Weapons of Mass Destruction

Chapter 627: A demon, after all

I think demons as a race are a bit... well, weird. Not in a racist way! Unlike our paladin of Justice, Gareth, who almost certainly wouldn’t mind annihilating an entire city of demons, I hold no such opinions.

It’s just that they’re weird. My minion has a human part and can’t truly represent full demons, so it’s not as noticeable on her, even though she’s clearly been heavily influenced.

Unlike her, Professor Feran is a full demon. White hair, red eyes, horns. Even though he can control himself to the point that he’s allowed into the Academy without people worrying he’ll eat kids, he’s still a demon in the end.

During my time here in prison, he’s come to see me every day. Weʼve already had six fights, and each time he’s nearly died.

Anyway, while the new active skill is kind of really, really bad. But what I would have expected from the skill called [Yarn]. I think even [Knitting], which formed the base for the skill, was more powerful, and the weird combination I made ruined it. Is it too much to hope I can get rid of [Knitting] without ending up with something equally lame instead?

At least I’m learning a lot from the demonic Professor.

As a true mana enjoyer, one of the biggest dangers I can face is misclicking when investing stat points and accidentally putting them into strength instead of mana.

The second biggest danger is someone cutting off access to my mana. I’ve experienced that many times, especially back on the 3rd Floor, where I almost died after being hunted down with no access to my mana. Ever since then, I’ve made huge steps. With all my effort, I can use my mana under my natural barrier, even against someone stronger than me trying to suppress it. Using mana outside my body is different and it’s more difficult, but I’m working on that too.

Of course, I have a fuck-you-and-every-trace-of-mana-in-this-area card called black mana. It’s just that I try not to rely on it too much, even now. It’s just another thing I dislike about LissLiss, because, of course, she was right.

Still, my goal for this loop is to observe primordial void energy, which could be dangerous to me, and the current setup is just perfect. I, alone in a huge chamber, not being bullied by other people. My only communication with the outside world is through text messages in the Community, if I want to talk at all. Food is delivered, without ever having to speak to the person doing it.

Plus, I get to fight this demon guy, I train, and I think they’ve noticed the broken suppression devices. They might put stronger ones on me, which I can try to break again, training myself against mana suppression in new and exciting ways. I hope they try something fancier this time.

My thoughts stop there as Professor Feran, whom I thought might be dead, moves and groans. He lies on the floor, curled up in a small pool of his own blood.

I watch as his eyes focus and he remembers that he lost yet another fight. Slowly, he gets back up on his feet. Even though burned and torn–he, not his clothes–he fixes what remains of his suit before sitting back down across from me.

“Who is the strongest person in the Academy?” I ask him.

Before answering, he coughs up blood that lands on the floor between us, “That would be the Director, but he’s off-planet at the moment. After him, that’s likely to be the Vice Director, though it’s hard to say because she refuses my invitations to fight.”

“What about Professor Elian and that old Trait Professor grandpa?”

“When you talk about the old Trait Professor grandpa, do you mean Hywell, the Tyrant?”

What the hell!? That old fart has such a cool name, and he didnʼt lie about his cool nickname to me?

“I’m terrible at remembering names,” I say out loud.

“It would seem so. As for him, I think he’s likely to be very powerful, but it’s been decades since he had to fight seriously, from what I’ve heard. I had hoped I could awaken his old fighting spirit and we could fight, but he dislikes me quite a lot for some reason.”

“Tell me more about him. I’m curious.”

“There isn’t much I can say. Long ago, he was a mentor to two of our current Champions. He and the Vice Director also used to fight together under the Champion Angar before he died.”

“So who are the baddies here? The current Absolute, or Champion Angar, who tried to become Absolute?”

“History is written by the victors. I believe you know what that means. Both sides committed terrible atrocities. The Vice Director and her black unit interfered with and destroyed the main defensive array of the capital, which allowed Champion Angar to kill tens of thousands. The Tyrant Hywell was known for killing his own forces if they tried to stop fighting or enact a retreat.”

“What about the current Absolute?”

“As a Champion, he was more craft-oriented. For a long time, he acted as a neutral party and created and sold items to powerful people on both sides. Then one day, all of those items exploded while generally killing or crippling their owners, and he appeared as a new force and pushed for the title of Absolute.”

“You don’t seem too bothered by this.”

To that, he tilts his head in a confused way. “Why should I care? I had no ties to them. I understand some people prefer that I at least act shocked to fit into society. I can do that, sure, if I have a goal that requires it, but it’s not how I feel.”

I sigh. A demon, after all.

“Why don’t you try to attack me with stealth? Or come up with some bullshit plan to work with the others to kill me?” I ask.

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“Do not insult me,” he snorts. “While human, you have two hearts, and each one is certainly better than some of the demons’ I’ve met. More than that, you fight like one of us. There are purists among my people who wouldn’t care one whit, but some like me give people like you the same respect we’d give a half-demon or even a demon.”

“But you would kill me if you could?”

“In a proper fight, yes.”

“Shouldn’t I do the same and kill you to prevent that from happening in the future?”

Again, he seems a bit surprised. “It’s something you could have done ever since the start, and you decided not to for your own reasons.”

“So you wouldn’t mind dying the next time we fight?”

“If I die, I die. I just wish for it to be the best fight of my life.”

“Of course you would say that,” I mutter, still watching him. “If you had to explain how demons think, not just act, but actually think, what would you say?”

Feran scratches behind his horn like he’s trying to remember something. “You humans always want structure. A definition. We demons don’t all hate humans, if that’s what you’re asking. Some do, sure. Others don’t. We demons start from instinct. From pride. From strength. A wolf doesn’t hate the rabbit, it just eats.”

“And if the rabbit fights back?”

“Then it’s not a rabbit,” he replies simply and actually chuckles at that. Low and dry. “It’s not personal. We just expect strength to prove itself.”

“Yeah. That’s a very healthy societal model.”

He leans forward slightly, hands steepled like he’s mimicking a human professor again. “You keep trying to think of us in human terms. We’re not corrupted humans, but something else entirely. Born from different laws.”

“And yet here you are, in a nice, cushy, Academy job. And pants.”

“I adapt. Unlike most humans, I can.”

“Let’s say I kill you for real in the next fight,” I say. “Are you okay with that?”

”If you can and feel the need, then I deserve it for trying to challenge you. It’s something I’ve accepted since the first time I fought you.”

“You say that, but you’d still claw at my throat as you died.”

“Naturally.”

I never thought of myself as particularly eloquent, so it’s probably partially my fault, but it’s hard to get a proper explanation out of him. At some point, I can “feel it.” I instinctively understand what he means when he speaks of the rule of the strongest and the respect due to proper demons, or people like me who, in his eyes, are at a level similar to half-demons.

Simply put, the stronger you are, the more demons will listen to you.

I’m willing to bet that if you became the strongest person to ever exist and told all demons to wear pink sundresses for the rest of their lives, they’d do it.

They would even admire you for it. They’d fight anyone who would mock the order.

And the entire time, they’d keep challenging you and trying to kill you, smiling as they died in the duels.

What a bunch of lunatics.

But isn’t that kind of cute? At least a little bit?

I shake my head and change the topic.

“Tell me more about your kind,” I ask. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re all wired the same way or if you’re just the academic version of a maniac.”

Feran hums. “Depends. There are many factions. Some demons go by their instinct mainly. Pack and hunt types, always trying to find the most dangerous environment possible to live in. Others, like me, follow our old war orders. There are purists who don’t respect anyone except other demons. Bloodline elitists. There are even demons who think peace is worth something. We avoid those.”

“Do they get laughed at or eaten?”

“Both. In either order.”

It takes me a while to realize it’s a joke. His expression tells me heʼs very proud of it, and he even giggles like the lunatic he is. Probably some kind of inside joke among demons.

After that, he coughs up blood a few more times before leaving to get healed by the Head Healer. Judging by how fast he runs, he really might die in the next few minutes if he doesnʼt find the guy.

Left alone, I turn my attention back to examining the flooring of the huge chamber Iʼve found myself in.

Professor Feran survives and victoriously returns the next day, just to get beaten up all over again.

This time, I use mana mostly to push him into using void energy. I don’t think it would be that easy for me to gain it myself, but I observe it anyway, even if only to improve my disruption process. There are a few things I can take inspiration from, so that’s good.

I also get a better sense of how it feels and how to face it. Primordial void energy is very versatile, and it can certainly be terrifying. It’s powerful, hard to detect, and it affects almost everything, primordial energies, fragments, mana.

It’s kind of fun. Someone who uses void energy has an advantage over a person who relies on mana, but they can’t do much against someone who focuses on physical stats, like Jean or Tacita. Then again, those physical stat junkies tend to struggle against mana users... okay, maybe not the best examples.

Jean’s trait makes him oppressive even against someone who relies on mana, and Tacita is... well... scary. Thankfully, those two are rare edge cases.

While I spend my time focused on that, the loop stretches on until the 14th day, before it resets.

In the next loop, I spend a bit more time examining the Sweatbox and its challenges, and actually get pretty good at them. To avoid looking like a lazy ass, I also start thinking about the floor quest.

By now, we’ve put most of the pieces together and have been getting close to figuring out what the hell is going on. I’m not shameless enough to take credit, Sophie, Izzy, and the twins did most of the work. With Sophie’s mind-bending stuff and the twinsʼ skill in espionage and deception, they’re a perfect fit for this floor.

Of course, I helped. A little.

Izzy also shares some things with me about Min-Jae, stuff that worries her, and I get why after hearing them. Apparently, it’s been a while since the others started keeping an eye on him and protecting him without him even realizing it.

It’s kind of like what happened with Tess back in the Mana Desert. The others are giving Min-Jae space to choose what he wants, to make mistakes, and to indulge himself.

It’s dangerous, of course. Spending this much time around someone we suspect might be a Candidate can’t be safe. But stuff like that is par for the course in Hell difficulty.

Whatever happens, this floor is slowly heading toward its end. And a very explosive one, if the Candidate who keeps stealing my thermonuclear warhead has anything to say about it.