Ashes of Betrayal

Meanwhile, the mysterious figure from before had arrived at a hideout on the other side of the capital. There, other members had also gathered to discuss what they should do next, especially since the knights were busy dealing with him. They could use this opportunity to execute their plan.

Of course, only if their leader agreed.

And the leader in question had just entered a large, dark room, illuminated only by torches mounted on the pillars.

His figure was hidden beneath a thick cloak and a wide hood, yet the terrifying pressure radiating from him made the entire room feel unbearably heavy, as if the air itself was choking.

Some of them fell to their knees, wanting to beg for forgiveness. But no words came out.

"As you already know, the knights are preoccupied with handling that outsider. This is a great opportunity for us to move. The preparations are complete—begin the operation. FOR THE DEMON KING'S RESURRECTION! AND THE VICTORY OF THE HUMAN RACE!"

They all cheered.

Meanwhile, back in the library, the one who heard it sighed in disappointment.

"What kind of speech was that? Absolutely terrible."

The two people in front of him looked confused, beginning to question whether he was in his right mind.

The Grand Mage cleared his throat a few times.

"Without that instrument, the human race would never have reached this point. The only way we have survived is with its aid."

He stepped forward, kicking the Grand Mage to the floor and placing his foot on his chest.

"From what I know, humans are the most adaptable race, capable of reaching heights they never imagined because they are neither weak nor easily defeated."

He leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer.

"What you just said is the same as insulting humans—your own race."

Then, he pushed him back down before standing up straight again, turning to look out the window, toward where those bastards were gathering.

"If I had known this power wasn't purely human but stolen, I would never have used it."

Burning Star growled, staring at the Grand Mage with pure hatred.

"I never thought someone so revered would actually be more deserving of being spat on."

Even though he had lost his dignity, the Grand Mage held back his anger, knowing that what they said wasn't wrong. But at the same time, he understood why their predecessors had done this.

"Without that instrument, we would have remained at the very bottom of the food chain. The only reason we can live in peace is thanks to it."

"Living in peace while becoming a race that destroys the harmony of others," Burning Star retorted, his fists clenched so tightly they trembled.

"You're aware of the dark past where humans were enslaved by other races, yet you didn't stop us from doing the same just because we gained power. What's the difference? At least in the East, we fought fiercely against slavery."

Slaves?

If he wasn't so focused on that heretical group, he might have laughed out loud and taken the Grand Mage's life right then and there.

Unfortunately, he didn't want to grant him a quick death. He would have to suffer for everything he had done—and he would make sure it was agonizing.

At the same time, they had already begun to move.

"If you don't want to die, you'd better answer this honestly, because I will turn this beautiful city into a sea of blood."

His words sent a chill down their spines.

"Do you know about 'them'?"

Burning Star froze at the question, completely confused. He turned to look at the Grand Mage, who was now staring at the ground.

"Yes, I know they exist," he answered weakly.

"Good. I knew you wouldn't lie. Now tell me—are you one of them?"

The tension in the air grew heavier.

But Burning Star couldn't move. It was as if something was holding him in place.

The Grand Mage remained silent for a moment, biting his lip until it bled before answering with deep regret.

"No, but I've known about them since they were first created."

"Who would've thought you were even more of a bastard than I imagined."

Suddenly, the wall in front of them shattered into tiny fragments, despite being reinforced with high-level magic. Magic from Cerno—magic so powerful that even the Grand Mage would have struggled against it—was destroyed in an instant, without the attacker even moving.

"And let me guess—you were also the one who appointed the heroes to become heroes."

The Grand Mage didn't respond.

But this time, it wasn't him who spoke—it was Burning Star.

"You've truly lost my trust, Grand Mage Alaztor," he said quietly.

His voice no longer burned with rage, but his gaze had turned icy, as if he were looking at someone unworthy of even being acknowledged.

"No matter how much I despise you, no matter how harsh my words, and no matter how furious I am, none of it can compare to the sheer disappointment all of humanity will feel once they hear about this. And I hope you're prepared to bear that burden."

"Burning Star, isn't it?" he asked.

"No, I will not use a title granted to me by stolen power. My name is—"

"Yeah, whatever. I'll just call you Orange Hair."

The orange-haired man could only sigh in resignation.

"You don't mind taking human lives?"

"If they deserve to die, of course not."

The other man grinned, placing a hand on his shoulder.

And in an instant, they teleported away, leaving the Grand Mage still sitting on the floor, staring outside as the rain began to pour heavily, carrying a chilling breeze.

They reappeared atop a building, overlooking several hooded figures moving in the shadows below.

Orange Hair's eyes widened. He could feel the presence of dark mana within them.

They were supposed to be human.

But humans weren't supposed to have that kind of mana—unless it was granted by the demon race.

"They're real…" he muttered.

"You've heard of them?"

"Just a rumor. Who would've thought they actually exist?" Orange Hair sat on the edge of the roof.

"They are a group that supposedly gathers heretics—people who want the Demon King to rise rather than perish. That rumor has spread throughout the capital, and many say that some nobles are involved with them, though no one knows for sure. But after hearing that old bastard's words, it seems the rumor isn't just a rumor."

He raised his hand, forming a pistol shape with his fingers and pointing at one of the figures below.

"You probably already know this, but humans are both strong and weak. Strong because they adapt easily. Weak because they are easily influenced."

He mimicked the motion of firing a gun—

And one of the figures' heads exploded.

Orange Hair's eyes widened in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

"All it takes is a simple rumor, and they begin to waver. Just a few words, and their hearts can change so quickly."

Another head burst open, leaving two remaining figures in a panic. They frantically looked around, trying to find their attacker—but saw nothing.

And when they finally looked up, the third head exploded.

Only one remained.

He immediately drew his sword, preparing to leap.

"No matter how strong you are, the moment your heart hesitates, you've already lost. And that is why humans are so weak and easily manipulated—especially by demons who prey upon their hearts."

The last figure jumped—

But before he could land, his head shattered into tiny pieces, his body crashing lifelessly onto the ground, blood painting the street.

At that moment, Orange Hair realized—this person beside him had never even been serious when fighting earlier.

Five minutes ago, he could have died.

And yet, he no longer felt afraid.

Of course, fear was still there—after all, the man next to him could take lives so easily.

But he wasn't someone who killed recklessly.

Even though he looked like he was having fun now, he had chosen to eliminate the heretics rather than slaughter innocent citizens.

That fact alone was enough for Orange Hair to follow him.