CHAPTER 72: DEMON MARK

Sergei sat in his quarters, a thick report spread out before him. His fingers tapped lightly against the desk as he scanned the final page. A sigh escaped his lips.

"What a headache..." he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Just days ago, he had been lecturing in the academy, living a relatively quiet life. Then, out of nowhere, the Council’s orders had pulled him here—temporarily in charge. Temporarily or not, the responsibility weighed heavily.

His eyes lingered on one particular line in the report.

"Li Yang injured during breakthrough attempt," the official documents said. But his father’s private report contradicted it.

"Attacked. Targeted. Someone wanted him out of the way. And Bloodfort’s name keeps surfacing in whispers... Conspiracy. Always conspiracy. Tch, what a headache..."

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples.

"No matter. By tonight, I’ll know who’s moving behind the curtains."

Suddenly, the sharp rap of knuckles on his door echoed.

"Enter," Sergei commanded.

The door swung open. Four figures stepped inside: Colonel Mustafa, Colonel Mirella, Elena, and another officer. They straightened and saluted.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning," Sergei replied curtly, his gaze immediately falling on Mustafa. "Colonel Mustafa—you lead the Spear Corps. I have a task for you."

He slid a folded paper across the desk. Mustafa accepted it with a crisp salute. "At once, sir." The other officer followed him out.

Sergei’s attention then shifted to Mirella. His tone sharpened.

"Colonel Mirella, I’ve heard... disturbing news about your Sword Corps."

Mirella’s brows furrowed in confusion. "What news, sir?"

"That someone in your corps is acting as a spy... for the Demon Alliance."

The words hit the air like thunder. Mirella’s composure shattered. She shot up straight and barked, voice trembling with both rage and fear:

"No, sir! That is blasphemous! Impossible!"

"Silence."

The single word cracked like a whip. A wave of pressure spilled from Sergei’s presence, pressing the colonel down. Mirella’s knees almost buckled as she lowered her head, face pale.

"I said I heard it," Sergei continued, tone cold. "I am not yet certain. That is why I want you to lead the investigation. Because among the Sword Corps, you are one of the few deemed... honest."

Mirella swallowed hard, then straightened with forced calm. "Understood, sir. I will investigate. But let me say in advance—you will not find anything. My corps is the cleanest you will find."

"See that your words hold true," Sergei said, dismissing her with a wave.

Mirella and Elena both saluted before turning to leave.

As the door shut behind them, Sergei leaned back in his chair. For a moment, the mask of severity slipped. A faint grin tugged at his lips.

"Heh... so quick to defend, Mirella. The guilty always bark the loudest." His eyes narrowed, the grin twisting sharper. "Let’s see how long you last."

His mood shifted again, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

"Oh, and I heard that boy Ezra has arrived here as well..." He rose to his feet, amusement glinting in his gaze. "I should pay him a visit. Ahaha... this will be interesting."

____________________

Outside the Quarters

The door closed with a heavy thud. Elena’s face darkened. She stomped her foot against the stone floor, her voice bursting out before she could restrain it.

"How dare he?! The moment he arrives, he starts pointing fingers at us! Does he think the Sword Corps is some den of traitors?" Her fists shook in anger. "If a spy is actually found, do you know what it means? It means every Major, Colonel in our unit has failed their duty!"

Her tone rose, bitter with indignation. "Years of work, all the sacrifices our soldiers made, dragged through the mud just because some outsider wants to act high and mighty!"

Mirella’s teeth clenched. She forced herself to remain composed, though her own frustration seeped through her words.

"What can we do, Elena? He gave us an order. We have no choice but to carry it out."

Elena glared at the floor, seething, her nails digging into her palms.

"Still... it’s infuriating. To be judged like this—without proof, without respect. General Li Yang would never have treated us like this."

Mirella gave no reply, only a faint nod. Her eyes flickered, betraying a trace of unease.

___________________________

Meanwhile — Ezra

Ezra woke before dawn. His room was silent, save for the faint hum of the formations etched into the hotel walls. These weren’t ordinary lodgings—every floor of this place was designed to concentrate ambient mana, the kind of luxury only the wealthy or ambitious dared to afford.

Seated cross-legged, Ezra cultivated quietly, his breathing steady, the flow of mana coursing through his core smooth and refined. After an hour, his eyes flicked open, a sharp glint hidden beneath their calm surface.

He rose, shrugged on the overcoat resting across his chair, and stepped onto the balcony. A faint chill lingered in the air. He held a crystalline glass filled with a pale-blue mana drink, swirling it absently as he gazed across Bloodfort.

"I should take the Rank 5 breakthrough pill," he muttered to himself.

He had ordered it days ago, and the delivery was due this evening. Still, he hadn’t decided when to swallow it. Normally, he avoided pills like these—they left behind stubborn impurities that could cripple the next breakthrough, no matter how strong one’s core was. He had been careful, patient.

But patience only carried you so far.

"If Justin’s targeting me, I can survive with my current strength. But survive isn’t enough..." His grip tightened on the glass. "I want to kill him. And I want to know who’s pulling his strings."

As for the impurities, Ezra wasn’t worried. He already knew someone who could cleanse them when the time came. Elia Seraphine—healer, Rank 6, and the woman who would soon rise into Rank 7 territory. She had the power. She just didn’t know she’d be using it for him yet.

He checked his phone. Still no message from Cassy. His lips curled faintly.

"Tch. She’d better send it by tonight..."

The screen buzzed suddenly. Caller ID: Marcus.

Ezra frowned. Marcus? At this hour?

He answered.

"Ezra, I need your help," Marcus’s voice came, half-panicked, half-exhausted.

"I’m not in the capital," Ezra replied flatly.

"I know. Everyone in school knows you’re in Bloodfort—to meet your girlfriend."

Ezra’s mouth twitched. "...Who the hell said that?"

"Dravis. He told Lyria. Lyria told Evelyne. Evelyne told—well, you know how it goes. Whole academy knows now."

Ezra’s teeth ground silently. Motherfucker Dravis. He forced his tone polite. "Vacation. Not a girlfriend. Anyway, what do you want?"

Marcus exhaled heavily. "...I screwed up."

"Then say it straight."

"I... accidentally drank a love potion."

Ezra froze. "...What?"

"It was Lisa Gomez. You know, Daelen’s best friend. She gave me something, said it was a normal drink. I didn’t think twice. Next thing I knew, I was... aroused. By her. I even told Daelen, but he didn’t believe me. He just dragged her away. Now I don’t know what to do."

Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Unbelievable. You’ll drink anything someone hands you? Idiot. And then you bring these brainless problems to me?"

"You can insult me later," Marcus said desperately. "Please, Ezra. If my family finds out, they’ll be furious. I can’t let this spread."

Ezra leaned against the balcony rail, weighing it. "Tried an antidote?"

"Yes. Didn’t work. I think it’s magical. And... she’s also done something to Daelen. It’s like he’s under her spell too."

Ezra clicked his tongue. "Great. Just great."

"Please. You’re the only one I can ask."

"Listen, I have bigger things to handle right now. But... I know someone who might help."

"Who?"

"A hidden alchemist. You’ve never heard of him, but he’s good. Very good. If anyone can brew an antidote for that trash potion, it’s him."

Marcus sat up. "Where do I find him?"

"I don’t have an exact address. But I’ll send you what I have. Find him, or at least... restrain yourself until then."

"...Alright. Send it over. Thank you, Ezra."

The line cut.

Ezra lowered the phone, his reflection staring back at him in the black screen.

"What the fuck is going on?" he muttered. "Lisa Gomez doing this? That wasn’t in the plot. Not at all..."

His gut churned uneasily. Something big is about to happen.

_______________________

Meanwhile — Lisa

In a dimly lit room at the far end of the eastern wing, Lisa reclined lazily on her chair, a glass of red liquid swirling in her hand. A faint smile curled on her lips as she took a slow sip.

Daelen wasn’t here—he had rushed off to "handle something important," calling in family guards to watch over him. Marcus too was being shadowed by his household’s protectors. Yet Lisa felt no fear, no urgency. If anything, she looked amused.

"Glory to Lord Vorthas," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with twisted devotion.

Her smile widened as she set the glass down.

"Ah, dear Daelen... he thinks he’s clever. He thinks he’s seen through Lord Vorthas’ plan. But what I gave Marcus? That silly ’love potion’?" She chuckled, low and mocking. "That was just the tip of the iceberg. The more cautious you become, the deeper you’ll fall, Daelen."

She leaned back, laughing softly to herself. "Call your guards, call your family, surround yourself with protection. It’s all irrelevant. My work is already done."

Her fingernail tapped lightly against the rim of her glass, the red liquid inside catching the faint candlelight.

"Marcus believed he drank a love potion... but what flowed into his veins was no such thing." Her voice dropped into a reverent whisper. "It was the blood of Lord Vorthas himself. Demon blood. His body is already marked. His fate sealed."

Lisa raised the glass in a mocking toast, her grin stretching unnaturally wide.

"How can anyone escape, when Lord Vorthas is too cunning... too monstrous... far beyond what any of you fools can comprehend?"

She drained the glass in one final swallow, laughter spilling from her lips, cold and triumphant.