?”The human senses—pain, sight, hearing, taste, smell, and so on—are all directly controlled by the brain. This isn’t particularly profound knowledge, yet few pay attention to it, mainly because it has nothing to do with mana.”

“But I do.”

“For a long time, I pondered—if I ever got the chance to kill you, how should I proceed? Death by a thousand cuts? Burning? No, none of these would suffice!” Greg’s voice was soft, almost gentle, yet the words carried a venomous intent.

“I wanted you to die in greater agony! I wanted you to repent amidst endless suffering!”

“Finally, I found a way, cough cough, or more accurately, I saw it.”

Droplets of blood spattered on Soma’s face as Greg’s beard became thoroughly soaked with blood.

“Taking control of someone’s neural interface with mana, then, you can do whatever you wish! It doesn’t require finely detailed manipulation to inflict tremendous pain!”

Veins bulged on Soma’s face as Greg began to laugh, controlling the mana to directly stimulate Soma’s nerves.

“How does it feel! The pain magnified tenfold! This is far more stimulating than being torn apart limb by limb!”

Greg laughed maniacally, resembling a demon in his frenzy.

“You… are becoming me.”

Soma laughed too, baring his teeth stained red with blood, forcing out each word through clenched teeth.

“You are becoming me!”

When a soul witnesses enough darkness, its most likely fate is not ascension but descent.

Greg laughed wildly, increasing the mana output in his hand.

Veins on Soma’s face multiplied, his facial muscles involuntarily spasming, eyes bloodshot, body trembling.

No one could imagine what he was enduring.

The method Greg discovered came from an article long abandoned, discarded because the technique was deemed too horrifying.

It could easily shatter a person’s spirit.

Soma’s body twitched for half a minute before finally stilling.

His face was contorted beyond recognition, muscles twisted from excessive contraction.

A demon died, silently.

Apart from Greg, it might take a long while before others hear of it, or perhaps they never would.

Greg let out a dry laugh, releasing his grip on Soma’s neck, leaning back.

Thump, thump.

Two soft sounds echoed; one was Greg’s body collapsing, the other, Soma’s head bursting open, his boiling brain matter scattering everywhere.

Greg lay atop Soma’s gradually cooling corpse, his hollow eye sockets staring blankly into the void.

He, too, had finally become a demon.

…

Lorinda, Oak Street.

As Red Eye and Sorovo emerged from the tavern, Howard’s first instinct was to glance towards the concealed rooftop where Ali was positioned.

He feared Ali might not restrain himself from charging out, which could sabotage their entire plan, with his chances of survival being virtually nil.

Perhaps reason prevailed, for Ali didn’t come into his line of sight, the seemingly fragile yet resolute elf had managed to control himself.

Pausing, Howard shifted his gaze towards Red Eye and Sorovo on the street.

What would happen with these two standing together?

Having learned of Sorovo’s personality, deeds, and identity from Antalya, Howard didn’t believe Red Eye’s appearance was for a casual chat.

A fierce battle seemed the more likely scenario, which was exactly what Antalya hoped for—a situation where both parties would inflict mutual damage was preferable for them.

With this thought, Howard carefully moved to a more shadowed area, leaning into the darkness.

To play the fisherman, one must adopt the fisherman’s patience.

A lack of caution could easily alert the prey, turning the fisherman into a fool rather than a sage.

Just as Howard settled in to watch the unfolding drama from his hidden vantage point, a command from Antalya left him stunned.

“Howard, Ali, move closer to the battlefield, be ready to support Sorovo at any moment!”

“Why?”

“Received!”

Two voices responded simultaneously through the communication crystal, the first question came from Howard, the second affirmation from Ali.

Excitement was unmistakable in Ali’s voice, a contrast to Howard’s bewilderment.

“Why?” After a pause, Howard asked again.

“Isn’t our plan to follow Red Eye’s lead to Lilianne in the end? If we help Sorovo capture Red Eye, how are we supposed to find Lilianne?”

Their actions up to this point were all in the interest of preserving the adventure group’s reputation.

Although the group remained underground, the repercussions of a direct confrontation with Harry on the group were unpredictable.

“This is part of the plan. If Red Eye kills Sorovo, it won’t benefit us in any way! Execute the plan, Howard!”

Antalya’s explanation seemed stretched, yet Howard was not in a position to question further.

He wasn’t a decision-maker in the planning, and although he could raise objections, the final decision still rested with Antalya.

“Received.”

With that acknowledgment, Howard began to slowly retreat.

Approaching the battlefield meant not moving directly forward but circling around to cautiously approach from the side.

A straight advance would inevitably lead to being spotted.

Descending from the roof on the opposite side, Howard jogged along the deserted streets, pondering Antalya’s explanation.

This block had been temporarily cleared under the guise of “conducting confidential official business” by Sorovo’s men, which explained the lack of patrons at the Blossom Pub.

Clearly, Antalya had some undisclosed plans.

What could these plans be?

Ultimately, Howard realized he didn’t fully grasp Antalya’s true intentions.

Antalya’s identity and their trust in each other were based solely on her word.

Recalling Antalya’s ruthless demeanor in battle, Howard involuntarily touched the back of his neck.

While the trust remained, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of fear at times.

Howard navigated through the complex maze of streets and alleys, and though he didn’t utilize mana, his speed, fueled purely by physical strength, was no less than that of any preparatory-level magus.

He wondered if all magi were like this or if he was an exception.

The clash between Sorovo and Red Eye erupted just as Howard began to move, with neither party attempting to conceal their presence.

The intense fluctuations of mana were so palpable that Howard, even over a hundred meters away, could sense them clearly.

The battle seemed to escalate to a fever pitch from the outset, with neither side showing any inclination to hold back.

Estimating the distance and direction, Howard climbed back onto a rooftop and moved a short distance across it.

The street housing the Blossom Pub came back into his view.

Sorovo’s situation appeared grim.

The standoff was brief; Sorovo wielded an unremarkable dagger, about a foot long, with a single-edged blade that curved slightly, culminating in an upturned tip designed to slice through joints without getting stuck.

Red Eye, on the other hand, was empty-handed, even the curved sword he initially carried was nowhere to be seen.

However, Sorovo sported several cuts while Red Eye had what appeared to be a bruise from a blunt force impact.

Howard scratched his face, puzzled by the situation.

The wounds on both individuals clearly didn’t match the weapons they wielded, almost as if they were self-inflicted.

What was happening here? Had the contest not of skill, but of who could be more ruthless?

…

Sorovo’s gaze was fixed on Red Eye, his focus trembling slightly, the images in his eyes blurring and sharpening with each breath. 𝘪𝘦.𝘤𝑜

His limbs remained strong, his mana surged powerfully, and his mind was still sharp and reliable.

Yet, a faint scent of death lingered around him.

His situation was dire.

Although Red Eye also sported bruises, they were inconsequential compared to his.

Those bruises, not affecting any internal organs or muscle groups, could fully heal in half a day!

“Shall we continue?” Red Eye asked, a slight smile on his face as he raised his right hand, seemingly holding something.

Oddly, Sorovo found himself raising his own hand too, not the right but his empty left hand.

Despite Sorovo’s efforts to control his arm, it was futile; his left hand followed Red Eye’s right, lifting at a steady pace to form a fist.

“No answer? Then I’ll take that as a yes.”

Red Eye chuckled, his right fist crashing into his own body without holding back.

The punch landed with a dull thud, Red Eye’s eye twitching at the impact.

Bang—

Just as his hand had been raised involuntarily before, Sorovo lost control of his left hand, only to watch as it accelerated under the force of his muscles, punching his own abdomen.

It felt as though something had violently struck his gut, his stomach churned, muscles spasmed, and acid rushed to Sorovo’s mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Sorovo suppressed the pain: “This trick is pointless! Red Eye, what exactly are you trying to do?”

To a magus, ordinary physical injuries were meaningless.

Red Eye’s strange trick, which could control the body but not the flow of mana, meant that although Sorovo’s wounds looked severe, a couple of days of rest would heal him without leaving a scar.

𝑖𝘦.𝑐𝘰𝘮