The fighting didn't stop. A few of them glanced in my direction, but none paused—they just kept fighting on their own accord.
"Are they blind?" I muttered under my breath.
"No. That would be because of me," came a voice beside me.
Startled, I turned just in time to see a head slowly emerge from a pool of black liquid at my feet.
"By the Emperor!" I stumbled back, hand reflexively going to my weapon. "Reinhardt, for the last time—don't do that! One of these days, I will shoot you if you keep sneaking up on me like that."
"Sorry," Reinhardt said with a small laugh, rising effortlessly from the inky pool as it slithered off his body. "It's just so much fun to scare you."
The slick black substance peeled away from his form, revealing his unmistakable silhouette—slim yet imposing. Reinhardt had stylish blond hair that swept back just enough to suggest elegance without effort. His crimson eyes shone with amusement, standing out against his light skin.
Unlike the standard green combat suits the rest of our squad wore, Reinhardt—like me—opted for something more refined. He was clad in a tailored three-piece black suit, the inner shirt a deep blood-red that echoed the colour of his eyes. A thin black tie lay neatly down the center, tucked between the sharp lapels of his jacket. His gloved hands flexed casually at his sides, and his boots—sleek, black, and only loosely laced—completed the ensemble.
"I thought you were supposed to be helping John," I said, my tone firm and serious.
"Well… I was going to," Reinhardt replied with a sheepish smile. "But then he insisted he could handle it on his own, so I didn't interfere." He gestured lazily with one hand. "I didn't leave though—just in case. Should I stop them now?"
"Yeah, it's getting late. Stop them before we get pulled out," I said, then added pointedly, "Don't kill anyone."
"Understood."
Without taking a single step from where he stood, Reinhardt raised his hand slightly. In an instant, several cadets froze mid-motion, lifted from the ground by invisible forces. They thrashed in the air, held tight by Reinhardt's telekinesis, their limbs pinned as if by unseen chains. The abrupt halt in the chaos left John blinking in confusion.
"Hey! These were—oh!" He paused mid-protest, nostrils flaring slightly. "Young Master, I didn't smell you there. When did you get here?"
"I've been here a while," I said calmly.
Realisation dawning, John quickly moved aside the suspended cadets, gently lowering them to the ground before walking over to join us.
"Dude, you might as well bring down the entire outpost with that weight of yours. Is it really that hard to transform back?" Reinhardt remarked as the ground trembled beneath John's heavy steps, each one sending a subtle shudder through the foundation of the outpost.
"At least I have weight," John shot back, his deep voice carrying a hint of smugness.
"Hey… don't insult him like that," I interjected before things could escalate further. "He's a demon. He can't help it."
"A rebel," Reinhardt corrected, placing a hand over his chest with mock dignity. "Please don't compare me to those black-eyed wastes of space, Young Master."
I rubbed my temple and let out a tired sigh. "...If either of you says one more word, I'm cancelling your holiday this month."
That shut them up. Both turned away from each other like sulking children, grumbling under their breath but wisely keeping it inaudible.
"As you might have heard, Cooper is dead… presumably," I said, my voice steady but low. "So I need the two of you to do something before the exam ends."
I tossed an exam bracelet toward Reinhardt. He caught it smoothly with his right hand, glancing down at it as I continued.
"There's a troll—south of the point where I made contact with you all the second time. Wally will mark the exact location in your Codex. Find them. Give them this bracelet and offer them a chance to join us. I don't care how you convince them, but whoever manages to bring them in gets the privilege of disciplining them."
Both of them paused, their expressions tightening slightly at the mention of Cooper's death. Sadness flickered across their faces, brief but genuine—then, as quickly as it appeared, it was tucked away. Composure returned.
Demons were not built to feel grief. They didn't form attachments to mortals. But Demonic Rebels were different. The moment they turned their backs on the Demon Emperor and stepped into the light of the true Emperor, they gained what ordinary demons lacked: the capacity to feel.
They were, in essence, the inverse of heretics—those who had abandoned the Emperor's light. Demonic Rebels had done the opposite: they had left the darkness behind and walked into the light.
"It will be done, Young Master," Reinhardt said with a respectful nod.
A pool of black liquid rippled into existence beneath their feet. Without hesitation, both he and John sank into it, the surface swallowing them whole before fading away like it had never been there.
"Is it wise to send just the two of them?" Moriarty asked, his soul form materializing beside me now that the room was empty.
"Well," I began, hands slipping into my pockets, "Reinhardt's Path is a perfect counter to the troll's abilities, and John's body can't be harmed by those low-rank spectral entities. And sure, they argue constantly—but when it matters, they work well together."
"I wasn't referring to their combat ability," Moriarty said flatly. "I meant their mental state."
I paused, sighing softly. "...Then I suppose I should send Risa too, just to be safe."
With that, I turned and headed out of the basement, the silence of the room settling behind me.
"…Oh, wait a second."
I stopped mid-step, turned back toward the cadets scattered across the ground, and activated my ability. My eyes gleamed with a glint of green as I siphoned just enough points from the unconscious students to ensure they could barely scrape through the exam.
"That should give me about three minutes before I'm forcibly pulled out," I muttered.
Without wasting another second, I bolted out of the outpost and quickly deactivated my ability before turning to explain the situation to Risa.
She listened intently until I finished. Then, with a small tilt of her head, she asked, "Do I also get to discipline them if I'm the one who recruits them?"
I blinked. "That wasn't the point—" I sighed, rubbing my temple. "…Fine. Sure. Just go now or you'll miss your chance."
Her face lit up slightly at my answer, and without another word, she took off in the opposite direction.
I waited patiently for the timer to run out. Tom had probably been pulled out already—unlike me, he hadn't given away his points.
As the time limit expired, a spark of blue light shimmered around my vessel. In the blink of an eye, my surroundings shifted, and I found myself in a dark, quiet room.
A table sat at the center, two chairs facing each other. In one of them sat Thomas—though at first glance, he looked exactly like Dad. From the formal attire down to the long hair tied at the back of his head… it was uncanny. A haunting imitation of how Dad used to look all those years ago.
"You know, you both would make excellent actors, Uncle," I said, pulling the opposite chair back and settling into it.
"What gave it away?" Uncle asked with a warm smile.
I leaned back slightly. "Dad doesn't tap his arm in that rhythm. And besides, it's obvious he wouldn't be here. This—" I gestured vaguely around us "—is a pointless attempt to scare me."
"It was worth a try," he chuckled, brushing it off with ease, though I could see the sadness behind his eyes.
After the main phase of the exam, the cadets are pulled into a second round of evaluation—one final assessment to gauge their capabilities before official admission into the academy.
But for the heirs of the Major Families, the League of Hunters, or the Extraterrestrial Alliance, the process is handled differently. Because of our elevated combat rankings and societal status, we're given a brief window to meet our families before entering academy life.
"I kept an eye on you throughout the exam and…" Uncle's voice carried a note of disapproval. "I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed that you traumatized that Issac child. You should've treated her better."
"'Good?'" I echoed with a scoff. "There's no place for that here. And for the record, she started the fight."
"Still," Uncle said with a sigh. "Try to make friends where you can—and maybe cause a little less trouble than you did at the end."
He paused, then added under his breath, "Even if it was the Silverheart kid… and he probably deserved it."
"So, how are things with the war?" I asked, steering the conversation in a different direction.
Uncle let out a tired sigh. "Some of the stationary troops we deployed on a frontline planet were wiped out by heretics. At this rate, we might not even have fifteen years before the Demons launch a full-scale strike."
"…I see," I replied quietly, unsure how to respond.
"But never mind that," he said, waving a hand as if brushing away the looming dread. "It'll take them a long time to reach a Training Planet like Earth. So don't worry about such things."
He smiled—genuinely, if a little forced. "You should enjoy yourself while you still can. The academy may be intense, but it's also the best place to live a little—to taste freedom before the world asks too much of you."
"…You're right." I nodded, letting the silence settle for a moment. "That aside, I should probably head out now. Take care of everyone—and please tell Dad not to touch my diary. He'll probably start testing all the formulas I haven't even tried yet."
Uncle rose from his seat with a soft chuckle. "I can't guarantee he'll listen, but I'll deliver the message."
He stepped forward and pulled me into a warm embrace.
"Be safe."
I returned the hug—stiffly, reluctantly. "…Just because I'm letting you hug me doesn't mean I'm a hugging person now."
Uncle chuckled again, a genuine laugh that lingered in the quiet room as we parted ways.