A dark night.

In front of a large, shabby warehouse, several mercenaries were burning cigarettes.

As they chuckled and gossiped, they spoke with a sense of relief.

Its so refreshing to not have to listen to the children whine.

The warehouses have been full of them the last few days.

But where have they all gone, in one day?

A wagon arrived at dawn and loaded everything. I didnt inquire as to where they were going. I want to live a long life.

Not long ago, the warehouse was home to a number of orphans with no connections.

But now the warehouse is empty, and in a few days, a new batch of children will be transported from somewhere.

And then theyll disappear, no one knows when or where.

I want to know where theyre coming from and where theyre going.

Arthur, wondering about useless things will lead you to your death.

I heard they go to some kind of nursery in the center of the Imperial City.

Thats right, a nursery run by the Faithful Quovadis. Dont worry.

The mercenaries made small talk, stretching and yawning.

Then.

Suddenly, the mercenaries fell silent.

A hulking man who must have stood at least six feet tall stepped to their side.

Captain Ron Bartison.

A fierce mercenary from the North. The Flesh Grinder, The Butchers Hammer, and other gory nicknames followed.

Stop talking and stand guard, if you want to take home a handful of coins for your wasted life.

.

Trashy stuff.

Bartison clicked his tongue and continued on his way.

He sneered inwardly at the mercenaries who couldnt speak a word at his size.

What kind of argument could a lowly mercenary with no mana have against a man of his stature?

?

The standing mercenaries didnt just talk.

Thud.

A man slumped to the ground.

He was followed by the other mercenaries, who went limp.

What the hell?

Bartison quickly reached to the hammer at his waist.

Now, a long shadow was cast in the glow of the roaring campfire.

What, what?

Bartison was startled.

A figure peered down from the roof of the warehouse.

A black cloak, a black hat, and an ominous storks beak mask covering its face.

Are you Ron Bartison?

The spooky voice said.

Bartison swallowed dryly.

Tsutsutsuts

Bartisons hammer took on an aura.

Wrapped around the hammer was a gooey aura that could only be used by those who had attained enlightenment, an aura that represented the Graduator.

What are you doing!

He swung the hammer with all his might.

Tried to swing it away.

But all he could manage to swing were his two wrists, which were now missing.

Thud!

The hammer flew upward with such momentum that it landed behind him, scattering the aura it carried.

?

Bartison staggered backward.

No blood gushed out. The cut where his wrist had been severed had been instantly dried by the heat.

Uh-Ah?

Bartison opened his mouth to scream.

But he couldnt.

The ominous shadow had crawled down from the roof of the warehouse and was now looking into his face.

Ron Hubert Bartison. First pact with the demon four years ago, when he molested and killed the 13-year-old girl next door and sacrificed her. Since then, hes been stealing information from the Northern Guild Union and feeding it to the demon. Finally, he betrayed his platoon, the 1st Platoon, 4th Company, 207th Regiment, 75th Division, 5th Legion of the Humanity Alliance, by handing over the location of the platoons sleeping quarters to the enemy while on guard duty. Led a friendly platoon to destruction. Is that right?

The Shadows question was hard and chilling.

Bartison stammered a reply.

Ughhhh The incident from four years ago is correct but after that?! They were not done by me!

Yeah. Theyre just things you havent done yet.

What, what?

Bartison gasped, stepping back.

But he couldnt.

This time, his ankle was severed.

No!

Bartison couldnt even scream anymore.

The Shadow stretched out his right hand, and a black sword was drawn and plunged into his throat.

Bartison struggled, and then he was dead.

Vikir. The Night Hound.

He stared down at Bartisons body in front of him.

No, he wondered.

In time, Bartisons corpse would quickly begin to decay and turn to mush.

Just as Seth Le Baskerville had said.

The odor is still there.

Vikirs brow furrowed slightly.

Those who have made a pact with the demon emit a rotten odor from their very souls.

A stench that grew more and more foul with the degree of corruption.

Veteran swordsmen who have lived through the Age of Destruction recognize the scent like a ghost, but the people of this age will not yet be able to smell it.

So for now, only Vikir knew how to smell it.

Tsutsutsutsuts

Bartisons face melted like ice under the sun, and soon he was gone, his skeleton on full display.

It was unusual for the face to decay so quickly compared to other body parts.

Does this ability come from the Ten Corpses who made a pact with him? Ill have to look into that as well.

Vikir took an owl from his bosom and wrote a letter detailing the situation.

It was addressed to Cindiwendy, who had a number of agents and informants at her disposal.

With the letter in hand, Vikir turned away.

Several bottles of liquor lay in front of the roaring campfire.

Vikir picked up the strongest bottle of rum and poured it over the bloodstains on his cloak.

The strong liquor washed away the dirty blood.

Vikir tore the page from the death book containing the name Ron Bartison and threw it into the fire.

The page turns black in an instant and curls into a ball, then turns to ash and floats away into the sky.

Soon.

Off.

Its your back.

What, did I fall asleep?

The mercenaries standing in front of the warehouse began to wake up one by one.

Huh?

But all they saw was a dying bonfire that had lost most of its wood, and a faceless corpse lying in a heap beside it.

* * *

Ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding- ding-

From the clock tower at the center of the academy, the majestic bell chimed twelve times.

A little after midnight. The nights tasks were over earlier than hed expected.

Vikir had visited mansions in upscale neighborhoods, warehouses on the outskirts of the city, gambling dens in the slums, glitzy clubs in the basement, secluded houses by the lake, brothels, and more, and that night alone he had snapped twenty-nine heads.

The only thing they all had in common was that theyd made pacts with the demon, were accused of betrayal and infidelity, and their faces melted immediately upon death.

Unfortunately, Vikir got almost no clues out of this whole process.

This meant that his assassination was going to be a long and arduous one.

I didnt expect a harvest this soon anyway.

Today is literally just the first day.

Vikir returned to the academy, the pages of the Death Book still thick in his mind.

Jaw!

He climbed over the Academys outer wall, which was as high and solid as a city wall.

From this vantage point, you can see that the Academys buildings are indeed large and magnificent.

In the distance, the dormitories were silent in the darkness.

Vikir flew toward the lecture hall.

Bright lights and boisterous laughter emanated from the windows of the buildings in the other direction.

OT, is the freshman welcome party still going on?

Vikir thought for a moment.

Should he go back to his dorm and sleep, or should he stay up late and attend the freshman welcome dinner?

After a few moments of deliberation, the answer came quickly.

Just show up.

It wasnt about networking with seniors or classmates.

I just want to have an alibi, just in case.

He was also a little worried about Figgy being alone.

Vikir took off his mask, tucked it into his arms, and landed on the roof of the lecture hall.

As he was about to descend the stairs leading down.

Ping! Boom!

A single firecracker shot high into the air, lighting up the night sky.

In the next moment, Vikir could see a man and woman standing by the railing of the rooftop stairs.

!

Vikirs eyes narrowed.

The brief glow of the firecrackers as they exploded and faded was enough to tell him who they were.

The beautiful woman, tall and sharp-featured, was unmistakably Bianca Usher, a freshman of Class 20.

She was a super rookie who was making a name for herself by ranking first in the Cold Departments placement test.

The boys face, on the other hand, was not one that Vikir remembered particularly well.

Their vibe was odd.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and called out to Bianca.

I fell in love with you the moment I saw you! Wont you go out with me! Ill be nice to you!

Apparently, he was a second-year student.

But Bianca was adamant.

Hah

With a deep sigh, she swept her bangs and squinted one eye.

Youre right. Did you call me up to that rooftop just to say that?

Uh, yeah. Uh, yeah, right?

Well, first of all, let me apologize, I cant afford to go out with a guy or anything right now.

Ha, but you have nothing to lose by going out with me! Im in the student council and Im also in the leading club!

Yeah. Im sorry.

And with that, Bianca turned and kicked her confessor to the curb.

Vikir stood behind the stone pillar of the railing and thought.

Good times. Well, it has nothing to do with me.

Watching the innocent lovemaking of children twenty years younger than him made the tip of his nose tickle.

Vikir soon pulled away, his back to the pillar.

At that very moment.

!

Biancas head snapped up.

Whos there?

Bianca asks in a cold voice, and then she takes a step and shoots toward the stone pillar that Vikir is hiding behind.

Great eyesight.

Vikir shrugged once.

Bam!

Vikir slammed into the wall and leaped down.

No need to take the stairs.

Vikir leaped from railing to railing, pillar to pillar, and quickly disappeared in the direction of the lecture hall.

Bianca caught up with him a few minutes later, and her eyes widened.

What was that? I felt a presence.

Bianca looked again at the stone pillars, railings, and stairs that had been kicked in just before.

But something that had been there was gone, like a ghost.

Did I see it wrong?

Bianca scratched her head.

The divine archers of Usher House could see and hear things miles away.

They are also masters of the art of archery, and their bodies are so strong and gaunt that it is no exaggeration to say that no one can match their speed, especially in pursuit.

Bianca, the eldest daughter of such a family, chasing someone and losing them?

That couldnt happen, at least not within this academy.

I must have been looking in the wrong place, I was too sensitive.

Bianca turned to look between the stone pillars.

It was time to return to her seat at the new student reception.

Just then.

!

Bianca stopped in her tracks.

A faint smell wafted past her nostrils.

It was the unmistakable scent of strong rum.

Not the kind of smell youd expect to find on a rooftop exit staircase with nothing but the night breeze and moonlight.

What does that mean?

Someone was here.

Biancas expression hardened.

Someone had been here just moments ago.

But that didnt matter now.

What mattered was that someone was here, and that someone was gone.

And that someone who had been here had evaded Bianca, the prodigy of the Usher House!

No way!

But what about the fact that theres nothing in front of her now?

It means that the person has fled at a speed that barely exceeded her own.

Who could it be? A senior or a professor?

But theres no reason for a senior or a professor to run away from Biancas pursuit.

Moreover, Bianca was confident that she could outrun any senior or professor in terms of speed.

After all, shed demonstrated that in her practical assessment.

But who?

Didnt this mean that someone in the academy could just run away from her easily?

Bianca sniffed, confused, at the scent of rum that was slowly fading on the night breeze.

Then.

Hey, Bianca, come on, its almost time for the freshman talent show!

She heard her classmates waving and calling from the window below.

.

Bianca cant help but turn on her heel with a nervous look on her face.

With only the scent of cheap rum wafting behind her.