CHAPTER 11

He ignored the writings in front of him because he was still in shock from what had happened.

"Damn it… What have I done?!"

Now that the urgency of the situation had faded, he could think more clearly. He finally grasped what would happen after killing the demon.

The barrier… was gone.

The power that had protected those people from the dangers outside was no more.

With his decision, he had condemned them all to death and suffering.

His heart ached with pain, his thoughts filled with despair. The realization that he had sacrificed others to save himself consumed him, and he finally snapped.

"AAAAAAAGHHH!!!"

His furious scream echoed into the void, but there was no reverberation. The rage in his voice was directed at himself. He was furious at the decision he had made out of fear.

In truth, no one could blame him. After all, he had faced someone far stronger than himself, an unpredictable force. If he had hesitated, his fate could have been worse than that of the chained demon. Maybe, given more time to think, he could have made a different choice. But he hadn't had that luxury.

Arda couldn't hold back his tears. Even though he had been controlled by a spell, he had shared happy moments with those people. They were most likely under the influence of the spell as well. After all, when Bihter had shouted in the square to attract attention, the same writing had appeared before everyone. The spell must have been cast over the entire group.

That's why Arda believed those people were innocent.

And now… he had done something terrible to them. He had taken away the only thing they could rely on. The only thing that had kept them sane in this hell…

Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't bother wiping them away. In fact, since he was falling downward, they should have been carried back by the wind. But there was no wind here. Only a strange, directionless sensation of falling.

Perhaps it was just an illusion. After all, he had arrived in both the Araf and Hell in this manner. Since Hell was below, it had made sense to fall when going there. But why was he falling again when returning to Araf? Shouldn't he be rising instead?

When Arda finally saw a bright white light, he wiped away his tears. He clenched his teeth and tried to accept the situation. No matter what, there was no turning back now. He couldn't change the past. He had already given up once and taken his own life. He wouldn't let himself fall into the void again.

Because this time, he had a purpose.

He would complete all the missions and earn his wish.

Then, he could set everything right…

As the light grew larger, he descended toward it. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side, but at least this time, he was more prepared. He wouldn't wander around aimlessly, lost in confusion. He would be smarter, more cautious—he wouldn't be deceived again.

The light finally engulfed him.

When his vision cleared, he found himself in a room with wooden walls. But unlike before, he wasn't in a rundown cabin. These walls were made of clean, polished wood, free of decay. The room was about the size of a standard bedroom. In the corner stood a neatly made single bed covered with fresh sheets. Beside it was a small desk, upon which rested an antique-looking lamp. The lamp was on, casting a warm glow that suggested it was evening.

There were no other furnishings in the room. A closed wardrobe stood against one wall, its doors tightly shut, and a window with its curtains drawn.

Compared to his previous mission, this place was much cleaner and more comfortable.

Yet, for some reason, Arda found it far more unsettling.

Something about this room felt… off.

The lamp's light flickered strangely, more than it should. With every flicker, the shadows in the room twisted and wavered unnaturally. The only thing that could cause such movement was wind.

But there was no wind.

The window was shut.

So why was the lamp's flame behaving this way?

Just as he was trying to make sense of the eerie atmosphere, a new set of writings appeared before him.

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Mission: Find the Evil Spirit

Condition: Every day, the Evil Spirit will possess one person. If you fail to identify it before the day ends, the possessed person will die. You only have one chance to guess. The decision will be made by majority vote.

Reward: Item, Skill, or Knowledge

Penalty: -1000 Points

IIIIIIIII

"So this time, instead of a demon, it's an Evil Spirit."

Arda read the text and assessed the situation.

His last mission had been a nightmare. The demon he had faced defied the very laws of physics, wielding terrifying supernatural powers. From what he had learned, the demon Annie had devoured must have been at least at the Ascended level. Otherwise, it wouldn't have had such abilities beyond physical limitations.

And if that demon had only been eaten by Annie… the thought of what Annie truly was sent chills down his spine.

Now, he was up against an Evil Spirit.

That didn't seem much better. After all, how was he supposed to fight a spirit with human technology?

Still, he would have preferred this mission over the previous one. At least this one had clear rules.

If he had started with this mission instead of the previous chaotic one, he might have had a better chance of success.

After all, this wasn't about defeating the Evil Spirit—just finding it.

It reminded him of the "Mafia" or "Werewolf" game. A group of villagers had to figure out who among them was secretly a werewolf/mafia, voting to eliminate one person each day.

If the same mechanics applied here, then as long as the voting continued, they would eventually find the Evil Spirit.

Hopefully, no one would need to be hanged this time… probably.

Even as he thought through his strategy, his mind kept wandering back to what had happened. The people he had condemned to death weighed heavily on his heart. He knew he had to move forward, but he had no motivation left. The only thing keeping him standing was the promise of his ultimate wish.

Thinking of that, he glanced at the rewards for this mission.

Based on what Bulut had told him, he would receive an item, skill, or knowledge, seemingly at random. Thanks to that cursed demon, he had already gained enough knowledge. If he had a choice, he would prefer the other two options.

After evaluating everything, he realized he wasn't alone here.

The mission indicated that there was a group.

A sense of unease crept over him.

His recent experiences had made him wary of getting close to others.

"Why can't I just chase demons away with a cross?" he muttered bitterly.

As he spoke, his gaze shifted downward—only to be shocked by what he saw.

Since falling into Araf, he had been stuck in tattered, filthy clothes. But now…

He was a completely different person.

The rags were gone, replaced by a striped sweater over a collared shirt. He wore neatly pressed trousers. His hands, once covered in grime, were clean. When he touched his face, he noticed that his messy beard had been trimmed and his skin was free of oil and dirt.

This was unexpected.

According to Bulut, the clothes people wore when they died remained with them. They could be repaired or cleaned, but they never changed.

Yet now, his old clothes were gone, replaced with entirely new ones.

As he examined them, he realized something else—they were old-fashioned.

They looked good, but they didn't belong to his time.

The furniture in the room also seemed antique. At first, he had assumed this was just a rustic cabin, but now he wasn't so sure.

This wasn't just a matter of style.

This was a different era.

Arda turned his gaze toward the wooden door at the edge of the room.

Who—or what—was waiting for him on the other side?

Arda was no longer in the shattered state he had been in at the beginning. He could now think clearly, using his intelligence and instincts to make deductions. Sure, he was still deeply upset about what had happened, but he wasn't as hopeless as when he first arrived. That allowed him to analyze the situation more effectively. This mission truly belonged to the past. After all, weren't the best horror stories written in times when technology was less advanced?

He had never done any role-playing before, so he had no idea how to blend in once he stepped outside. Maybe he should just act insane? No… that might make people mistake him for an evil spirit.

Of course, there were other things to consider besides playing a role. Like the ability he had gained after killing the demon. Or the Gluttony skill that had triggered it. And, of course, the Sinner's Mind—the very thing that had saved him from Bihter's temptation.

Sinner's Mind reminded him of the ability he had received from Annie. One of the Seven Deadly Sins—Gluttony… The ability seemed to be more than just what the description suggested. It didn't just absorb the beings he killed; it also granted some form of mental protection. And who knew? Maybe that protection extended even further. Either way, without it, he would have been completely unaware as he got chewed up inside the demon's mouth.

However, he still didn't understand how it was triggered. Did someone need to use an ability on him for it to activate? Or could he control it himself?

Another thing that intrigued him was the ability that had devoured the demon. Could he really erase a being just by touching it? Even if the demon had allowed it, the skill itself was still immensely powerful. Not only had it killed the creature instantly, but it had also granted him a new ability.

'What was it called again?'

'Ah, right. Veil of the Eyes.'

The moment he recalled the name, a system message appeared before him.

IIIIIIIII

Ascended Demon Umert bin Ourheart's Blessing ability. Partially usable.

Veil of the Eyes: For one hour, you can isolate an area twice the size of your body. You will be completely undetectable within that space.

IIIIIIIII

After reading the description, Arda felt a pang of disappointment. He had assumed he'd be able to conceal a vast area, just like the demon had done. But instead, he could only hide a small space, and only for an hour. And if he understood correctly, the effect didn't move with him—it was tied to the isolated space. Meaning, he couldn't disappear and then walk around unnoticed.

Still, it was kind of exciting. Actually, if he weren't feeling so awful, it would be very exciting. After all, this was a superpower! The ability to do something supernatural, just like in the movies! Back in the safe zone, he had envied those who could create things out of nothing. But now, he had something special too! Even if it seemed like a fairly useless ability, it was better than nothing.

After processing all of this, Arda checked his body for any other changes. But he didn't notice anything different. When he had heard the word "absorption," he had assumed it might also increase his strength or speed. The demon's body had been enormous. If he had absorbed even a fraction of its physical power, that would have been great. But he didn't feel any stronger at all.

After evaluating everything, he no longer wanted to stay in the room. Thoughts of Bihter and the camp kept creeping into his mind, intensifying his grief. He needed to focus on the mission and clear his head.

Taking a deep breath, Arda straightened his posture despite his sour mood and walked toward the door with steady steps. He reached for the handle and tried turning it—but it didn't budge. The door was locked.

He looked down and noticed a key in the lock. Turning it, he heard a soft clink as the mechanism disengaged. This time, when he twisted the handle, the door opened with ease.

The fact that it had been locked struck him as odd. Just in case, he pulled the key out and slipped it into the pocket of his fabric trousers. Then, he stepped out of the room.

A hallway greeted him, lined with doors on either side. Glancing around, he counted a total of six, including his own. Each door had a nameplate affixed to it.

As he was inspecting them, a sudden voice rang out.

"Oh! He's awake!"

Turning toward the source of the voice, he spotted a young girl standing at the end of the hallway. She wore a frilly bonnet, and her golden curls cascaded down her cheeks. Her blue eyes sparkled with pure curiosity as they locked onto him. Dressed in a long, floral-patterned spring dress, she radiated an air of delicate charm. Even at a glance, Arda could tell she was in the later years of adolescence.

After her exclamation, someone else stepped into view. Standing at the entrance of the hallway, watching Arda, was a middle-aged man with a thick beard. His bushy eyebrows and piercing brown eyes gave him a strong, imposing presence. His long hair was slicked back and tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His broad shoulders and muscular arms showcased his strength, though he also had a noticeable beer belly.

He was wearing a stained tank top, which immediately caught Arda's attention. His loose-fitting pants were just as dirty as his shirt. But what stood out the most was the apron tied around his waist. It was secured at the front, as if the man had just come from the kitchen.

"Good morning," the man said in a deep, gruff voice.

Though his mustache partially concealed his expression, Arda was certain he wasn't smiling. Something about him reminded Arda of innkeepers he had seen in movies.

"We've waited long enough. Come to the hall," the man continued in the same serious tone before turning and disappearing from sight.

The girl gave Arda one last curious glance before following him.

A strange sense of déjà vu washed over Arda. In his first mission, he had also been called out of his room and into a hall, where he had first encountered a young girl and a middle-aged man. Though this girl was older than the last, she seemed to share the same innocent demeanor.

'But this time, things will be different,' he thought to himself.

This time, he wouldn't fall for innocent faces or kind words. This time, he would do his best.

With renewed determination, he stepped forward, heading toward the end of the hallway.

'Let's go stake that werewolf.'