"Parasite? Don’t make me laugh. You don’t look like a demon at all!"
"Yeah! Don’t you dare go around using the word demon!"
A few Ravarn demons shouted the moment the man claimed his race, their voices sharp with ridicule and hostility.
To be honest, even Joe frowned.
He couldn’t feel any demon energy coming from the man—not even a trace.
No pressure.
No distortion.
Nothing.
The man merely smirked.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his coat and produced two items—
A golden mask.
And a golden dagger.
The smirk widened.
"Don’t look like a demon?" he sneered. "You fucking idiots. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of parasite abilities."
The laughter died instantly.
Parasites.
Everyone there knew what that meant.
Parasite demons did not possess bodies of their own.
Their most basic—and most terrifying—ability was possession.
If a parasite was present, then the body standing before them...
"...So the human body is just a shell," someone muttered.
Meaning—
Inside that human frame lurked a demon.
"...Don’t worry," the man said lightly. "I’ll give you a proper demonstration of my demon power."
Before anyone could react, he lifted the golden mask and pressed it against his face.
The moment it made contact—
An ominous pressure exploded outward.
Not raw power like a berserker demon.
Not suffocating authority like a noble.
But something wrong.
Something that scraped against the senses like nails on glass.
Dark energy seeped from his body in uneven pulses, distorting the air around him.
Then—
His face vanished.
Not obscured.
Not shadowed.
Gone.
No eyes.
No mouth.
No nose.
Nothing but smooth, empty flesh where a face should have been.
A few demons staggered back instinctively.
"...Ah," a voice crackled.
It didn’t come from a mouth.
It didn’t come from anywhere at all.
The sound was layered with static, fragmented and distorted—yet unmistakably amused.
"I’m not sure if you can hear me very well."
A ripple of unease spread through the group.
Despite the warped tone, the playfulness was clear.
So was the malice.
"My name is Faceless Imposter," the voice continued cheerfully, "the most inconsequential parasite. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
His empty right hand rose and pressed exaggeratedly against his chest, mimicking a theatrical bow.
The sight was absurd.
A faceless thing pretending to be polite.
A demon wearing a human body like a cheap costume.
And yet—
No one laughed.
Because the golden dagger had appeared in his left hand.
It gleamed faintly, runes crawling across its surface like living veins.
"And there’s really no need for introductions," Faceless Imposter added.
"After all, I have no intention of letting any of you leave alive."
"...What?"
"Be careful—!"
Too late.
A thin, dazzling line flashed through the air.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then the Ravarn who had spoken froze.
A red line bloomed across his neck.
His head slid free of his shoulders and hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling once before coming to a stop.
The body followed.
Silence.
Thick.
Suffocating.
Blood spread across the stone floor.
"This bastard—!"
"Formation!" someone yelled. "Don’t let him move freely!"
Faceless Imposter tilted his head, as if puzzled.
"Oh? You reacted faster than I expected."
He glanced down at the fallen Ravarn, then back at the others.
"Hm. This pattern... mercenaries?"
His tone turned almost disappointed.
"No wonder you feel weaker than the regular troops I’ve encountered."
The demons bristled.
"Don’t underestimate us!"
"Kill him!"
Mana flared as spells began to form.
Chains of fire.
Blades of compressed wind.
Dark sigils etched into the air.
Faceless Imposter sighed.
"Such noisy children."
He vanished.
Not teleported.
Not cloaked.
Simply—
Gone.
A scream rang out behind them.
Another Ravarn collapsed, chest split open from shoulder to hip.
"Behind us—!"
A third demon tried to turn—
Only for the golden dagger to pierce cleanly through his skull.
Faceless Imposter reappeared among them, movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette guided by invisible strings.
Every step was slightly off.
Every gesture a mockery of human motion.
And yet—
Every strike was precise.
Lethal.
Efficient.
Joe felt cold sweat slide down his spine.
’This isn’t just possession,’ he realized.
’He’s optimizing the body.’
Faceless Imposter paused mid-slaughter and tilted his head again, as if listening to something only he could hear.
"...Ah," he said pleasantly. "I can feel your fear now."
The faceless thing turned slowly toward Joe.
Even without eyes—
Joe knew he was being looked at.
"Good," Faceless Imposter continued softly.
"Fear makes the memories richer."
The golden dagger lifted.
"And I do so enjoy collecting those."
Joe got Goosebumps all over his body. His stumbled few steps back and before could say anything.
Slash—!
One of Ravarn quickly come and slashed towards the Faceless Imposter neck.
"Now you die! You lowely parsite!"
But before the blade could touch the neck Faceless Imposter dodged the attack by twisting his—upper body at an impossible angle.
The blade whistled past where his neck should have been, slicing nothing but air.
"Hm?"
Faceless Imposter’s faceless head tilted, almost curious.
"That was close," he said lightly.
Joe barely had time to register what happened next.
The parasite twisted further—bones should have snapped, muscles should have torn—but the body bent as if those limits simply didn’t exist.
In the same motion, the golden dagger slid upward.
A soft thk echoed.
The Ravarn froze mid-swing.
"...Wha—?"
His sword slipped from numb fingers.
A thin line opened across his abdomen.
Then another.
Then another.
They appeared too fast to track, crisscrossing his torso like careless brushstrokes.
A heartbeat later, his body came apart.
Not exploded.
Not crushed.
Disassembled.
Chunks hit the ground with wet, heavy sounds.
Joe gagged.
Faceless Imposter straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as if loosening stiff joints.
"Parasite bodies really are inconvenient," he muttered. "Too rigid. Too many unnecessary reflexes."
He flexed his fingers.
The human hand trembled—then steadied.
Optimization complete.
The remaining Ravarn demons backed away instinctively now.
No shouting.
No insults.
Only ragged breathing and widening eyes. H