Chapter 196: The Demon Who Tried to Escape

Andras kept his gaze fixed on the young woman sitting near the wall.

*System. Show me her complete status.*

[Ding!]

[Name: Sephtis]

[Race: Demon]

[Class: Mage]

[Bloodline: Greater Demonic Bloodline (A-Rank)]

[Realm: Peak Fourth Circle Mage]

[Talent: Identity Assimilation (A-Rank)]

Andras examined the information without changing expression.

*Peak Fourth Circle.*

Her realm was higher than his own, and her bloodline was considerably stronger than that of an ordinary demon. Neither fact concerned him. He already knew her abilities, combat methods, and the full extent of her power. He had killed opponents whose realms surpassed his own. Sephtis would be no different.

His attention settled on her talent.

Identity Assimilation.

He remembered her from the original novel. She had never been one of the strongest demons, nor had she played a significant role in the main conflicts. Her value lay entirely in her ability. After killing someone, she could absorb their memories and assimilate their physical appearance, allowing her to assume their identity completely—experiences, knowledge, relationships, habits, everything necessary to move through human society without suspicion.

Aris Velloria was the perfect example.

Andras continued reading.

[Special Property: Memory Disposal]

[The user can selectively discard acquired memories at any time. Discarding memories does not affect the assimilated appearance or the ability to maintain the target’s identity.]

The System’s description confirmed what he already knew.

That single property was what made the talent truly valuable. He had always refused to absorb the memories of those he devoured. Memories carried more than information—they carried experiences, emotions, and fragments of another person’s identity. He wanted their power, not their lives bleeding into his own.

Sephtis’s talent offered a clean solution. He could take the memories he needed, extract the information, and discard the rest. The appearance would remain.

His thoughts shifted to another ability.

Clone.

He had already considered several applications for it. Combining it with Identity Assimilation opened possibilities far beyond simple combat or scouting. If Identity Assimilation could function through his clones, the results would be extraordinary.

Each clone could potentially maintain a different identity. One could infiltrate a noble household. Another could enter a powerful organization. A third could gather information from a distant territory while he remained elsewhere. If the talent could function through them, they would not be limited to ordinary disguises. They could become the people they replaced.

*This talent is worth acquiring.*

Then a colder thought followed.

*I could kill her right now.*

Sephtis sat alone, partially concealed by a support pillar. Most of the people around her were occupied with their injuries or the treatment of others. The opportunity was imperfect, but he was confident in his ability to end her. Her higher realm and stronger bloodline would not change the outcome.

If he wanted to, he could eliminate her and acquire both her talent and bloodline through Devouring.

However...

*There is no need to rush.*

Sephtis was more than a vessel carrying a useful ability. She was an infiltrator who had been operating inside human society. She knew the demon forces, their methods, and potentially the people directing their operations. She might also know where the surviving demons intended to go after this failure.

Killing her now would grant him her abilities. It would also destroy a potentially valuable source of information.

There was no reason to sacrifice that advantage.

He would acquire her talent later. For now, keeping her alive was more profitable. He would allow her to believe her identity remained undiscovered. Monitoring her would not be difficult. As Aris Velloria, she was a Class A student from a politically connected noble family. Her position within the academy would give him plenty of opportunities to observe her without attracting suspicion.

When the time came to take what he needed, she would have nowhere left to run.

His decision had nothing to do with mercy.

He simply had more to gain by letting her live a little longer.

Andras dismissed the status window. His gaze shifted to the bed beside him.

Seraphina was still asleep. Her silver hair rested against the pillow, and her breathing remained steady. The exhaustion from the battle had not completely left her face, but the worst of her injuries had been treated.

He watched her for a few seconds before leaning back

*One thing at a time.*

---

Far from the western shelter, beyond the damaged buildings and shattered courtyards, a lone figure stood in the ruins of a narrow passage.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in a thin, steady line. Black horns curved backward from his temples. Dark markings ran from his neck to his wrists like living brands, several of them already fading into pale, uneven streaks as the mana sustaining them continued to deteriorate.

The demon—known among his kind as Vareth—raised his right hand.

A faint distortion appeared in the air before vanishing. Even that small attempt cost him more mana than expected. He frowned.

He had already expended a considerable amount of mana creating the passage through which the invading force had entered Ambrose Academy. Slipping past the academy’s protective barrier had required considerable spatial manipulation. He had opened a fissure beyond the western perimeter, allowing twenty demons to pass through without breaking a single ward or triggering the detection formations.

The plan had worked.

But the situation had deteriorated far more quickly than expected. The Hero had been found, yet eliminating him had proven far more difficult than the reports suggested. Powerful instructors had interfered with ruthless efficiency. The demons sent to carry out the operation were being hunted down and killed one after another. The initial chaos that should have bought them time was disappearing.

Vareth clenched his fist hard enough for the claws to dig into his own palm.

*This mission is already lost.*

His orders had been clear: locate the Hero, kill him before he could grow stronger, and eliminate anyone who posed a future threat. The circumstances had changed. Continuing the operation would accomplish nothing if the remaining demons were simply slaughtered in the open.

He needed to leave. Immediately.

Vareth glanced toward the ruined buildings behind him. Smoke still drifted from several collapsed structures. Distant shouts and the occasional clash of steel still echoed across the academy grounds, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. He released a slow, controlled breath and gathered the remaining mana in his body.

A faint black glow surrounded his right hand. The air began to distort once more.

He focused every remaining fragment of concentration into the technique. Space itself resisted him, thicker and heavier than it had been during the initial opening. The strain of opening the earlier passage still lingered throughout his body.

A thin crack appeared. It stretched vertically, widening into a narrow fissure that revealed only darkness beyond.

*Finally.*

He increased the flow of mana, forcing the opening wider. The fissure stretched another fraction—

CRACK!

The spatial distortion shuddered violently. Reality twisted inward on itself like a collapsing throat before slamming shut. A vicious backlash tore through his right arm and into his chest. Vareth staggered backward, nearly losing his balance entirely. Blood sprayed from his mouth, spattering the cracked stone at his feet.

For several long seconds he remained bent forward, one hand pressed hard against the wall, the other hanging limp and trembling.

*Impossible...*

He had never been forced to push his talent this far. Spatial manipulation was his birthright, refined over decades. Yet the damage from opening the first passage had been far greater than he had calculated. He had already pushed his talent beyond its safe limits, and his physical condition was deteriorating by the minute. Trying to force another fissure would require more mana than he could safely spare. Another collapse of that magnitude might cripple him permanently—or kill him outright.

He slowly straightened, wiping the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His expression had gone dark.

*I need another route.*

He could attempt to reach the outer grounds and escape on foot, but that would take time. Instructors were still combing the academy for surviving demons, and several of them possessed enough strength to end him in a single exchange. In his current state, even a brief confrontation could prove fatal.

He needed distance. Cover. Anything that would buy him enough time to recover even a fraction of his strength.

A faint sound reached his ears.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Footsteps.

Vareth froze. They were coming from the passage behind him—slow, unhurried, but steadily approaching. He immediately suppressed what little mana he still had left and pressed himself against the damaged wall, melting into the deeper shadows between broken pillars.

The footsteps continued at the same measured pace.

Whoever was approaching did not seem to be in a hurry. That alone made the situation more dangerous. A panicked student would have been running. An injured instructor would have moved with more urgency. This measured approach suggested someone confident... or someone who already knew exactly where he was.

Vareth’s fingers tightened against the stone. An instructor? One of the academy’s stronger defenders? It did not matter. If they discovered him, he would have no choice but to fight. And in his current condition, even escaping afterward might prove impossible.

The footsteps stopped.

Silence settled over the ruined passage like a held breath.

Then a calm, almost conversational voice came from the other side of the broken wall.

"Found you."