Despite Lily’s claim that her injuries were minor, Aiwas used a brief mont to heal her with Illumination Art, expending nearly two mana points—a significant amount for an ordinary person’s vitality.
Her injuries likely involved bones or organs, but her high pain tolerance masked their severity. His tily healing prevented further deterioration.
Unlike the previous poisoning at the White Slipper Club, this incident saw professional and prompt treatnt for physical injuries by priests.
It couldn’t be called a “White Slipper Tragedy”—only one person died: the sacrificial vessel, a middle-aged man whose body, like a cocoon, “hatched” the Distorted Limb Demon, summoning it from outside Glass Island to its contractor.
Normally, recalling a contracted demon required a large ritual, not a snap of the fingers. Otherwise, demon scholars wouldn’t carry demons, leaving them in safe hideouts.
Like the Iron Hook Demon’s scholar, who stayed in his ritual site, this scholar couldn’t perform a large ritual in the club, so he used a sacrifice.
The “sacrificial man” consud the demon’s flesh, inscribed with runes, turning his body into a temple to complete the ritual internally—explaining how the larger demon erged from him.
Whether manipulated, deceived, or coerced, he remained silent, aiding the scholars’ infiltration and summoning the demon with his life, earning partial bla.
Thus, he wasn’t counted as a “victim.”
Excluding him, the incident saw a miraculous zero casualties!
The swift resolution ensured tily treatnt for the demon’s victims, saving all inspectors and supervisors.
Facing an upper-tier demon, banishing it without harm to Princess Isabel, officials, rchants, clergy, or second-floor civilians, with no official superhuman fleeing in fear or dying, and killing a fourth-tier demon scholar while capturing a second-tier apprentice—this was an undeniable triumph. Avalon hadn’t seen such a victory in ages.
For the next half-month, perhaps a month, newspapers would buzz with the story.
Aiwas’s title would shift from “detective” to “hero.”
He was a true hero.
Without his holy sword wounding the demon, the scholar’s control wouldn’t have faltered; Gordon might have died, others could’ve followed, and even if the scholar was stopped, the demon might have killed more before banishnt.
Isabel was elated, practically bubbling, though she held back her words.
Only her inability to attend external banquets stopped her from joining the afterparty.
Witnesses were electrified, their joy in the perfect victory overshadowing fear.
The post-ceremony banquet proceeded, swelling with attendees, including those previously unconnected to Aiwas, who now chatted eagerly with him.
Aiwas drank heavily, even joking to Angela to request leave for him if he overslept.
He implied he was drunk and might not rise tomorrow but would return to his dorm, not take leave to go ho.
Chloe, lurking in the shadows, heard this clearly.
Aiwas had sensed her but didn’t expose her. Surrounded by alert high-tier superhumans, Chloe wouldn’t strike without certainty.
But as the saying goes, “Don’t fear a thief stealing; fear them scheming.”
Aiwas planned to create a perfect vulnerability to lure her assassination attempt.
Another reason Chloe didn’t strike was her greed.
[Why hate Aiwas, unrelated to my mission? Because his words exposed , costing my hard-earned life-saving tools!]
Her dangerous work relied on those tools—essentially extra lives. Losing several fueled her revenge.
But Aiwas’s holy sword, the “Red-Hilted Sword,” caught her eye.
It was [Holy Sword Guardian Samuel]’s weapon, tied to his cursed paladin status, a version 3.2 boss. Aiwas’s monthly Holy Sword Art rely restored its facade, a shell for its curse.
Chloe’s judgnt was sound—this sword held imnse value, linked to apostle and celestial secrets.
To safely claim it, she needed to kill Aiwas without anyone knowing it was her, avoiding trouble.
A pure Adaptation path superhuman would stay rational, recognizing Aiwas’s sword made him untouchable.
But Aiwas knew she wasn’t pure Adaptation. Her presence at his ceremony scread revenge, proving other path influences skewed her actions. With the Shadow Demon’s real-ti tracking, he knew she’d even followed to the banquet for intel.
Sure enough, after his comnt, she left.
[The fish is hooked.]
Aiwas wasn’t afraid of drunkenness.
[Wine], categorized under the Love path, induced madness and chaos, a way to commune with the Eternal Self. Priests sacrificed to the Eternal Self while feasting and drunk.
The Shadow Demon’s “shadow” ability, like an Inferno Demon’s flas under Dedication, also tied to Love. Hence, Aiwas used the “Moon” card for his Sin Tarot with the demon’s power.
The drunker he got, the stronger his ntal link with the Shadow Demon.
Even blackout drunk, he wouldn’t pass out—worst case, the demon would “take over.”
In its current state, the Shadow Demon was reliable.
So, Aiwas didn’t fake drunkenness—that might alert Chloe.
Like baiting the Distorted Limb Demon, he embraced risk. His high compatibility with Herding Art stemd from this “heavy bait” strategy.
To sell the act, he genuinely overdrank, deliberately avoiding Fire Offering or priests’ Illumination to sober up.
His excuse: he wanted to experience drunkenness, and this joyful occasion was perfect.
When asked about his legs, he laid groundwork for a new persona:
He wasn’t truly disabled; the demon prioritized him due to a ritual sacrifice causing leg weakness. He could move but risked falling, so he used a wheelchair for convenience, training to regain strength.
This covered any future slip-ups if he stood.
Lily, confused, didn’t expose him, smoothly adding details to his story as if it were true.
Lying and deception were Adaptation path skills. Aiwas confird Lily’s talent lay there.
The Shadow Demon submitted faster than expected, and the demon’s experience bounty could rapidly level his Transcendence path profession, bypassing slow ritual training.
He’d planned to shed the “Wheelchair Hero” image in half a year, but now it’d be sooner.
He needed mobility for overseas trips or archeology with his ntor—wheelchairs didn’t suit adventuring.
As the banquet’s star, Aiwas’s enthusiasm heated the mood.
By the ti they returned to 14 Ronin Street, it was past midnight.
Aiwas fell asleep en route, draped in Lily’s coat.
Lily wiped him down, gave him a hangover redy, and put him to bed, retiring to the guest room next door.
Two and a half hours later, at 3 a.m., Chloe erged silently, her erald eyes glinting wolf-like.
Pacing noiselessly, she easily found the large key on Aiwas’s wheelchair.
(Chapter End)
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