Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Episode 48.
Garvue drew a crimson magic tome from his robes.
The forbidden text of House Antimola. The first spell he intended to test was one that planted pathogens within a target's body.
Of course, he had no intention of killing quickly. Extreme suffering that elicited the most desperate screams would please Sophon far more.
Garvue opened the first page of the tome. As he began reciting, violet magical energy seeped from the book, spreading through the chamber.
"O shrieking familiar, chairman of the Nine Rings Council, thy follower Gav—"
Before he could complete the incantation, Aiden interrupted with a flat voice.
"Take off your clothes."
Garvue's voice cut off abruptly. His eyes, which had been scanning the tome, slowly lifted to stare at Aiden.
Disbelief hardened his features.
A commoner had no right to address nobility. Commoners who pleaded during torture usually met far crueler ends.
And this was before anything had even begun.
Garvue was so stunned he couldn't even recall what Aiden had said. His eyelids trembled faintly.
"...What?"
"I said take off your clothes."
Aiden needed his student uniform. It couldn't be allowed to get stained with blood or torn.
Garvue remained silent for a long moment.
When the delayed realization of this absurd situation finally struck, his face twisted with terrible rage.
His pride screamed.
"You fucking maggot—!"
He swung his hand violently toward Aiden's face. In that instant—crack!—Garvue's wrist bent inward at an unnatural angle.
He hadn't even seen Aiden move.
His limp hand hung uselessly. Garvue stared blankly at the deformed joint.
Just as he tried to scream, a massive fist crashed into his mouth. Teeth shattered as the blow blocked his throat. No sound escaped. Every attempted scream dissolved into muffled gurgles against his ruined vocal cords.
Aiden immediately kicked his shin—crunch!—splintering the bone.
Still no scream escaped.
Garvue's body tilted sideways. Aiden instantly grabbed his hair, preventing him from falling while keeping him upright.
His remaining leg was shattered with another kick.
Garvue hung limp in Aiden's grip like boneless meat, resembling a squid strung up for drying.
He couldn't process reality. What was happening defied comprehension.
The pain was too intense to dismiss as a nightmare. This level of agony was unprecedented in his privileged life.
He looked at the commoner.
The man's chillingly calm face showed no emotion—not even hatred. That terrified Garvue more.
He threw Aiden a desperate look, begging wordlessly for mercy with every fiber of his being.
"P-please... mercy..."
Aiden used the hand gripping Garvue's hair to wrench his remaining shoulder from its socket. Garvue's eyes rolled back in excruciating pain.
"Guh—hhuuuk—!"
He thrashed his torso wildly—the only movement left to express his suffering. His limbs hung useless.
Aiden produced a makeshift gag from his robes and forced it into Garvue's mouth.
After tightening the knot, he carelessly dumped Garvue onto the floor.
The noble writhed like a worm.
Aiden methodically began undoing Garvue's student uniform.
Though Garvue paled at the implication, Aiden only wanted the clothes.
After stripping him down to his underwear, Aiden exited the hut.
Garvue struggled to comprehend the rapid sequence of events. The man stripping him and leaving made no sense.
Yet he felt relief. He desperately wanted to believe the monster's violence had ended.
After Aiden's prolonged absence, Garvue's terror began curdling into hatred.
His mind raced faster than ever before.
He feverishly envisioned the most brutal methods of retaliation—forcing that bastard and his family to flay each other alive.
He struggled to crawl.
Before he'd moved halfway, the door reopened.
Aiden entered with a grotesque-faced man.
"He's fresh," Aiden said flatly.
Gott nodded, producing a leather pouch from his robes.
Thin, razor-sharp tools spilled out.
Gott of the Holy Blade Executioners—his body melted by burns—was a master craftsman of living skin masks.
Skilled in both technique and possessing divine gifts for the art.
He believed the gods had granted these powers out of pity for his disfigurement.
By stealing heathen faces, he served his deities.
The victims had to be flayed alive—a prerequisite for his divine abilities.
Aiden approached Garvue. Anticipating more torment, the terrified noble was tied to a wooden post with rough rope.
Aiden regarded him coldly.
"Your patron will be most pleased."
Sophon was a perverse deity who reveled in followers' despair.
Garvue didn't know this. Nor could he imagine the horrors awaiting him.
He simply convulsed in terror and hatred, thrashing wildly.
Aiden tapped his shoulder and stepped back.
Gott, clutching sinister blades in both hands, took Aiden's place.
Divine energy ignited in Gott's hands, infusing the thin knives as his work began.
Aiden turned away.
The sound of parting flesh filled the hut. Garvue's convulsions made the decrepit building shudder. Muffled screams echoed inside his ruined mouth.
The evil he'd inflicted had returned like a boomerang.
The little demon who fed on others' suffering had never imagined the same fate might befall him.
He possessed zero tolerance for pain.
Until every inch of his scalp was flayed, he remained conscious, twitching pathetically.
The Holy Blades gathered in a crumbling shack.
Their appearances were completely transformed.
Aiden became Garvue.
Siron took the form of young female student Vera.
Jude impersonated magic department assistant Gemvel.
Gott became silent male student Bato.
Aiden surveyed them before speaking slowly.
"Our rendezvous time approaches. From now on, use only your assumed identities."
Gott's divine gift had even altered their voices to match their counterparts.
However, it couldn't steal memories or abilities.
Any unexpected situations would require improvisation.
Of course, their goal was to complete the mission before complications arose.
Aiden addressed Jude.
"Assistant, you go first."
He nodded and exited the shack, the others following.
Students were already gathering at the drawbridge after their "field exercises."
Most wore satisfied expressions, boasting of their achievements.
Many uniforms were splattered with blood and gore—those students might face demerits.
Magic Academy students were always required to maintain physical and mental purity.
Someone came running toward Aiden.
"Hey! Garvue!"
An ordinary male student—appearing exceptionally pleased—approached.
He clapped Aiden's back familiarly.
"Where'd you disappear to? Couldn't find you anywhere."
Aiden searched his memory. Garvue's classmate Maron. They'd studied this face—the resemblance to their intelligence was perfect.
Aiden gestured to the shack.
"Over there. Got so absorbed I lost track of time."
The student grinned.
"Damn, you must've had good control. I barely had time to enjoy mine before it croaked."
Then, eyeing Jude walking ahead, he whispered:
"Got myself a kid."
The disgusting boast made Aiden's ears itch. Maintaining composure was taxing.
Maron. He committed that name to memory while responding neutrally:
"Luck was on my side."
"You have no idea, bastard."
Continuing this conversation might make him snap the fool's neck. Aiden turned toward the professor waiting at the bridge.
"Alright, alright! Gather up!"
Students formed orderly ranks before the professor.
"Assistant, take attendance."
Jude rushed forward, counting and reporting the numbers.
The professor nodded approvingly.
"Did everyone have... productive sessions?"
Thunderous responses mingled with commoners' screams echoing around them.
"I'm proud of you all. Maintaining dignity while following protocol—you've proven yourselves worthy Magic Academy students."
The professor gestured toward the commoners.
"Never forget to thank those who graced today's occasion. Always show proper respect. Now, let's honor them together."
The demon-possessed students chanted eerie incantations. Aiden joined the chorus.
The professor watched approvingly before signaling a watchtower at the bridge's end.
Massive iron gates clanked open, revealing a crimson lightbeam falling from the sky.
Iris recognition magic—a product of demonic engineering unique to the Duchy.
"A banquet awaits our return. I hear the Archduke's son will be joining us."
Students erupted in cheers. Few magic practitioners didn't revere Prince Tarkan.
Dining with him was a tremendous honor.
Maron nudged Aiden.
"He's probably coming to see you, right?"
The Sophon that Garvue had directly contracted belonged to the "Gusian" bloodline worshipped by the ducal family.
Such connections were inherited by followers.
House Antimola was poised to become a pillar of the Duchy through Garvue.
Until Aiden shattered those ambitions.
Maron looked at Aiden enviously.
"Put in a good word for me if it goes well."
"I'll look after my classmates. Don't worry. Your house will get the same treatment."
"Thanks, bastard."
Leaving the idiot behind, Aiden moved forward.
Students began crossing the bridge.
When the Holy Blades' turn came, tension was inevitable.
Jude went first, tilting his head toward the descending light.
Fortunately, he passed without issue.
Apparently, even demonic engineering couldn't penetrate Gott's divine gift.
The others completed identification and stepped onto the bridge—the illusions distorting the Duchy vanished.
The Holy Blades swallowed hard.
This civilization defied their world's norms.
Though briefed and prepared.
Hearing and seeing created vastly different impressions.
The Duchy was another world entirely.
Spires piercing the clouds, surrounded by orbiting floating citadels.
The city forged from commoners' despair outshone any location in their world.
Even the metropolis beneath the floating citadels dazzled unbearably. They understood why so many abandoned their principles.
The power demons offered was irresistibly sweet. For the privileged, this was paradise incarnate.
Aiden gazed at the floating citadels.
Future targets for destruction. Perhaps that timeline might be accelerated.
Regardless, the prince's head took priority.