Chapter 255
“I didn’t prepare a gift for you. I’m truly sorry! I know the circumstances weren’t right before, but that doesn’t excuse my mistake. I should have prepared it before asking you to be my teacher,” she apologized, bowing her head deeply in sincerity.
Her hands clutched the edges of her tunic, twisting the fabric nervously, as if trying to wring out her shame.
‘Gift? For me? Why?’ Oliver thought, puzzled at her sudden remorse. Then, as if a lantern lit in his mind, realization struck.
He recalled how deeply ingrained the custom of gift-giving was in demon culture. Whenever demons sought to become a teacher’s student, they would offer lavish or important gifts. These gifts weren’t just tokens of gratitude but served as a formal sign of acceptance into a bond akin to an apprenticeship.
It wasn’t merely tradition—it was an unspoken rule. The gifts symbolized devotion, sincerity, and a willingness to obey the master’s guidance.
The memories resurfaced vividly now: a hulking demon once kneeling before his teacher, offering up a ceremonial blade inlaid with rubies that gleamed like fresh blood. The demon’s booming voice had been steady, but Oliver remembered the tension in his clenched fists, as if the act of surrendering such a precious relic was a trial in itself.
In human culture, however, this practice was far less prevalent. While not mandatory, exorcists would still often present their mentors with gifts as an unspoken gesture of respect and gratitude. This subtle mirroring of demon culture made Oliver wonder if these practices shared a deeper origin.
“Well, I don’t need anything,” Oliver said, waving dismissively, his voice tinged with mild amusement. The corners of his lips quirked into a faint smile, one that barely reached his eyes.
“This can’t be…! Teacher, I swear, once I’ve become capable enough, I’ll give you something worth remembering!” Her declaration came with an almost fiery determination.
Her eyes burned with a fierce resolve that belied her small frame, as if she were swearing an oath that bound her soul.
“Sure…” Oliver muttered, barely hiding his indifference. He didn’t feel like arguing over something he deemed trivial. He let out a sigh, silently berating himself.
The weight of his own apathy pressed against him, heavy and uncomfortable. ‘Guess a lazy person like me isn’t suited to teach…’ He gazed at her determined face and couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Her boundless enthusiasm contrasted sharply with his laid-back nature.
The weight of his own apathy pressed against him, heavy and uncomfortable. ‘Guess a lazy person like me isn’t suited to teach…’ He gazed at her determined face and couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Her boundless enthusiasm contrasted sharply with his laid-back nature.
But responsibility was a weight he couldn’t shrug off. He had brought her into this situation, and now it was his duty to see it through. At least for now. Perhaps later, when she was more skilled, he could guide her to a better teacher and fade back into his preferred solitude.
For now, though, the tie between them was something he couldn’t sever, no matter how much he yearned for peace. Her bright, expectant gaze was like an anchor holding him in place.
Until that day came, he resolved to fulfill his role as her mentor.
“Well, if that’s the case, then follow—” Oliver abruptly stopped mid-sentence, his body tensing.
‘Huh?’
His heart raced as he suddenly sensed a cluster of oppressive presences encircling the camp. The air grew dense, and a chill ran down his spine.
It was too sudden, too calculated. These presences hadn’t approached gradually; they had appeared all at once, as if teleporting directly to the area. Their timing was uncanny, leaving no room for doubt—it was an ambush.
The air itself seemed to turn heavy, oppressive, and cold, as if an invisible hand had gripped the camp in a suffocating vise.
The realization hit him like a hammer. These entities had been lying in wait, likely concealed by an artifact or some advanced magic that had shielded them from detection until the perfect moment.
Oliver’s mind raced, replaying the events leading to this moment. He now understood why the chief and the stick man had acted so strangely. Their behavior, coupled with their eagerness to cooperate, was a deliberate ploy. He had walked right into a trap.
He clenched his fists. His knuckles whitened as his nails dug into his palms. ‘So those two were heretics after all, posing as human rebels in demon territory. It all adds up now…’
But the bigger question lingered—who orchestrated this?
It was likely connected to his actions in the city where he had pulled off that dangerous stunt. If his hunch was correct, this was the work of inquisitors.
They had sealed the area completely, leaving no visible escape routes. Breaking through the encirclement would be near impossible with so many demons closing in on all sides.
‘I should have seen this coming. I knew something felt off, but I never suspected those two humans…’
Oliver’s brow furrowed. A deep, throbbing ache began to build in his temple as his mind spiraled through possibilities. ‘If they’re heretics, why didn’t I sense dark espera from them? All heretics carry a sinister aura, yet neither of them showed any signs. The stick man was especially clean… too clean.’
He contemplated a grim possibility—had the exorcists themselves begun collaborating with demons? Though rare, such instances weren’t unheard of. In desperate situations, humans and demons with overlapping goals had been known to collude, even if temporarily.
But these alliances almost always ended in catastrophe.
“Teacher, what’s wrong?” the girl’s concerned voice broke his train of thought. She stood by his side, her gaze darting around the camp. Though she couldn’t sense the presences surrounding them, her instincts told her something was amiss.
“It seems we’ve been discovered by the demons,” Oliver said evenly, his calm tone betraying the gravity of the situation.
“What!?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She scanned their surroundings, but no demons were in sight. Despite this, she trusted her teacher’s words implicitly.
“What do we do now, teacher?” she asked, her voice steady despite the rising tension.
“Hmm…” Oliver’s sharp gaze flicked across the camp. Despite the life-threatening danger, his mind remained unnervingly calm—a trait he attributed to his Mystic Purge Clan bloodline. It allowed him to keep a clear head, even in the face of overwhelming peril.
Still, a faint electric charge seemed to buzz beneath his skin, an unconscious preparation for the fight he knew was coming.
“I have an idea, but I’ll need your help,” Oliver said, his focus shifting to the girl.
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