Whispers in the Depths and the Academy's Silence
It was a dank, shadowy place thick with moisture. Water droplets plinked steadily from the ceiling above. The floor was carpeted in unidentifiable moss, reeking of the foul stench unique to filth. Iron bars dotted the area here and there. And finally, the dirty sewage water rushed by with a harsh roar.
No one would hesitate to call it an underground sewer. Standing there was a man cloaked in a robe. Before him writhed a test tube filled with green liquid. Was there a living creature inside? The tube convulsed violently, and he murmured softly as he gazed at it.
"Yes, regarding that matter... I apologize. It fell short of expectations."
The man bowed his head, his expression one of utter shame. Like a child scolded by parents, he kept his head humbly lowered without a word.
"Yes, half a failure, but half a success. This will make them wary, and they'll realize our danger. Of course, they'll try to cover it up and hush it away, but the hyenas who've already scented rotten meat will spread the word outside. Yes, those hiding in each area and branch will come seeking us out."
The man spoke as if in conversation, yet there was no one to respond. Still, it didn't feel like mere soliloquy—his demeanor was far too natural.
Then it happened. Space warped behind him, and a figure in a full-body suit appeared. The material clung tightly to her form, revealing graceful curves that made her womanhood obvious.
"Reporting, Your Grace."
"Can't you see I'm in communion right now?"
"My apologies. It's urgent—"
"No helping it, then. What is it?"
The woman handed over a stack of black-and-white photos and documents from her bosom. A knotted string bore the winged emblem symbolizing Prunel Academy.
"We've identified the interloper from this raid."
"......"
"Name: Choi Siwoo, age 17. Enrolled in Class B, melee type—specifically, swordsmanship. The new holy one to appear at Prunel."
"...I wouldn't think our level has fallen so low that we need to invoke 'holy one' status for a mere cadet."
"Forgive my impertinence in questioning. But he single-handedly crushed the S-E1 we deployed this time. I'm sure Your Grace knows the sacrifices it took to create it..."
"I know well. Years of gathered souls—5,000 lives sacrificed to miraculously birth that entity. Even if we tried again, recreating such a beast is impossible."
"...Which is why we must assassinate this holy one all the more."
"Assassinate... you say?"
"He's far too dangerous. If left alone, he'll surely obstruct our future moves. If you entrust it to me, I can—"
The man raised a hand, cutting her off. After a pause, he continued softly.
"Unnecessary."
"...We can't ignore a budding threat."
"Prunel is already a kicked hornet's nest. And it won't end there. The Association has moved directly. Corrupt and arrogant as they are—blind fools who've gouged out their own eyes—they're still the strongest force in this country. Attack someone under their protection and scrutiny again? Do you think that's feasible?"
"That's why I should go myself—!"
"—No. Let me say it again."
The man slowly turned. From within his robe, icy eyes pierced the woman.
"The Lord does not will it."
"...!"
"So don't waste effort on pointless asides. Attend to your assigned plan. The item's development is progressing smoothly—you'll be able to use it soon."
"...The plan for Saintess Yurika?"
"Precisely."
"As I said then, I can't comprehend it. Why spare the damned goddess's foot-wiper instead of killing her?"
"...Killing the saintess holds no meaning. The goddess is like a cockroach—she'll just bear another seed. That's why we spare her. Isn't that what the development is for?"
The woman swallowed her urge to retort. She had plenty she wanted to argue: the plan's variables, how soft it all seemed. But she choked it down. Considering the man's position and status, she had no choice but to hold her tongue.
"...Understood. Additionally, I request bringing in my sisters."
"Three of you for one snot-nosed girl?"
"She's no ordinary girl—the goddess's power dwells in her foot-wiper. No room for error—"
"—Ah, fine. Do as you wish."
The woman ground her teeth. Rage boiled at the man's arrogance. But she said nothing more. As her superior and archbishop, he held all the cards. In the demon world, it was a ruthless law of the jungle. Hierarchy decided everything, and his superior strength alone was reason enough to obey.
The man withdrew his hand—a signal to leave. She silently bowed and vanished from the spot.
"......"
Only then did the man look at the photo in his hand. A boy whose youthful face belied immense power. He was terrifyingly strong now, but compared to his ultimate realm, it was merely the tip of the iceberg.
That was why anticipation stirred. If his blade turned against them, how much rot could he carve away? How many fools, rotten with vain hero worship, could he slay?
"...You're no one meant for such a place."
At his murmur, the green tube erupted in brilliant light. The man, who had listened silently until now, finally showed a flicker of unease.
"...Isn't it too early to use it yet? He's one who shares blood with the Great One, after all."
The tube flared crimson in fury. Realizing his misstep, he hastily bowed.
"Forgive my rudeness. ...Understood. As Your faithful servant, I obey. I am humbled by the blessing bestowed."
Finishing, he drew a palm-sized magic stone from his bosom. It reeked of danger, engraved with words only he could decipher.
"Sixth of the Six Demon Lords Who Defy Heaven..."
With his murmur, all light vanished. Once more, thick darkness enveloped the sewer.
Meanwhile, in Prunel's upper levels, dozens of men and women sat assembled. Frozen stiff with tension, perhaps. No one spoke; a heavy silence reigned.
This was the principal's office, already introduced once—gathered were all instructors save Yoon Jiye, on vacation.
"...What a headache."
The elderly man at the center broke the silence. Principal Cheonwigwang. His face looked haggard from the stress of this incident. He tore at his already sparse hair, groaning deeply.
"Principal, didn't you just get hair loss treatment? What if you yank it all out?"
"Indeed. I heard it cost a fortune..."
"In a society teeming with Awakeners, hair loss is still untreatable. Terrifying disease."
"Tell me about it. Woke up recently to a clump gone—worried I'll end up bald."
Veins bulged on Cheonwigwang's forehead. Fury rose at these young punks spouting nonsense at such a grave moment.
"Quiet, all of you! That's not the point!"
Tutting like 'this is why kids these days...', he tugged his beard instead. The reason they'd gathered to rack their brains? Simple. Post-raid cleanup, and reporting the resolution.
"How many, again?"
"Yes. Report: 51 injured."
"...And fatalities?"
At the final question, the instructor's face darkened.
"...12 C-Class."
"Urgh..."
Cheonwigwang groaned deeply. Regret and sorrow flooded him for the promising youths who'd withered before blooming.
As he mourned inwardly, the seated instructors conversed. Much chatter, but the consensus: fortunate, all things considered.
"Heard Song Junho shone brightly. As expected of Song family blood."
"Cheolwangguk staked his life to hold the line... We must commend him personally for that."
"Ohana too..."
Surface praise, all. But everyone here knew: the true hero was someone else, deliberately unmentioned.
Cheonwigwang swallowed his discomfort, sighing inwardly.
'How did it come to this? Awakener society wasn't this rotten...'
The incident had cracked Prunel's prestige. Failing to prevent such a beast made the elite academy name laughable. But it wouldn't end with "Our apologies; we'll do better."
Prunel's tarnish was the domestic Association's problem—and by extension, the Hero League's, the world's mightiest Awakener body. Heroes prized image and justification above all. They had to shine flawlessly, lest villains exploit the chink.
This society still bore scars from the "War of Embers" decades ago. Barely patched, it only looked peaceful. Cheonwigwang knew well: one spark on dry tinder, and inferno would rage.
The Association knew too. Their dispatched inspector had proposed—what amounted to an order.
'Publicize the cadets' valor there... And claim Hero Erina saved the day.'
In short: fabricate heroes to redirect criticism. Downplay damages too.
Most B-Class kids had talent and backing—perfect poster children. But one snag: Choi Siwoo. Specifically, his status. Orphan, no backing. To the Association, just a skilled upstart. No propaganda value, so his life-risking feats went unrewarded.
That's why most here deliberately omitted his name—fear of backlash.
'Pathetic...' What principal? What legend? Failing to honor a cadet who'd fought for his life...
'I'd love to flip the table.' But that'd doom the remaining kids.
As Cheonwigwang brooded darkly, a firm voice reached his ear.
"Principal. Time's up. Shall we adjourn?"
"Ah, already? Thanks, Instructor Kang Hanseong."
Cheonwigwang eyed him briefly. Kang showed no emotional ripple—odd, given his prior protest of Choi Siwoo's unfair classing.
'Given up...?' He knew the rot ran too deep for complaints.
Another adult compromising with reality.
"All: keep this incident confidential. No confusing the remaining cadets. Understood?"
Nods all around. Meeting adjourned.
They seemed dispersed. As Cheonwigwang sipped coffee, a knock sounded.
"Come in."
"Pardon the intrusion."
A voluptuous redhead entered gracefully. Instructor Jegalrin.
"You summoned me separately, Principal."
"Thanks. Couldn't discuss in the meeting."
As she sat, Cheonwigwang cut to the chase. She listened silently, then ventured:
"So... you're saying there's a traitor?"
"Yes. Undeniable. This incident? Impossible without inside help."
"...The Association?"
"Sees the possibility but wants it hushed. If true, they can't cover anymore. You know: they're focused on 'real villains' outside areas."
"...So you tell me this meaning...?"
Jegalrin's eyes gleamed with strange zeal.
"Exactly. I want you to investigate. I'd do it myself, but my position and skills don't suit sleuthing."
"...True, you're best at smashing and crushing."
"...Feels pointed. Am I wrong?"
"Not wrong. Remember? You broke the thing I painstakingly made—"
"—Ahem. Anyway, your unique ability suits investigation best. That's why I called you."
Dialogue continued; her persuasion wore her down. Jegalrin nodded.
"Understood. I'll handle it."
"Thanks. Here—a plaque with my name. Grants principal proxy privileges. Any obstruction? Shove it in their trash."
"...Could I use it to take you out?"
"Want to be fired?"
"Joking."
Jegalrin toyed with the plaque. She knew its immense value, casually given. Thus, suspicion stirred. Just maybe...
"Pardon, but... you don't suspect me, do you?"
Cheonwigwang burst laughing at the absurdity. Wiping tears amid guffaws, he quipped:
"Least of all a sister who'd loose beasts where her sibling studies. Can't trust old pupils? Then no teacher's qualification."
"...Fair."
"Speaking of: unique kid. How's she? Second-year, right?"
"...Dealing black market lately. Keeps herself safe, but as a sister, worries pile up."
"Tough."
"Since it's out: more updates?"
"...Hm?"
"Listen, Principal—or Instructor. She barges in suddenly, demands dungeon access. Met some super hot guy... Said best male she'd seen, wanted to bed him for a sample. I was shocked—"
"—Instructor Jegalrin. We're not friends. Such talk before the principal...?"
"Can I claim damages for that broken thing? Tens of billions, surely—"
"—Spill freely. I'll listen intently."
Jegalrin chuckled at his Udyr-level pivot.
'Same as ever.' Her mentor from cadet days. His personal request. And... yeah, the academy her only sister attended. If shadows loomed, she'd guard it fiercely, by any means.
'...First...'
Time to visit the family estate.