Emma glanced down at her wristband, hesitated for a second, then tapped it open. Ron's messages appeared, and she lifted her eyebrows as she looked toward the group ahead.
Their mission was clear: scout the area, find a way to break through the barrier, and identify the terrorists' gathering points.
The terrorist organization wasn't actually a single unified entity; it consisted of dozens of small groups operating under the same initial directive. Not every group was assigned to kill or destroy. Some only collected items, kidnapped individuals, or simply did whatever they were told. No restrictions, no rules—each group had its own way of operating, its own strength, and even its own hidden backing. Because of that, even with ten academies joining forces with the military, handling them was extremely difficult.
Of course, their side wasn't without advantages.
The first advantage: the alliance. Ten academies standing together—because nothing binds people faster than a shared enemy.
The second advantage: initiative. After two days of being forced into a passive state, they had gradually regained control of several key areas in the city and identified many enemy positions.
And there was one thing everyone understood: the leaders of the terrorist organization still had not shown themselves. They hid in the shadows, sending only disposable pawns… leaving everything stuck in a suffocating stalemate, with no one able to predict what would come next.
"Drink this. You look like you're about to pass out."
Receiving the can of coffee, Luce blinked in surprise before lowering her head, thanking them, and drinking.
Watching that scene, Emma wondered if someone could really be that obedient and that careless.
This girl… trusting people like that—what if someone poisoned her?
Emma could only sigh. She kept forgetting that they weren't people raised in the underworld, trained to be cautious and calculating.
"There's an order from the commander-in-chief!"
Everyone turned toward the speaker—a young man in his early twenties who seemed to be a junior instructor.
"We need to move to the eastern side, toward the plaza and residential area."
Everyone nodded, stood up, and began preparing to move as usual.
But upon hearing it, Emma frowned. She looked at the map and questioned him.
"But that will split our forces. The area we're guarding will become an open path for them, and concentrating too many people—"
"I'm sorry, young lady."
The young instructor cut her off, clearly not willing to listen to anything she said.
"It's the commander-in-chief's order. We should follow him. Or do you think you're smarter than he is?"
"…"
"Silence is better. Let's go…"
The others looked at Emma as if calling her stupid, though they were merely students lacking the ability to assess the situation.
Suddenly, a strange sensation surged through everyone present.
They all turned toward the same direction—a ruined mansion.
…
Hidden in the pitch-black darkness, the followers of "Reality Unbidden" were praying, using the blood of the dead to write strange symbols.
They prayed to the "Blood Glyph," or at least that was what they carved into those markings.
They wore bizarre outfits, like clothes made of paper covered in chants for blessing or cursing.
They were weak, but they could pray to demons—beings who granted them power—which elevated their influence within the entire terrorist operation to one of the highest levels.
"The Supreme Luminous-in-Darkness"
"The One Whose Clarity Unsettles the Heavens"
"The Noble Deity of Logos"
"The Unfathomable Dream of Autumn and Spring"
"The Sage Whom We Exalt."
"be…df"
They chanted their invocations, their sacred verses.
But before they could finish, one of them suddenly made a strange sound.
Blood poured from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, and he suffocated on his own blood.
"What the—"
When another moved forward to check on him, he too suddenly vomited a mass of blood like the one before.
"Run—run!"
The worshipers scattered in all directions, but they didn't get far; the ambush units were already there.
"What are you standing around for? Attack!"
The one leading the demonic ritual shouted—before blood burst from every hole in his body.
Corpses surged from the ground at the command of the cultists, turning the battle around and attacking the ambushers.
The ambush team responded swiftly, shifting formations, adapting, and closing in on the cultists.
The foolish, terrified believers could only pick up their weapons and desperately resist. But their heads burst when blades severed the limbs of the ambushers.
A storm of blades swept across those standing in ambush. Eyes, throat, heart, limbs—everywhere was covered in slashes, yet strangely, there was no blood.
"…Fake."
One of them shouted. Everything was fake. Everything here was an illusion. No—this entire ambush was an illusion.
He snapped back to his senses. A survivor of the underworld—though he had never encountered something like this, he understood what was happening.
Grabbing a dagger, he slit his own throat, a twisted grin spreading across his face as if he had achieved something.
The corpse's white, clouded eyes suddenly lit up as though life returned. He looked around. It was still the same place. Nothing had changed. The ritual continued. Only the ones who had died choking on blood remained seated exactly where they were.
"Ah—uh—ghh"
More blood surged from his lungs, nauseating and foul.
Yet he laughed—because he had finally completed the demonic ritual.
Rank 8—corrupted mana core of spirits and filth. He understood the concept of offering oneself, of pushing his soul into the realm of the dead.
He had indirectly killed everyone to gain power, for the demon he worshipped.
A vessel—he would become the vessel for the demon's descent, the one who held the chalice of royal blood.
…
"What the hell is that?"
"Contact the command center. Report that the North–South route is crawling with corpses."
"Should we deploy instructors and students!?"
"Unnecessary. They're immortal and carry plague. Fighting them is pointless; only sealing them will work."
From the clocktower, supervisors and students watched as the bodies strewn across the road suddenly stood up, horror carving itself into their minds.
Euni, standing nearby, immediately grew suspicious. He looked into the distance, toward a demon bound tightly by chains.
"Call the commander-in-chief about this…"