s actual role in the story?]
Newbie here, currently on my 5th playthrough.
But honestly, every time this old guy shows up, I have no clue what he’s supposed to be doing.
Isn’t he just an extra at this point?
I mean, he’s the head of the academy, right? But he barely even shows up.
Doesn’t matter if the academy’s under attack or whatever—
You’ll NEVER see this dude doing anything useful.
Even professors like Cadel and Selena get more screen time.
Sure, the game mentions he’s super strong…
But like, SHOW us something, damn it.
All I’ve seen is an old man sipping tea 24/7.
Honestly, the other professors feel way more impactful.
Also—
What’s up with the whole "Prophet" thing? Is that ever explained??
[He’s just a trash character, lol]
→ "Who even names someone Gaston, lmao."
→ "Wait, that’s it? No big reveal? Nothing?"
[Nobody really knows what the Prophet thing is about]
→ "Don’t lump me in with you—we don’t ALL not know."
→ "Okay, so you know then?"
→ "…No."
→ "Bruh."
[Category: General Discussion]
[Title: If the Emperor’s the worst personality-wise…]
…the Dean’s the most useless.
Dude does NOTHING.
Yet somehow the game keeps hyping him up like he’s super important—
"Prophet of the Apocalypse" or whatever.
I thought maybe he’d do something cool later on,
but nope.
Literally zero help to anyone.
Apparently, there’s some "world-imposed restriction" on him.
Because of that, he can’t give any proper answers when you ask him stuff.
Even if you burn through a legendary item to talk to him, all you get are a few cryptic lines that don’t even make sense.
If you’re gonna make a character who can’t even speak properly, why bother giving him a Prophet role at all?
I don’t get what the devs were thinking with this one.
If the Emperor’s trash because of his personality, the Dean’s trash because his entire character is pointless.
[This is what "Future Sight" really looks like, huh?]
→ "Lmao, all he does is ‘know the future.’"
[I’m new here, what does being the Prophet even mean?]
→ "Literally just means he can see the future, thanks to some transcendent ‘law.’"
→ "??? That sounds OP, but he’s useless?"
→ "Yeah, he’s under a Restriction."
→ "A what?"
→ "Think of it as the price of his power."
[So what’s the Dean’s Restriction?]
→ "He can’t interfere with the future he’s seen. If he tries to reveal it or alter fate, the world’s karma will crush him, erasing his very existence."
→ "Wow. That’s garbage."
→ "No wonder people call him useless, lol."
→ "What’s the point of seeing the future if you can’t do or say anything about it??"
→ "Well… he DID see the future. Cheers to that, I guess."
[The game’s hidden ending hasn’t been found yet, though. The devs hinted that the Dean might play a key role in it.]
→ "That’s probably the most plausible theory."
→ "Speaking of which, has anyone even found that hidden ending yet?"
→ "Nope, not that I’ve heard."
→ "Even the guide writers are clueless."
→ "If THEY can’t find it, maybe it doesn’t even exist, lol."
As you can see—
The old man sitting before me wasn’t silent by choice.
He simply had no other option.
If he dared to reveal even a sliver of the future, the backlash from the Restriction would surely tear his fragile body apart.
It could cost the academy one of its most symbolic figures—
All for a few careless words.
A price too heavy to bear.
Of course—
It wasn’t like there were no workarounds.
There’s always a loophole.
"Dean."
It was the same in the original game.
The Prophet of the Apocalypse.
Normally, no matter what you asked him, you’d get nothing.
But there was a way—
A method to bypass the Restriction, if only for a moment.
By offering a mythical item as a sacrifice.
The principle was simple.
The Restriction was the world’s warning not to defy its laws.
Break it, and you’d have to pay an appropriate price.
For the Dean, that price was severe—
The erasure of his very existence.
That’s why he couldn’t reveal his prophecies.
But what if you redirected the cost elsewhere?
"I’m already aware of the Restriction."
Shift the burden.
Specifically, transfer the penalty for breaking the Restriction onto something—or someone—else.
That "proxy" would be the [Divine Relic].
Known as "mythical items" in the game, these relics were fragments of the world itself, imbued with sacred power since the dawn of the continent.
They were the rarest of rare items.
‘No wonder they were so valuable.’
With enough "weight" to shoulder the penalty, handing one of these relics to the Dean would allow him to partially shrug off the Restriction—just long enough to answer a few questions.
Of course—
Players didn’t exactly love this mechanic.
Many felt it was a waste of such precious items.
After all, Divine Relics had drop rates so abysmal you’d be lucky to get one after a hundred playthroughs.
Spending them just for a brief, cryptic conversation?
Hardly worth it.
And once used, the item vanished permanently—no recovery possible.
Not to mention, the "revelations" he provided were often vague riddles rather than clear answers.
Understandable, then, why most players preferred to use their relics elsewhere.
‘But.’
For me—
It was different.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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