"Ah… ugh, argh!"
A man groaned through his swollen lips.
I stared down at him coldly, pressing the tip of my sword just beside his eye.
"Aren't you going to answer?"
He stayed silent.
"Well, if that's the case... we'll start with the most useless thing first. Your eyes."
"I-I'll talk! I'll talk, just—please stop!"
He sobbed, desperation overtaking him.
"Good. Then speak."
"The question you asked before… about… uh…"
He trailed off, head drooping as if trying to recall what happened before I'd beaten the clarity out of him.
Then—
Whoooom!
A black aura exploded from his chest.
"You were asking how I wanted you to kill me, right?!"
The man who had been slumped over suddenly snapped up like a sprung trap. Twin scythes shimmered into his hands, both cloaked in a writhing black aura. He swung his arms out, crossing them like wings, and the scythes tore toward me.
"You must've taken too many hits—you're getting forgetful," I muttered, smirking.
He lunged.
But I was already moving.
'Point Pressure'—a technique that suppresses foes with weak mana.
I knew from the start I didn't have the raw power to restrain a demon for long.
But that didn't mean I couldn't beat him.
"All right," I said, sidestepping. "Let me ask again. Listen carefully this time."
Sun Sword.
First Form — Initial Eclipse.
A vertical arc, a rising slash from an impossible angle.
My blade slipped through the gap between his savage swings and carved open his chest.
Flesh split. Blood sprayed.
"Guh… ah…"
He staggered, clutching the wound as blood gushed out.
Clang.
The scythes clattered to the ground.
"Wh-who are you…?"
"I said I'm the one asking questions."
Crack.
My boot shattered his kneecap. A howl echoed through the cave.
"What was a demon like you doing here?"
"Ahhh—!"
"Now… what did I say was the most useless thing earlier?"
"I—I was just following orders!"
"Whose?"
The man flinched, avoiding my gaze. His lips trembled as if he wanted to answer.
Then—
"Ggh—urk! Kah…!"
He convulsed, clawing at his chest.
Bloodshot eyes bulged. Veins surfaced on his face like twisted roots.
"Damn it," I muttered, reaching for him. "It's a curse."
His body seized violently, foam bubbling at his mouth.
Too late.
The light had already vanished from his eyes.
A high-level curse. Not the kind that triggers on keywords or forced confession—but one that activated the moment he intended to betray them.
I stood, silent.
"Who the hell are these guys?"
He mentioned a "priest." That pointed to the Demon Church.
But the Church was fragmented—factions within factions, all decentralized and scattered.
I crouched and retrieved the strange black object he carried—a nail, obsidian and etched with faint red veins.
It pulsed faintly with residual energy.
'This thing's interacting with the ley lines…'
The cave's ley lines were strong—strong enough to support the growth of Seven Star Grass, rare even among alchemists.
He'd driven this into the rock and channeled demonic energy through it.
But what was it doing?
'Is this what weakened the Demon God's seal in my past life?'
No. That couldn't be.
If driving one nail could affect the seal, it would've broken long ago. Even hundreds wouldn't be enough to compromise it directly.
'Then what's the purpose?'
I stared at the corpse, lost in thought.
Step. Step.
Footsteps echoed deeper in the cave.
I froze, senses sharpening as I spread mana through my body.
Four.
They weren't hiding their presence.
'Reinforcements. Probably the ones who gave him his orders.'
But if there were four here, then…
'There must be more elsewhere. The school's been infiltrated.'
And if they were bold enough to send operatives into the academy, they weren't some fringe cult.
Even if I captured these four, they'd be cursed too.
I needed a new approach.
My eyes drifted to the twin scythes on the ground.
An idea formed.
"Aha."
So there was a way after all.
I picked up one of the scythes and turned to the corpse.
Thud.
I beheaded him cleanly.
'Let's make it look like he died in battle. That way they won't suspect betrayal.'
I grinned.
Then, without hesitation—
Shlk.
—I plunged the scythe into my own abdomen.
"How long has it been since we lost contact with Husk?"
Four robed men walked briskly through the cave. The one in front had blood-red hair, a gruesome burn across his left cheek, and glowing crimson eyes that seemed to pierce through shadows.
"It's… it's been about thirty minutes."
"I gave explicit orders. No fewer than two when placing a nail," the red-haired man growled.
"I-I'm sorry, Priest Calyx!"
The three subordinates behind him bowed their heads in fear.
Calyx clicked his tongue and turned forward.
"…We'll discuss your punishment later."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
First, find Husk. Then bury the mistake.
As they entered the chamber, they found two things.
Husk's decapitated corpse.
And a student, barely conscious, bleeding heavily from the stomach.
"A cadet?"
Calyx narrowed his eyes. "At this hour?"
"There wasn't any outdoor training scheduled today!" one of the demons stammered.
Meaning this student came here with special permission.
"Tch. This complicates things."
Calyx crouched beside the scene, surveying the bloodstains and scorch marks.
He quickly pieced it together.
'The cadet must've encountered Husk. They fought. Husk lost.'
It was pathetic. Even for a low-ranking monk like Husk, losing to an unsanctioned hero cadet was disgraceful.
'And now the plan's compromised.'
Calyx clenched his fists.
If word got out…
The Demon Church didn't tolerate failure.
"What should we do with the cadet?" a subordinate asked. "He won't survive long with that injury."
Calyx looked at the boy, gasping for breath, eyes fluttering open and shut.
"Kill him."
"What? But…!"
"If he dies, the professors will investigate."
"Then why not heal him? Threaten him into silence?"
Calyx gave a cold smile.
"Silence him?"
Fools.
"You trust the living too much."
Black mana swirled around his hand.
Whooooom.
It coalesced into a spear.
Then—
Thud.
The black spear pierced the cadet's heart.
"Urgh…"
The gray-haired boy convulsed once, then fell still.
"Dispose of the body."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The subordinates scrambled to lift the corpse.
Calyx watched them go, expression unreadable.
"If you want to survive in this world," he murmured, "remember this…"
He turned, cloak swaying behind him.
"The only thing you can trust—"
"—is the dead."
"Ah... ugh, argh!"
A man groaned through split, swollen lips.
I stared down at him coldly, the tip of my sword resting gently—almost lovingly—at the corner of his eye.
"Aren't you going to answer?"
No reply.
"Well then... I suppose we'll start with the most useless part first—your eyes."
"I-I'll talk! I'll talk! Just, please—stop...!"
He begged, choking on fear and blood.
"Is that so?" I said, my tone flat. "Then let's hear it."
"The... the question you asked earlier... um..."
He lowered his head, as if grasping at fleeting fragments of memory that had been pounded loose. He trembled, the effort of recall battling his dread.
Then—
Woooong!
A surge of black aura erupted from his left chest.
"You were asking how I wanted you to kill me, right?!"
The man shot up like a spring. His arms crossed before him in a practiced movement, and in a blink, two blackened scythes materialized in his hands.
He unfurled his arms like wings. The scythes sliced through the air with cruel precision, humming with malevolent energy.
"You must've gotten so beaten your memory's fuzzy, huh?" he sneered, mistaking my silence for hesitation.
I took a step back, smiling.
Point Pressure—a technique best used to subdue opponents with weaker mana reserves. I already knew it wouldn't hold a demon for long with my meager mana. But that didn't mean I couldn't handle him.
"Alright. I'll ask you again. This time, listen carefully."
Sun Sword.First Form – Initial Eclipse.
A rising slash from a blind angle—fluid, brutal, unstoppable.
My blade danced through the air like flame through parchment, weaving past his erratic scythe swings. It cut clean across his chest.
Slash!
Flesh tore. Blood followed in a red arc.
"Guh...!"
He collapsed, pressing pale fingers to the gash blooming red across his chest.
Clang.
His scythes fell to the cave floor, ringing out like bells of defeat.
"Wh-who are you...?" he croaked.
"I said," I answered, stomping on his knee with a sickening crack, "I'm the one asking questions."
He screamed in agony, echoing off damp stone walls.
"What was a demon like you doing here?"
"I... I was just following orders!"
"Whose orders?"
"That..." He flinched, eyes flicking away, lips trembling.
And then—
"Argh... kah! Guh, cough!"
He convulsed violently, clawing at his chest. His eyes bulged. Black veins spiderwebbed across his face, grotesque and unnatural.
"A curse."
I reached for him—but it was already too late.
Tsk.
The light had fled his eyes.
A high-level curse. Not one triggered by words or actions—but by intent. The moment he intended to speak, the spell snuffed out his life.
"Hell of a leash."
He'd mentioned a "priest."
The Demon Church.
It fit.
But the Church wasn't a single entity—it was a many-headed beast. Fractured into cults, cells, and factions. This man's death only deepened the mystery.
I glanced at the strange, black nail he had been driving into the wall.
It shimmered faintly with demonic energy, anchored like a tumor in the ley line-rich rock.
'It's designed to affect the ley lines somehow…'
This cave—strong enough in mana flow to nurture Seven Star Grass—wasn't chosen at random.
But something about it still didn't add up.
'It can't be enough to weaken the Demon God's seal. Not this alone.'
Even a hundred of these cursed nails wouldn't be sufficient. Not without a larger, coordinated ritual.
That meant one thing:
This was a piece of a much bigger puzzle.
I reached for the corpse—then froze.
Step, step.
Faint footsteps echoed from deeper in the cave.
I spread my magic thin through my limbs, enhancing my senses.
'Three… no, four. Closing in fast.'
The ones who gave him his orders.
'They're coming to check on him.'
They wouldn't be the only ones embedded in the Academy. This cell was likely just one limb of something far bigger.
'And thanks to the curse, I can't extract information by force.'
I needed another plan.
My eyes dropped to the discarded scythes.
And then, a spark.
Ah.
There was a way after all.
I picked up the scythe and turned toward the corpse.
"They won't believe he died to a curse."
I beheaded him.
Blood pooled at my feet. A fitting stage.
Then, with a deep breath—
Thud.
I plunged the scythe into my own abdomen.
Pain surged like wildfire. My knees buckled.
As darkness crept in, I let my body fall, blood gushing freely.
Let them think I was just a lucky candidate who stumbled into the wrong cave... and died.
Meanwhile...
"How long since we lost contact with Husk?"
Four robed figures stood in the shadows. The leader stepped forward, a man with blood-red hair and a hideous burn scar running down his cheek.
"Th-thirty minutes," a cultist answered, head bowed.
Priest Calyx narrowed his glowing red eyes. His voice chilled the air.
"I gave a direct order: never work alone."
"I—I'm sorry, Priest Calyx!"
Calyx exhaled through his nose, cold fury simmering behind his burned visage.
"We'll deal with that later."
He turned, robes sweeping like black wings.
"Find him."
The four slipped into the cave, treading like shadows.
When they arrived at the designated ritual site, they found exactly what they feared.
"A…ugh, please… save… me…"
A young cadet, gray-haired and gasping. Beside him, Husk's decapitated body.
Calyx's frown deepened.
"No training was scheduled today."
"That's… right, Priest Calyx," a subordinate stammered. "The area should've been deserted!"
Then the student must've had permission. A professor, perhaps?
Calyx's mind raced. The timeline. The protocols. The implications.
'So... someone unexpected disrupted the ritual. Someone not part of the schedule.'
His cold gaze fell on Husk's corpse.
'How disappointing.'
Even for a low-ranking monk, being taken down by a mere cadet—unforgivable.
'The plan was timed precisely to avoid attention… and this candidate ruined everything.'
If he found out, Calyx wouldn't be forgiven either.
No matter what.
"What should we do with him?" a cultist asked, glancing at the half-conscious Dale. "He's bleeding out."
Calyx's lips twisted.
"Kill him."
"But—!"
"If he dies, the professors will intervene—"
"Silence," Calyx snapped. "You think we can afford to trust the living?"
Black energy gathered at his chest, coalescing into a spear.
Wooom.
In the next breath, he hurled it.
Thud!
It pierced the student's heart.
The gray-haired cadet let out a final groan, blood trailing from his lips.
"Dispose of the body."
"Y-yes, sir!"
As his men moved to carry the corpse, Calyx muttered:
"If you want to survive, remember this—"
He turned.
"Only the dead can be trusted."