Outside the research facility, the city of Seytalle bustled with life, unaware of the grim discovery being made within its walls.
But in the quiet, secret room where Marielle and Rashore worked, a sinister truth was unfolding.
And with each passing moment, it became increasingly clear: the danger they faced was far greater than anyone had anticipated.
“I’ll be back.” Miss Marielle strode purposefully through the hallways of the research facility, her mind racing as she prepared to deliver the groundbreaking—and deeply unsettling—results of her and Rashore’s study.
The dim corridors were empty except for the faint incessant humming of magical containment wards, a reminder of the precautions taken to guard their work. These containments would lock down immediately danger arose.
Her hand tightened on the edge of her robes as she entered the main hall where the other researchers had gathered. They were seated at a long, polished table, their faces etched with curiosity and anticipation.
“Miss Marielle,” one of the senior researchers, a stern man with a thin mustache, greeted her. “We’ve been waiting. What’s the result of your analysis?”
Marielle nodded curtly, motioning for them to follow her. “It’s… better if I show you.”
All the others rose to their feet without a moment of hesitation, following behind her as she’d requested.
A few moments later, the researchers stood crowded around the dissected demon’s corpse in the secret room.
The air felt heavier due to the tension in the room, each individual eager to hear what the research result was. Rashore stepped forward, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.
“Thank you all for coming,” Rashore began, his voice calm but firm. “What you’re about to hear is troubling, to say the least.”
The researchers exchanged uneasy glances.
“As you know,” Rashore continued, “myself and Miss Marielle have been studying this demon since our return to determine its origin and any potential threats it poses. After extensive analysis, we’ve uncovered some… anomalies.”
He gestured to the dissected body. “This demon is unlike any we’ve encountered before. Its anatomy is disturbingly human. In fact, we’ve confirmed that it was human before undergoing a transformation of some sort.”
“What?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gasps rippled through the group at the mention of the demon being human initially.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Marielle interjected, holding up a small, crystalline dark object. “This is an artificial essence core we found embedded in the demon’s chest cavity. It’s not natural, nor does it resemble any known demonic energy sources. Someone—or something—created this.”
The room fell silent as the implications sank in.
“Created?” one of the researchers repeated, his voice trembling. “Are you saying this demon was… engineered?”
Rashore nodded grimly. “Exactly. This essence core didn’t just appear inside the demon. It was placed there, likely as part of the transformation process. And whoever—or whatever—did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
“That would mean whatever did this is highly intelligent.”
“Indeed. They have to be at least as smart as humans to engineer such.”
The group erupted into murmurs, their voices filled with alarm and disbelief. One of the younger researchers, a woman with sharp green eyes, raised her hand. “Do we have any idea who— or what—might be behind this?”
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Rashore said, his tone heavy. “We’ve brainstormed two possibilities. The first is that an exceptionally intelligent demon is responsible. One capable of advanced manipulation and experimentation.”
The group nodded slowly, their expressions dark.
“And the second possibility?” the mustached researcher asked, though his tone suggested he already dreaded the answer.
Rashore hesitated, glancing at Marielle before continuing. “The second possibility… is that humans are behind this.”
The room went deathly quiet.
“You can’t be serious,” one of the senior researchers said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why would humans create demons?”
“Why does anyone do anything?” Rashore replied, his tone bitter. “Power. Control. Chaos. Pick your poison.”
Marielle stepped forward, her expression resolute. “We can’t dismiss either possibility. There are rumors of human traitors who’ve aligned themselves with the demons and we all know it. If those rumors are true, this could be their work.”
Another researcher spoke up, his face pale. “We have to report this to the council immediately. If humans are creating demons, this could spiral out of control.”
Marielle nodded. “I’ll draft a letter to the council. But we need to be thorough. Our findings must be clear and undeniable.”
As the researchers discussed the next steps, the atmosphere in the room grew heavier. The implications of their discovery weighed on everyone, but there was no turning back now.
Marielle turned to Rashore as the others began to leave. “Are we ready to face whatever comes next?”
Rashore smirked faintly, though there was no humor in his eyes. “Not even close.”
“What do you both mean?” One of the other researchers asked.
Marielle turned to her and smiled weakly. “We’ll be visiting the ruins again for more answers.”
~~~~~
Meanwhile, back at the Mercenary Guild, Damien sat cross-legged on his bed, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation. The room was barely bright—if one could even consider it bright—with the faint glow of his system’s interface reflecting off the walls at least to his sight alone.
His thoughts churned, a storm of emotions brewing within him.
“I’ve been getting soft,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and bitter.
The memory of his past haunted him—his father, Lord Terrace, and the cold indifference he’d shown. Two years. Two years of exile, of struggle, of survival. And not once had his father, his family, come looking for him.
Damien clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “They didn’t even bother to check if I was dead or alive.”
It wasn’t just the lack of concern that stung. It was the realization that he had been abandoned, discarded like a pawn no longer useful.
His thoughts drifted to Damon, his younger brother. “He’s an exception,” Damien murmured. “He couldn’t have come looking for me, not without risking his own life.”
But that didn’t absolve the rest of the Terrace family. Their silence, their inaction—it was a wound that refused to heal.
Damien exhaled deeply, his focus shifting to the glowing system interface before him.
«Mission Objective: Demon Extinction.»
The words stared back at him, a stark reminder of his ultimate goal.
He smirked grimly. “I’ve barely scratched the surface.”
The war with the demons was fast approaching, and Damien knew he had to prepare. His system’s progress tracker displayed his next milestone:
«100 Demon Kills to Unlock Next Summon.»
He rose from his bed, his determination renewed. “Those demons won’t kill themselves.”