The system’s warning hit hard, a harsh dose of reality.
Targets of the Hades Core.
The words felt like a death sentence. He’d just marked the only person who’d shown him kindness as a target.
He pulled his hand back from Sarah’s. As if he’d been burned. A sudden, panicked distance opened between them. The fragile connection now felt like a live wire. A conduit for a danger he could not control.
Sarah looked at him. Her smile faltered. Confusion clouded her expression. "Edward? What’s wrong?"
"You need to go," he said, his voice turning hard as the cold mask slipped back on. He couldn’t et her eyes. "Being with isn’t safe."
"Not safe? I’m not afraid of what those bullies might say"
He cut her off, his voice sharper than he ant. He forced himself to et her; his eyes were cold.
"It’s not them — it’s . I’m the danger. Stay away, Sarah. Forget you ever saw tonight."
He turned and walked away before she could reply. He left her kneeling in the dirt. The small parcel of food still clutched in her hand.
Every step felt like walking on broken glass. Pushing her away was a necessary, agonizing form of self-mutilation. He was a walking plague. She was the first person he had to quarantine himself from.
The Core was not just a cruel master. It was a jealous one. It would not allow him attachnts. It would not allow him an anchor.
His retreat to his closet was a flight of grim purpose.
The rumors, he knew, would be worse than ever. The student he had attacked would tell his story. A tale of a demonic, half-beast thing that had tried to murder him in the dark. The story would spread like wildfire. Twisting and mutating.
His public image was about to go from "unstable cheater" to "demonic abomination."
He was right.
By the next afternoon, Sunstone Academy buzzed with fearful whispers. Everyone spoke of the "Beast of the Training Grounds," with wild tales of glowing red eyes, razor claws, and a blood-chilling roar.
It was all true. Which only made it worse.
The academy staff could no longer ignore it. The public duel. The rumors of forbidden arts. The impossible feat in the arena. And now a credible eyewitness account of a monstrous transformation.
It was too much to dismiss. The situation was escalating beyond their control.
In the hallowed office of the Headmaster, a tense eting was taking place. The Headmaster paced nervously. His placid, political deanor was beginning to crack. Before him stood the chief of security and the head combat instructor.
"We cannot find a single record of his abilities," the security chief reported. His face was grim. "His class is not just unranked; it is completely absent from the System’s Public Codex. It’s as if it doesn’t exist. The energy signature from the cursed blade... we’ve cross-referenced it. There is no match."
"And the student he attacked?" the Headmaster asked. His voice was tight.
"He’s in the infirmary," the combat instructor added. "His story is... consistent, if hysterical. He describes a partial, uncontrolled transformation. Scales, claws, fangs.
It sounds like the symptoms of advanced Soul Corruption. But the levels required for that... it would take years. It doesn’t make any sense."
The Headmaster ran a hand over his balding head. "This is a disaster. A student with an unregistered, forbidden power class. A public display of cursed weaponry. A verifiable demonic transformation. If word of this gets out, the Ministry will shut us down."
He was a politician, not a scholar. His primary concern was not Edward’s power. But the scandal it represented.
Edward Ross was no longer just a problem. He was a political liability of the highest order.
As if on cue, a soft knock ca at his office door.
"Enter," the Headmaster called.
The door opened. A figure entered that imdiately silenced the room.
A man dressed in the simple, immaculate white robes of a high-ranking priest. His face was serene. His movents graceful. He carried an aura of quiet, unshakeable authority.
He was an agent of the Holy Inquisition.
"Forgive the intrusion, Headmaster," the priest said. His voice was as smooth and cool as polished marble. "I bring a ssage from the capital."
He produced a small, sealed scroll and handed it to the Headmaster. No royal seal. No ministry stamp. The wax was pure white. Impressed upon it was a single, ominous symbol. A stylized sun with a sword piercing its center. The sigil of the Inquisition’s inner circle.
The Headmaster’s hands trembled as he broke the seal. He unrolled the parchnt. It contained no words.
It was a detailed arcane diagram. A complex rendering of an energy signature. A swirling vortex of black and red energy. A pattern of pure, soul-devouring corruption.
The Headmaster looked up from the scroll. His face was ashen. He knew what he was looking at. It was a perfect match for the energy readings they had taken from the arena. Readings they had quietly buried.
He looked at the priest. A silent, fearful question in his eyes. "Is it... confird?" he asked. His voice was barely a whisper.
The priest gave a slow, solemn nod. His serene expression was unchanging. "Our sensors in the capital detected the energy spike the mont it happened. It was a signature we had hoped never to see again. We have cross-referenced it with our most forbidden archives."
The priest paused. Letting the weight of his words settle.
"His power signature," the priest continued, his voice dropping to a low, chilling tone, "matches that of a Soul Devourer, a forbidden class of heretic we believed to have been hunted to extinction centuries ago."
The last of the blood drained from the Headmaster’s face.
A Soul Devourer. The na itself was a curse. A legend whispered to frighten novice hunters. A fairy tale of monsters that could consu the very essence of their victims.
"An official examiner is already on their way," the priest concluded. His duty was done. "He will arrive within the day to confirm the diagnosis and... prescribe the appropriate treatnt."
The priest gave a shallow, polite bow. He departed as silently as he had arrived.
He left the three n in the office frozen in a state of dawning, absolute horror. The problem of Edward Ross had just been taken out of their hands.
The Inquisition was coming.
And the Inquisition did not conduct investigations. They conducted purges.
Reviews
All reviews (0)