Chapter 276: Questions and Punishments.

Fafnir was alone in Gram’s inner world when the silence began to bother her again.

That place had always been the same to her. A space too vast to be called merely the inside of a sword, yet too enclosed to be called a world. There were mountains of gold scattered like artificial hills, shallow rivers of ancient coins accumulated over eons, and piles of treasure that filled almost the entire visible horizon. Gems, crowns, artifacts, grimoires, jewelry, weapons, and things whose value couldn’t even be measured by ordinary wealth rested there, untouched by the passage of time.

"If my body is real, are these treasures real too?" she murmured, standing atop a hill of coins, arms crossed as she gazed at her surroundings with a confusion she still couldn’t hide—even from herself.

That question had been nagging at her ever since her conversation with Victor. Until recently, her logic had been simple: she had been killed; her soul had been imprisoned within Gram; her body and all her possessions had been lost to the outside world. It was a cruel explanation, but a simple one. Now, everything had changed. If Victor was right—and he seemed to truly believe what he was saying—then she hadn’t died. She had been sealed away.

"If I was sealed away—body and all..." she said softly, taking a step forward across the coins, which clinked beneath her feet. Her expression darkened as her mind cycled through possibilities without arriving at a satisfactory answer. "Then why the hell did all *this* come along with me?"

She climbed down from the gold pile with slow steps, letting her fingers graze a row of ancient, half-open chests. The contents of each one could drive kings mad with greed. There was far more than gold and silver there. There were powerful grimoires, lost techniques, alchemical ingredients preserved by seals that defied time, enchanted jewels, training artifacts, and weapons that—even today—would make monsters and warriors tremble at the mere mention of their names.

Fafnir continued walking among her possessions, her brow furrowed.

It had always been her treasure, yet for two thousand years, it had been a dead treasure. She could see, sense, recognize, and remember it, but she could not truly touch it as she wished. Now, after binding herself to Victor, things seemed different. She was still tethered to the sword, but she no longer felt as blind as before. For the first time in ages, she could entertain the possibility that all of this might not be merely a memory trapped alongside her.

"If all this is real..." she murmured, crouching before a smaller pile of weapons and pushing aside some ordinary spears and swords until she found what she sought. Her hand rested upon the dark scabbard of a heavy longsword, one wrapped in an aura that felt unpleasant even to someone like her. "Then there is much here that should never leave this place."

She drew the weapon from among the other relics and studied the blade closely.

Yasutsuna Dojigiri.

The demonic sword possessed a sinister sheen. It was not simply evil, nor merely heavy with energy; it carried a type of impurity born of accumulated blood and hatred, as if centuries of slaughter had seeped into the metal and refused to leave. The blade had bathed in the blood of Oni countless times, and the name of Shuten-doji seemed to cling to it still, like an ancient curse. "This thing is dangerous—even for me." She spoke, turning the sword slightly to examine the dark reflection on the blade itself. Her tone held no fear, only irritation—a pragmatic acknowledgment that certain objects brought nothing but trouble to anyone who touched them. "If this is the real one, I really ought to just destroy it."

Fafnir stared at the Yasutsuna Dojigiri for a few seconds, appraising the weapon like someone who knew all too well the weight of a cursed treasure. Then, losing patience, she grimaced and simply tossed the sword aside, as if discarding trash.

The weapon landed among other items of immense value with a sharp clatter, sliding across a pile of ancient shields before coming to rest partially buried in a heap of coins.

"It doesn’t make a difference anyway," she muttered, running a hand through her hair as she moved on. Her mood soured slightly when she realized that even the most practical conclusion kept running up against the same problem. "Even if it is the real one, I can’t use it for anything right now."

She walked a few more meters among the treasures and then stopped again.

Her mind was still stuck on the same question. If the humans had managed to seal *her* away, why seal the entire nest as well? It was overkill. It was wasteful. It was an absurd amount of effort, even for those intent on neutralizing her. Sealing just her body would have been enough to prevent any immediate return. So why drag along mountains of gold, legendary weapons, grimoires, rare materials, and everything else?

"Was it arrogance?" she asked in a low voice, speaking more to organize her own thoughts than in expectation of an answer. Her gaze drifted down to a pile of ancient coins, and she kicked a few of them absentmindedly. "Or were they stupid enough to value coins more than the truly valuable treasures?"

Fafnir could easily imagine either scenario.

Humans had a strange relationship with wealth. Many viewed gold and silver as the pinnacle of any hoard, when in reality, those were the least interesting parts of a collection like hers. True value lay in techniques, special weapons, impossible-to-find materials, and relics that condensed entire eras of knowledge and power. If they had sealed it all away out of blind greed, then they were idiots. If they had done it deliberately, then there was something about that decision she didn’t yet understand.

She sighed—weary of going around in circles in her mind—and simply let herself collapse onto a broad pile of gold coins.

The gold sank slightly under her weight and made a pleasant sound, but even that couldn’t do much to lift her spirits. Fafnir settled in as if on a makeshift bed, crossed one leg over the other, and turned onto her side, burying one hand amidst the cold coins while resting her head on the other.

"I’m bored," she murmured, gazing into the void above the mountains of treasure; her voice came out lower and more honest than she had intended. Her boredom wasn’t the kind born of a few hours without distraction. It was the weight of centuries spent motionless, with a mind too wide awake and a world too far away. "Why don’t you just wake up so we can go wander around?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips forming a small, involuntary pout, before opening them again.

Victor had entered her life like a walking disaster—a lunatic devoid of common sense who smiled in the face of an enraged dragon and spoke of marriage as if proposing a casual stroll. Yet, he had done something no one else had managed in two thousand years: he had shaken the foundations of her prison. He had brought novelty, movement, and a promise so absurd that the most infuriating part was her desire to see if he could actually keep it.

"I want to see new treasures..." she said softly, almost as if confessing something shameful to herself, sinking her face a little deeper into the coins. Her tail moved slowly behind her, betraying a restlessness the rest of her body pretended not to show. "I’ve been sealed away for so long..."

Silence returned after that.

Fafnir remained lying atop the gold, her face partially hidden among the coins, her thoughts circling endlessly. For the first time in a long while, however, the silence didn’t feel merely empty. Now, it was tinged with anticipation. She was still trapped. She was still irritated. She still didn’t quite understand what had happened to her body, her nest, and her treasures.

But Victor had promised to get her out of there.

...

[Celestial Divine Cult, Demonic Faction.]

Rakshasa sat at a low table, eating calmly as if absolutely nothing of consequence had happened over the past few days.

The residence used by the Heavenly Demon within the Eastern Domain was quiet at that hour. Outside, disciples were training in courtyards separated by dozens of meters, but the formations surrounding the house blocked out almost all the noise. Rakshasa seemed quite at ease with the situation. She had a bowl of rice before her and several side dishes spread across the table; she ate slowly, without any rush.

Yu Jin Cheon sat on the opposite side.

He wasn’t eating.

He was simply watching his daughter.

Rakshasa had noticed this minutes ago but chose to ignore it.

The problem was that her father possessed an irritating amount of patience.

"How long are you going to keep pretending you didn’t do anything?" Yu Jin Cheon asked, finally breaking the silence while keeping his arms crossed over his chest.

Rakshasa chewed calmly before swallowing.

"Father, go to sleep," she replied without even looking up, picking up another piece of meat with her chopsticks. "I really don’t feel like having this conversation again."

Yu Jin Cheon narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You slaughtered an entire city." He spoke in a controlled tone, making it clear that the matter wouldn’t be forgotten simply because his daughter was tired of discussing it.

Rakshasa paused her chopsticks for a second.

Then, she went back to eating.

"If you want to blame someone, go personally scold the fucking Werewolf King," she replied, now looking at her father. "It was his race that decided to launch a terrorist attack in a place where I happened to be."

Yu Jin Cheon let out a sigh. "That doesn’t make everyone in that city responsible." He countered, watching his daughter’s expression, which remained almost entirely indifferent.

Rakshasa set her chopsticks down on the bowl.

"I never said it did," she replied simply, resting one arm on the table. "I said I’m not interested in discussing this for the twentieth time."

The Heavenly Demon fell silent for a few seconds.

Rakshasa knew her father didn’t approve of what she had done.

She also knew he understood perfectly well why she had done it.

That was likely why their arguments never went anywhere.

"And let me tell you one thing," Rakshasa continued, leaning back slightly. "If something like this happens again, you’d better be prepared."

Yu Jin Cheon frowned.

"Prepared for what?" he asked, though he knew his daughter well enough to realize he probably wouldn’t like the answer.

Rakshasa smiled.

"Because I’m going to spend every day of my eternity training," she replied, and the calm tone of her voice made the promise all the clearer. "I will break through to the Transcendent Realm, enter the Divine Realm, and once I do, I will destroy every werewolf in this world."

Yu Jin Cheon closed his eyes.

He remained that way for a few seconds.

"Do you hear what you’re saying?" he asked when he looked at her again, appearing more weary than angry.

"Perfectly," Rakshasa replied, picking up her chopsticks and resuming her meal.

Her father ran a hand over his face.

"You’re exactly like your mother," Yu Jin Cheon remarked after a moment, shaking his head. "Arrogant, proud, and too emotional to admit when you’re in the wrong." Rakshasa raised an eyebrow.

"Speaking of her..." she replied, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. "Where is that woman?"

Yu Jin Cheon immediately realized what she was doing.

Even so, he answered.

"Secluded training," he explained, resting an elbow on the table. "She went into seclusion just before you returned."

Rakshasa grimaced slightly.

"So she didn’t even come to welcome her own daughter?" she asked, looking genuinely offended now.

"She didn’t know when you’d arrive," Yu Jin Cheon replied matter-of-factly. "And you didn’t let us know, either."

Rakshasa opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

"That doesn’t matter," she decided, looking away before her father could point out the contradiction.

Yu Jin Cheon nearly smiled.

"She should be out in a few weeks," he continued, deciding not to tease her too much. "Maybe sooner, depending on her progress."

Rakshasa fell into thought for a few seconds.

Then she murmured:

"I hope she doesn’t meet Victor when he comes to pick me up." She spoke almost to herself as she absentmindedly stirred her rice.

Yu Jin Cheon froze.

His eyes slowly shifted toward his daughter.

"...What did you say?" he asked, now paying close attention.

Rakshasa looked up.

"Hm?" She feigned ignorance, even though she knew perfectly well which part had caught his attention.

Yu Jin Cheon pointed at her.

"You just said you don’t want your mother to meet Victor," he replied, watching her every reaction. "Why?"

Rakshasa shrugged.

"I’m afraid he’ll seduce her, too." She answered with absurd nonchalance before putting another bite of food into her mouth.

Yu Jin Cheon remained completely motionless.

Rakshasa chewed.

Swallowed.

Her father kept staring at her.

"What?" she asked, noticing he hadn’t looked away.

It took Yu Jin Cheon a moment to respond.

"Did I hear that right?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. "Did you just say you’re afraid your mother will be seduced by the man you’re involved with?"

Rakshasa thought for a moment.

"Basically," she replied, seeing no issue with that conclusion.

Yu Jin Cheon kept staring at her.

"Do you have so little faith in your own mother?" he asked, beginning to look personally offended.

Rakshasa gave another small shrug.

"It’s not a lack of faith in her," she explained, going back to stirring her plate. "It’s an excess of faith in him."

The Heavenly Demon opened his mouth. Rakshasa continued before he could speak.

"Victor has a problem," she explained with great seriousness. "Powerful women start out saying they don’t like him, then they spend too much time around him, and before they know it, they’re emotionally involved."

Yu Jin Cheon spent a few seconds trying to decide if this was some kind of joke.

Rakshasa didn’t seem to be joking.

"Did that happen to you?" he asked, still watching his daughter.

"Not exactly," Rakshasa replied, pausing briefly before adding, "I already liked him before I realized it was a problem."

Yu Jin Cheon let out a slow breath.

"That definitely doesn’t reassure me," he remarked, leaning back in his chair.

Rakshasa smiled slightly.

"Dad, be realistic," she said, picking up her bowl. "The chances of Mom leaving you for another man are higher than the chances of the Werewolf King defeating the Vampire King."

Yu Jin Cheon fell silent.

Rakshasa went on eating.

A few seconds passed.

"Child," he said, his tone now dangerously calm.

"Hmm?" she replied without looking up.

"You’re grounded," Yu Jin Cheon stated, turning away with a stern expression. "Go to the second demon cave and isolate yourself there."

"Fine, that won’t be a problem anyway; I’m already sleepy," Rakshasa said, completely unconcerned.