CHAPTER 48: CHAPTER 48: THE DEMON’S EVALUATION

Gareth wiped blood from his mouth and settled into a proper combat stance, his earlier arrogance replaced by wary respect. "Lucky shot, slave-blood," he spat, though his voice lacked its previous confidence. "But now I’m done playing around."

Golden light began to emanate from Gareth’s body as he channeled his aura, the energy crackling around him like visible electricity. His sword gleamed with enhanced power, while his muscles swelled with supernatural strength.

Mira moved to call the fight, recognizing that things had escalated far beyond a simple evaluation, but movement in the observation window caught her eye. A figure stood in the shadowed viewing area, someone who had arrived without announcement but whose presence commanded absolute attention.

Helena Voss.

The Assistant Head rarely observed routine evaluations personally, but something had drawn her here. Mira caught the subtle gesture from the observation window, a slight shake of the head that clearly meant let them continue.

What Helena didn’t reveal was what had truly brought her to this room. She had been in her office reviewing reports when it hit her, a wave of bloodlust so pure and concentrated that it had made her skin crawl with primal fear. It was the kind of killing intent that no human should be capable of generating, the psychic pressure of a true apex predator.

She had followed that aura like a bloodhound following a scent, and it had led her here. To this unassuming Dra’kesh who stood in the center of the training room like death given form.

"Now you die!" Gareth roared, launching himself forward in a technique that made his earlier charge look restrained.

Sword Rush [Lightning Strike].

His blade became a blur of motion wreathed in crackling energy, the technique designed to overwhelm opponents through sheer speed and power. The sword carved luminous trails through the air as Gareth closed the distance in the blink of an eye, his aura-enhanced strike capable of cleaving through steel.

But as the veteran warrior bore down on him with lethal intent, something shifted in Yomi’s expression. The mild disappointment was replaced by something far more dangerous, a cold fury that spoke of his true nature finally stirring to wakefulness.

How dare this insect look down on others, Yomi thought, his demonic heritage responding to the veteran’s racist contempt with murderous intent. How dare he think himself superior when he crawls on his belly like the worm he is.

Yomi’s hand moved to his side in a motion that suggested drawing a blade, though no weapon was visible. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

「Heavenly Demon’s Shadow – Frozen Under Heaven」 (天魔の影・天の下に凍る)

The effect was instantaneous and overwhelming.

A tidal wave of oppressive spiritual pressure exploded outward from Yomi’s position, flooding the training room with power that made reality itself seem to recoil. The air grew thick and suffocating, charged with such malevolent energy that the walls began to frost over despite the room’s warmth.

Yomi’s appearance transformed as the technique manifested. His eyes blazed with crimson light, the pupils elongating into demonic slits while the irises burned like stars against the suddenly pitch-black shadows that wreathed his face. His mouth stretched into a predatory grin that revealed teeth as sharp as razors, each one gleaming with an otherworldly hunger.

The spiritual pressure that emanated from him was beyond anything that should exist in the mortal realm, the psychic weight of someone who had once commanded legions, who had stood atop mountains of his enemies’ corpses, who had earned the title of Heavenly Demon through acts that defied comprehension.

Gareth’s Lightning Strike faltered mid-charge as the oppressive aura crashed over him like a physical force. Cold sweat broke out across his skin despite the supernatural energy still crackling around his blade. His body, which had been moving with aura-enhanced speed just moments before, suddenly felt as though it were trapped in thick honey.

His muscles refused to obey. His breathing became labored. The sword that had been descending with lethal intent now trembled in his grip as primal terror overrode years of combat training.

Yomi approached with casual, unhurried steps, his demonic visage a study in controlled malevolence. Each footfall echoed in the oppressive silence like the toll of a funeral bell. When he reached the paralyzed warrior, he extended a single finger and placed it gently against Gareth’s chest.

The touch was barely perceptible, no more pressure than one might use to test the surface of still water. But the effect was devastating.

A ripple of pure force emanated from the point of contact, spreading outward like waves across a disturbed pond. Gareth’s aura shattered like glass, his enhanced strength evaporating as the technique overwhelmed his defenses completely.

Then he was airborne.

The veteran warrior flew across the training room like a discarded doll, his body tumbling through the air before slamming into the far wall with enough force to leave a human-shaped crater in the reinforced padding. He hit the floor and lay still, not unconscious but utterly paralyzed by the residual spiritual pressure that continued to press down on him like the weight of mountains.

The training room fell into absolute silence.

Mira stood frozen at her position, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the impossible scene before her. The veteran warrior who had terrorized dozens of evaluation candidates lay helpless against the wall, while the Dra’kesh who had seemed so unassuming now radiated power that made her very soul recoil in terror.

In the observation window, Helena Voss gripped the railing with white knuckles, her professional composure cracking as she witnessed something that challenged every assumption she had ever made about the nature of power in this world.

Yomi’s demonic features slowly faded as he reined in his spiritual pressure, the crimson glow leaving his eyes as shadows retreated to their proper places. When he looked down at Gareth’s trembling form, his expression had returned to its previous calm neutrality.

"The evaluation is complete," he said simply, his voice carrying no trace of the otherworldly authority that had shaken the very foundations of the room moments before.

The training room remained locked in absolute silence, the oppressive spiritual pressure still clinging to the air like smoke after a fire. Mira stood frozen, her entire body trembling as she stared at the impossible scene before her.

Her mind struggled to process what she had witnessed. The bloodlust that had rolled off the Dra’kesh, the way reality itself seemed to bend around his technique, the sheer impossibility of what had just occurred, it defied everything she thought she knew about power scales and racial limitations.

"I... the evaluation..." she stammered, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to return to protocol while her hands shook uncontrollably.

Behind the observation window, Helena Voss stepped back from the railing, her sharp mind racing as she processed the implications of what she had just witnessed. Her initial assessment crumbled completely in the face of this new evidence.

A-class? No. Her thoughts moved with clinical precision even as her pulse hammered in her throat. That pressure... that technique... even S-class adventurers don’t generate that kind of aura.