Chapter 154: A String of Cadet Disappearances (8)

As I listened to Professor Bastion and Senior Sophia’s exchange, fragments of my past life resurfaced. In my previous life, Professor Bastion had abandoned the Artificial Soul Stigmata research. However, along with that, he had abandoned his life too.

This time, something was different. I didn’t know what had triggered it, but he had resolved to continue the research. In a life that had been filled with nothing but despair, he began to dream of hope. And someone had exploited that hope.

That faint, unpleasant sense of discord I had felt earlier, I finally understood what it was. “So the one who lured Professor Bastion in… was that ‘snake,’ wasn’t it?”

I snapped my fingers, pointing toward a patch of undergrowth. Flames roared up, devouring the trees. From the charred branches, a pale-white serpent crawled forth. Its eerie eyes locked onto me, and in the next moment, it transformed, taking the form of a woman with flowing white hair.

She looked at me with a delighted smile, as if I were some amusing discovery. “Oh my! And how exactly did you realize I was here?”

I shrugged. “Because the stench of rot and blood has been reeking from over there for quite some time.”

“My, my! To call a maiden rotten, aren’t you being a bit too cruel?”

“Maiden? Don’t make me laugh.”

Suppressing a scoff, I studied her carefully. Odd as it would sound, I knew who she was: the Bishop of Depravity, Serpente. She was a demon, lieutenant to the Archbishop of Depravity, Mephisto. Since Mephisto rarely showed himself, Serpente was the one who worked from the shadows, pulling strings behind countless incidents across the continent.

Crossing her arms, Serpente narrowed her eyes and flicked her long tongue like the serpent she truly was. “Hmm. Judging by that look on your face, you already know who I am, don’t you?”

She nodded knowingly, as if she already had me figured out. “Dale Han, just as Lord Mephisto said.”

Then, her lips curled into a sly grin. “But it’s too late now. The Heir of the Great Sage has already heard my whisper.”

The Blessing of Whisper was a mental-type blessing that stirred a target’s hope and nudged their actions down a chosen path.

Serpente turned her smile toward the professor. “Isn’t that right, Professor?”

Professor Bastion gasped heavily, bloodshot eyes burning, as a soul stigmata of gloomy black light pulsed on his chest.

Staring at him with serpentine delight, Serpente whispered, “It’s time to rid yourself of those pests standing in the way of your dream.”

Her sweet murmur echoed in his ear, and Professor Bastion’s eyes, blazing red, locked onto me. He began forming a hand seal. Complex runes unfolded in the air, geometric symbols glowing like gems. But their brilliance was tainted, streaked with black, until they radiated a sickly, ominous dark-blue light.

Professor Bastion said in a crazed tone, “Bloom.”

The runes linked together, blooming outward like flowers unfurling. The sheer mana swelling from them dwarfed anything before. From the array, beams of black-blue light erupted, cascading toward me like a tidal wave.

Senior Sophia’s face turned pale, and she shouted, “It’s dangerous!”

She could sense the overwhelming, destructive force of Professor Bastion’s spell.

But I raised my blade and murmured, “Ignite.”

Flames burst around me, cloaking my body in fire. I swung my sword straight into the oncoming storm of light, using Ashen Flame Style First Form—Modified: Ash Severance Wave. The strike split into dozens of ashen waves, shattering the dark-blue beams into fragments of light.

“Bloom.”

But it wasn’t over. With another low incantation, fresh beams surged forth, pouring endlessly from the runic formation. The array was meshing together like some intricate machine, generating a ceaseless barrage. I narrowed my eyes, wondering about the principle behind this.

“Haaaah!”

This time, I executed Ashen Flame Style Second Form: Flame Fang. A burning blade shot forward from a distance, yet as it neared the runes, its trajectory twisted sharply, veering off into nothing.

Hmm. It doesn’t just attack relentlessly, it deflects incoming strikes too, I thought.

It was expected of the Heir of the Great Sage. Such a spell was nothing short of absurd. But in my heart, I carried a power far more absurd than his.

“Burn.”

The fire engulfing me blazed higher, spiraling with ashen smoke. Flames devoured my body, but I strode forward without hesitation, stamping my foot toward Professor Bastion. The dark-blue barrage rained down on me from every direction. However, I twisted my lips into a sharp grin and thrust my sword forward.

Ashen Flame Style Third Form: Flame Lance.

My sword greedily absorbed the downpour of dark-blue beams raining from every direction, gathering all of it at the tip. A sphere of grey fire blazed to life, then shot straight at the barrier of runes Professor Bastion had conjured.

And then, it exploded upon contact. The explosion was deafening, enough to make ears ring. Trees and boulders were hurled away like ants caught in a hurricane. The runic formation Professor Bastion had painstakingly created shattered into fragments, scattering into the air.

Professor Bastion staggered back, blood gushing from his mouth. “Guh!”

Serpente’s face froze in shock. “What is this?”

She had never imagined that the Heir of the Great Sage, especially after gaining even greater power through an Artificial Soul Stigmata, would be pushed back so miserably.

Her eyes trembled as she stared at me, murmuring, “Impossible.”

Seizing the brief lull after my powerful strike, she whispered again in Professor Bastion’s ear. “Professor? At this point, wouldn’t it be wiser to seize another cadet as a hostage?”

A sweet murmur slithered into his mind once more. Professor Bastion’s bloodshot gaze turned toward Senior Sophia.

Sensing danger, Senior Sophia hurriedly tried to retreat. However, Professor Bastion’s hands moved faster, tracing a seal in the air. A new formation emerged, smaller than before, but still pulsing with ominous dark-blue light.

Berald shouted, “It’s dangerous!”

“Kyaaah!”

Berald threw himself around Senior Sophia, shielding her with his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the blast. But nothing happened. The geometric runes Professor Bastion had drawn only flickered with a baleful glow, without unleashing anything.

Serpente snapped. “What are you doing? Take a hostage already!”

Her anxious gaze darted between me and Professor Bastion.

Professor Bastion’s hand faltered, wavering between Senior Sophia and Berald. A pained groan slipped from his lips. His eyes, red and bloodshot, darted toward them, but in the end, he never released the spell.

Serpente’s expression twisted with shock. “You resisted my whisper?”

It wasn’t that no one had ever resisted her before. Some heroes had managed to ignore her Blessing of Whisper. But those cases were only possible because they had shut it out from the very beginning.

Her enchantment always started as nothing more than a faint murmur, small enough to dismiss if ignored. But once a person yielded, even once, her whisper would take root and grow louder, eventually drowning out all other voices. For someone like Professor Bastion, who had been under her sway for over a month, it should have been impossible to hear anything but her.

She ground her teeth. “Why? Why isn’t my whisper working on you?”

Serpente whispered again and again, trying to reassert control. But her efforts were meaningless. The crimson in Professor Bastion’s eyes slowly faded, returning to their original color. Then came a voice, faint but steady. The voice that, at this moment, mattered the most to him.

“Haa!”

Professor Bastion turned his head toward Senior Sophia and said in a low voice, sunken with sorrow, “Oscar was… a terrible cadet.”

Senior Sophia silently listened.

Tears welled at the corners of his eyes as he gazed at her. “Arrogant, selfish, reckless, and blind to everything but himself. But. But even so…”

He touched the Artificial Soul Stigmata etched into his chest, sobbing. “He was my precious student. My irreplaceable disciple.”

Senior Sophia’s eyes trembled. “You…”

She gently pushed Berald aside and rose to her feet, slowly stepping toward Professor Bastion. Each step echoed in the tense silence.

“I’m sorry. I never should have dreamed such a foolish dream. Saving the world? That was nothing but arrogance from the start, and because of that dream, your brother… lost his life. Heh! And now, to finish a research born from hope by borrowing the power of demons. What a pathetic, wretched end this is!”

A dream that had been pure, even naive, was now sullied by his own hands.

With a bitter smile, Professor Bastion knelt before her. “Don’t forgive me.”

Senior Sophia raised her staff, pointing it at the professor’s bowed head. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to…”

Red mana swirled at its tip. Then, a light tap landed on his forehead.

“Huh?”

Bewildered, Professor Bastion lifted a hand to rub the spot as she walked past him, her voice quiet but steady. “Next time, finish it without relying on the power of demons, the dream you shared with my brother.”

Professor Bastion was dumbfounded.

She shrugged, flashing him a small, wry smile. “If I help, you might complete it faster than you think. Believe it or not, I’m much better at magic than my brother ever was.”

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