There were 128 communication crystals meticulously arranged in the instructors' conference room—or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it the surveillance room. Not only did it monitor the hero disciples' every move, but it also allowed the instructors to respond swiftly whenever a powerful monster invaded the camp.
Under normal circumstances, only three or four guards were stationed there. But during the special trial, most instructors gathered inside. Some had even laid out bedding, turning the conference room into a makeshift living space.
At present, twenty instructors occupied the room—among them, Soymond, the survival instructor.
Of all the crystals, only twenty-eight focused on the training camp. The remaining hundred were scattered across a ten-kilometer radius around the camp, prepared for the worst-case scenario.
"That one..." Soymond muttered.
One of the crystals was malfunctioning. After flickering intermittently, its screen darkened completely. Positioned in a remote corner, it went unnoticed by most of the instructors. Even Soymond paid it little mind.
The Butterfly Forest was a mysterious place, and with countless relics and magic tools embedded in the land, its properties had grown increasingly complex. Communication disruptions were surprisingly common.
Only when more than five communication crystals failed did Soymond grow suspicious.
By then, the other instructors had also started to voice their concerns.
"What's wrong with the crystals?" one asked, rubbing his temple.
Another shrugged. "Isn't it a full moon tonight? Magic tools tend to act up around this time."
"But this many?" a third countered, arms crossed.
"It's probably nothing serious."
Such reassurances faded when twenty crystals failed. Even the most optimistic instructors sensed something was wrong.
"This doesn't feel right," someone muttered.
"Is someone among the hero disciples destroying them?" an instructor wondered aloud.
"It would be difficult for them to detect the hidden crystals..." another argued.
"But this can't be anything other than deliberate sabotage."
At that moment, the knights stepped forward.
"We will patrol the area. Where is the nearest affected area?"
"It is Area A-3.... Are you sure?"
"Of course. We'll be back in thirty minutes."
Yet an hour passed with no sign of them. By then, more than half of the crystals had failed.
I don't have a good feeling.
Beyond the creeping dread, Soymond felt another unease. In such an emergency, the one who should have been the loudest was conspicuously absent.
"Has anyone seen where Instructor Juan has gone?" Soymond asked.
"The martial arts instructor? I haven't seen him."
"Me neither."
"I saw him leave the conference room earlier."
Soymond looked in that direction and asked, "When was that?"
"I'm not really sure..."
Something was definitely off.
Upon closer inspection, not only Juan but several other Great Masters were missing—those who had recently been vocal in supporting him.
Soymond felt a surge of foreboding and left the room—or rather, he was about to.
"I'm here." Juan appeared at the entrance of the conference room.
Normally, Juan would be surrounded by people, but now there was only silence. His entire body was drenched in blood, though it was clear none of it was his.
"Instructor Juan, where did you come from? What did you do?" Soymond demanded.
Juan removed his bloodstained robe and answered, "You just sent knights to the forest, right?"
"Yes."
"I killed them. Then I came back," he said flatly.
"What...?"
At that moment, a figure lunged from among the instructors, moving with the swiftness and intensity of a wild beast.
"Instructor Tanko...!" Soymond shouted to stop him.
Yet the instant Tanko reached Juan, his body abruptly halted midair, as though trapped by something invisible. He swung his fists as if to strike an unseen opponent, but his blows only sliced through empty air.
"Stay still, Instructor Tanko." Juan's voice was calm. "You don't want to die yet."
"What did you do?"
"I haven't done anything yet. You're a valuable sacrifice. Of course, if you keep bothering me, I won't just hold back—"
Tanko launched a kick, but just before his foot struck Juan's face, a loud bang echoed through the room. Tanko was sent crashing into the wall.
"Stay still," Juan warned.
"Instructor Tanko!" Soymond rushed to his side, only for his expression to harden in horror. Tanko was dead.
"U-unbelievable..." Soymond stammered.
Tanko, a Great Warrior of the Grasslands and a Great Master, had been killed in a single blow.
"What the hell is this?!"
"Instructors, did you know? Just a century ago, physicians didn't realize that human blood has different types. When mixed, blood clots, and the patient dies. They didn't know this and performed reckless blood transfusions. How many died because of that ignorance?" Juan's voice echoed, cold and ominous.
Soymond stared at him in fear. "What... What are you talking about?"
"Ignorance is a tragedy," Juan said, his tone dark. "That's why Instructor Tanko is dead. He didn't know that attacking a priest during a ritual would invite divine punishment."
"A ritual?"
Someone forced himself to smile as he said, "C-come on, this joke has gone too far, Instructor Juan..."
" Haha. Still think this is a joke?"
"If not, then what is this?" Soymond's voice cracked. "I-Instructor Tanko died like this... How isn't that strange?"
Juan chuckled softly. "There's nothing strange about it. Everyone, isn't this just another Badniker tradition?"
Soymond finally grasped the situation. The man before them was undeniably an enemy.
"How dare you defile the Badnikers' name with that filthy mouth of yours?"
"Is there any reason I shouldn't? I'm merely upholding one of the Badnikers' ironclad rule."
"An ironclad rule?"
"Respect the strong." With those words, Juan stretched his arms. Black slime surged from the floor, consuming the instructors and knights indiscriminately.
"W-what is this...!"
"Don't panic! Get in formation!"
"A-attacking doesn't work!"
The slime moved organically, like a living creature, unharmed by blades, blessings, or magic. It ignored all resistance, advancing relentlessly before swallowing the instructors whole. Even as the viscous substance enveloped them, they struggled—pitifully, like animals trapped in a net.
Within moments, the slime had devoured every instructor in the room and receded.
"A god of disaster will soon appear here," Juan declared. "He is far stronger than the head of the Badniker family, the Iron-Blooded Lord. Therefore, submission is our only choice. So far... does anything seem strange?"
No one was left to answer.
***
The recording ended.
We stood in silence. Its contents were absurdly simple—they revealed the priest's identity.
"So the martial arts instructor was the mastermind," Charon muttered. "That's far beyond my expectations."
By his standards, it was unexpected.
To me, it wasn't that surprising. From the beginning, Juan's presence had unsettled me. In my experience, those who laughed when nothing was funny often had perverse personalities.
"Is this all the footage shows?"
"Seems like it."
Where had Juan gone afterward? And what had happened to the other surviving instructors? With no answers, Charon and I turned toward the stairs.
"Wait." Charon suddenly spoke. "The one upstairs is moving."
"What? Are they trying to escape?" I asked.
"No. They're on their way here. Their speed is ridiculously fast... They're already here—"
Footsteps echoed outside the door.
I channeled Fire Qi into my fist, and Charon lowered his stance subtly.
The conference room door creaked open.
"What? You're still alive?"
A weary-looking woman in a nun's uniform stood there. Her face was familiar—she was Junian, one of the Great Masters and the theology instructor.
Charon and I remained tense. Was she an enemy or an ally?
As we hesitated, Junian spoke in a weak voice. "I thought the Badnikers' reinforcements had arrived..."
Charon glanced at me, and I nodded.
Relaxing my stance, I asked, "Instructor Junian, what happened?"
"What instructor? Just Junian is fine. More importantly, do you have a cigarette?"
Should a priest even smoke?
I didn't understand the Sun Church's doctrines, but her frantic search for a cigarette among hero disciples suggested she wasn't entirely stable.
"There aren't any," I said.
"Really? Too bad."
"What exactly happened here? We saw Juan reveal his true colors—he even did that to the hunting instructor."
Junian nodded, murmuring, "You saw it? Ah. Did you use the communication crystals? Smart."
Then she sank into a bloodstained chair nearby. "Everyone's already gone. I was out in the forest on business. That's the only reason I survived."
"Didn't the priest notice you?" I asked.
"I'm good at evading demons," she replied.
I had heard Junian was once an inquisitor of the church. When it came to hunting demons, she was probably more experienced than Tanko.
"Do you know where the priest went?"
"He is heading to the altar. It is one of the tools needed to summon a demon king," Junian answered.
An altar. The word instantly reminded me of Seren. If Juan knew the location of the Altar of a Forgotten God, he would likely perform the Demon King's Summoning Ritual there.
"By the way, is it just the two of you?" Junian asked.
Charon answered, "There are more outside."
"Really? Is Evan Helvin among them?"
"Yes."
I studied Junian again. Her expression remained weary, devoid of any trace of piety.
"Instructor—"
"Call me Junian," she interrupted.
"Could you recite a passage of the scripture?" I asked.
"All of a sudden? Now?"
Charon shot me a look like I'd lost my mind.
I nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
"We encountered demons on our way here, and fear gripped me. I'm ashamed to admit it as a hero disciple, but the terror is overwhelming. Hearing a devout priestess recite a passage of the scripture might give me courage," I lied through my teeth.
Junian's expression tightened with discomfort. " Um... It's a bit strange to do this so suddenly. And this isn't exactly the best place for it."
I glanced around the bloodstained conference room and pressed my hands together as if in prayer. "It's precisely because of this place that we should do it. It feels like the souls of the dead here haven't found peace."
" Hmm... "
"Instructor Junian, don't tell me you're an inquisitor who doesn't know the scriptures?"
Only then did Charon stiffen, his gaze shifting to Junian with a wary expression.