34. VICTIMS NOR VILLAINS
//
2:03 P.M. // 11 - 2 - 2023 // Silverdawn Floor 40 - Meeting Rooms
Starring Reyenal Ato
Featuring Oriana Ato, ??? and ???
//
I could have been at home. I could have been sleeping off the soreness from yesterday’s dungeon crawl.
I could have been drinking boba by the water fountain, or wandering Club Streets, wondering about how much longer the Square would be closed off for.
Maybe I could have been training to beat that Aythe s***head into the floor, or studying to finally beat that f***ing bastard who barely even tries for his position, or playing video games with Zen, or even partying.
I could have been doing literally anything else.
And yet here I was.
========================
[Do not let anyone believe you are incapable]
Duration:
[—]
Penalty for failure:
[Exploitation by the higher-ups of Silverdawn]
Status: [—]
Current task(s): [Flee from the Fire, Rivalry for the Top]
========================
“Young Miss Ato, you’ve been slouching the whole meeting.” The name tag on the woman’s suit read Intelligence Director Baran Kazmi, and her stern eyes were squinted at me. “Have you been listening to any of us at all?”
I nodded politely, my hands clammy with sweat. It was uncomfortably warm inside the glass office. My butt was weirdly itchy, but I didn’t dare to scratch it. “Yes, ma’am. We were talking about how this past year was generally c-calm for Silverdawn. Only a few casualties…” I trailed off, her gaze burning onto my scalp.
Oriana Ato beside me glanced at me. It certainly wasn’t an approving one.
“As you heard, Reyenal was listening the whole time,” her mother spoke clearly and calmly. The side eye she was giving me gave ‘Once-this-is-over-we’re-having-a-long-chat’ vibes that didn’t sit well with me. “However, more pressing issues are at hand. The reason why we were called here today… please proceed, Baran.”
The woman clearly didn’t accept the interference, but nevertheless she cleared her throat gracefully. “Yes, yes.” She raised her grating smoker’s-lungs voice to project, “I’m sure most of you are aware of the sudden increase in demonic activity surrounding Arc, which needs no introduction.”
My heart stopped beating.
What?
“We all know that its close associate, the Saint Hospital, the hospital whose biotechnological facet is widely known to be the pioneers in mana poisoning, neurological mutations caused by mana influxes, and more.”
Arc… wasn’t safe?
I should have expected this.
I snapped myself out of the short bout of panic. I was an avid manhwa reader. I definitely should have expected that Arc wasn’t safe
“These numbers on the projection are the numbers the Demon Slayer guild obtained not too long ago: 57.4% increase on demonic activity—”
And yet no news of disaster, I thought briefly as she continued on. I bit my lips.
“—concentration is focused around Saint Hospital.”
One man raised his hand and commented, “Then this should be enough of a reason to send the investigations team to Arc. The Fostering team is eager to get their hands on new talents, sharing that last year’s batch was quite disillusioning for them.”
The Intelligence Lead shook her head and grunted. “No, I’ve already tried that. They said they would be sending some Holimont officers to deal with it.”
“However,” a man beside her stood up. “We have reason to believe that Arc is plotting something, as no reports of any demonic suppression activities were mentioned by our insider agent in his last report.”
There was a Silverdawn insider in Arc? Since when?
A voice rumbled from the far end of the table, shaking the room with surprise other than Oriana Ato. The man’s shiny and pointed shoes were on the table, and he was reclined in his chair comfortably. “If nothing is being done about this situation on Arc’s side, then that leaves us with only two options.” The man put his feet down and leaned forward with renewed interest. He was reasonably built, but not so large like all of those freaky Arc students, and with a more mature type of handsomeness. His cheekbones were high, accentuated as his jawline, and with his proper clothes, slicked back brown hair, shiny skin to cover any imperfections, it was clear he was someone who made an effort to look good.
“Then what do you propose, Atlas?” Oriana replied, everyone’s eyes now on the strongest man in the room, none other than the president of Silverdawn.
“Reyenal!” He raised his hands into the air suddenly, almost childishly. The tone switch-up startled me to hell and back: from an evil mastermind to a jovial uncle. “You’re listening now, right?”
“Y-yes,” I nodded, panicking a little. “I’ve been listening, s-sir.”
“Sir?” He cocked his head to the side, his voice less bright. “When did I go from ‘Old Man’ to ‘sir’ for you?”
I hid my flinch as best as possible with a cough. Reyenal did what now?
I racked through my brain. Formal environments stressed me out. “It’s only appropriate, no?”
C’mon, Reyenal, you’re not so stupid that you blatantly disrespect the goddamn president of Silverdawn in front of so many people?
“She’s been acting a little weird this whole meeting,” one of the executives murmured from my right.
A woman nodded her head inconspicuously, whispering as if I nor the rest of the table couldn’t hear her. “It’s like she lost her boldness. As if she lost all of those years we raised her to surpass the president.”
A moment of silence passed.
All eyes on me.
========================
Answer
Memory
Overtake
Will you use a Guide?
Yes//No
========================
Answer.
========================
Option 1) “Please, speak louder. That way the demons can hear it and have reason to be scared, scared that someone might actually succeed the Old Fart.”
Option 2) “Hey, if you wanna make things awkward, take it outside to your [hidden], where I’m not invited. Oh… was I not supposed to say that?”
Option 3) “The first modicum of respect I’ve shown that man gets passed off like that? Goddamn, so you all loooooove it when I do this?” [middle-finger raise]
========================
I snorted. Eyebrows furrowed at my amusement.
The moment I made the choice, my tongue tensed, my teeth tightened, my eyes hardened, and my lips pressed. “Please, speak louder. That way the demons can hear it and have reason to be scared, scared that someone might actually succeed the Old Fart.”
A pause of silence followed again as my features relaxed, all except the eyes that scanned the room in case I had said something wrong. “Hah… Haha!” The Old Fart began laughing, a boisterous noise that was infectious as it was inappropriate. “Hahaha! Oriana, you raised a funny one! Haha!”
“Did I, now?” Oriana… my mother’s facial expression matched exactly what I imagined myself to have looked when I said that.
Chill, man.
The Intelligence Director Baran, with a puzzled look on her face, tried to speak, “That—”
“Allllrighty, girl,” the president made an attempt to quell his laughter as he cut off Baran. “Yeahahah… you’ve got that same spirit I remembered only a few months ago. I almost thought that Arc had made you a changed, someone respectable woman. But maybe I like this better. Demons…” He trailed off with another chortle.
I nodded, trying to remember the third option. “The first modicum of respect that I’ve shown all of you… and that was the response I got?”
“Maybe just continue with your options, Old Man.”
I coughed again involuntarily.
What?
What did I even say for that to happen?
Was it because—
“Ahh, yes,” he nodded slowly. Clearly, the man had so much authority over the room. No one dared to speak over him, and the obvious silence of the room was as obvious as his thinking face.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Well?” I pressed, trying hard to maintain my composure. It was so stuffy, and I needed to get out as soon as possible. A cold gaze was pressed into the side of my head from Oriana, even though I knew that she wasn’t actually looking at me.
Yet, the curiosity in the room wasn’t as palpable as I thought it would be. No, it seemed like the options were already clear as everyone’s head but Oriana’s turned to look at mine. I hoped that nothing was showing on my face. Not a tremble in my lip, or a shade of pink in my ears, not a wrong blink.
All eyes on me.
“It shouldn’t be so hard for someone as talented as you, kid.” The flash in his eyes wasn’t natural, but it definitely wasn’t as evil as I made it out to be.
“Well, it’s simple.” The eyes changed. The mood shifted, and I felt a surge of wind that wasn’t made of air, rather of mana that wasn’t my own. And then the mana concentrated onto my head.
Omniscient Gaze
Cost: 470 MANA
Cooldown: 4 minutes
S- // ??? creates a single point on all targets in his sight. If the point is on the head, he can discern their thoughts. If the point is on their body, he can disable or stimulate any system closest to the point. If the point is on a limb, he can control their body.
DURATION:
12 seconds
He was… really watching me. That man’s eyes were truly on me, not of what I chose to represent myself as, but really me. An eyebrow raised, and I realized why Reyenal was never respectful to that man.
Atlas Garcia knew what she truly thought of him, and even more.
Right now he knew that I was scared.
“You can either…” He smirked, and I gulped so loud even the crows outside could hear. “Make use of all of that freetime on your hands to find some dirt on Arc. Enough so that Silverdawn can pay them a friendly visit.” From the corner of her eyes I could see the fervence in which the Fostering Director nodded his head, and at the same time my posture sagged slightly. They knew.
They knew I had freetime.
They had spies in Arc.
So why—
“—don’t we ask someone else?” He knew.
He was reading my mind.
He knew.
Atlas raised his eyebrow subtly, and any emotion he had before was now stone cold. That man was terrifying.
All of a sudden I felt that same surge of mana pull away from me, and then all traces of fear of exposure in me disappeared. The fear of what he was asking stayed, though. “It’s because this mission is supposed to be a secret. Agents and aspiring recruits still at Arc are all but imperfect.”
I swallowed with some difficulty. I wasn’t Reyenal.
I wasn’t perfect.
So I needed to become Reyenal.
========================
Answer
Memory
Overtake
Will you use a Guide?
Yes//No
========================
Overtake.
“—kill the fallen angels,” I said suddenly.
“Come again?” One of the directors deigned to speak out of turn.
“I said,” My tongue steeled. The muscles in my face hardened and every bit of my body tensed. “I want to take option two and kill the fallen angels myself.”
A creepy smile widened on Atlas’s face. “You’ve always been quite clever, Miss Ato.” The subtle clipping of the voice that only Reyenal’s trained ears could catch on to told me that something was off, but at the same time he couldn’t do anything about it. The smile on his face didn’t travel to his eyes. Atlas wasn’t pleased. A few eyes drifted away.
“As an extra service,” she continued boldly, and once again, all eyes were on her. On me. “I will also find new recruits who stand up to Silverdawn’s high standards.”
The Fostering Executive grunted, “That’s great and all, but we can always just review the semesterly midterm and upcoming final physical examination footage, which are all available to the public.”
My head shook, yet not in my control, “That’s not what I meant. Hey…” she looked at his name tag, “Brayden, are guilds allowed to contact students before the designated intern recruitment date?”
His face flushed. “No, that’s against the law. No, I meant—”
“So what you’re saying is that all you’re able to do is watch a bunch of videos and attend bi-yearly tournaments?” Ruthlessly, she clicked her tongue. “That’s what I thought. So, do you accept my help or what?”
This time, the eyes turned to the president. This was something for Atlas to decide.
After a moment of hesitation, the gleam in his eyes prevailed.
“Yes, I do, Reya.” Now his eyes were smiling just as much as his lips. He had heard something he liked.
I, on the other hand…
========================
[Do not involve yourself with Gwen Olynn any longer]
Duration:
[10 / 25 / 2023 — 12 / 25 / 2023]
Status: Failed
========================
I was not feeling nearly as bold as she was.
========================
[All hostility towards Reyenal is greatly increased]
Duration:
[Until Quest: Coronation is resolved]
========================
And just when I thought it would stop…
========================
[Wear the Bloodstained Crown]
Duration:
[—]
Penalty for failure:
[—]
Status: [—]
========================
//
7:31 A.M. // 9 - 4 - 2022 // St. Arthur Catholic K-8 Private School
Featuring Nolan Faust
//
There were horrible scribbles all over the desk.
FUGLY
PIG-LAN
Snickers all around the room as Nolan pulled out the chair.
GO KILL YOURSELF
NO ONE LIKES YOU
Today would be his last day in hell.
WIMP
PUSHOVER
FAREWELL, LOSER
YOU’RE A WASTE OF SPACE
—BBBBPPPPPPPPPHHHH!!!
The entire classroom bursted out into rounds of giggles as the whoopie cushion beneath Nolan’s butt let out the loudest, most convincing fart the school had ever heard. Mr. Brown lowered his glasses as he scanned the room for the perpetrator, unimpressed.
“It was Pig—Nolan!” A cheerleader girl pointed to him from the window seats, a hideous grin on her face concealed by pounds of makeup.
“Yeah, that was Nolan,” the jock beside him grabbed his ear, tugged up, and kicked his ankles for good measure. Nolan grunted in resigned pain and stood up, embarrassed. The jock let go, but the grip of every student around him was firm.
“—all that belly fat!”
“I’d rather die than—”
“What if he hears us?”
“—cares? What can he do about it?”
All over his body.
“—so stinky…”
“His parents must be disappointed—”
“—his mom is like that ‘cause of him.”
“… resident pro bridge dweller.”
He couldn’t move.
“Silence!” The teacher roared, and the noise gradually faded into low whispers.
Mr. Brown opened his mouth, looking straight forward at Nolan.
Nolan looked straight down at the ground.
He hesitated.
“Now, class…”
—Errr!
Nolan sank back into his chair, and forgetting the whoopie cushion he sat on it again. It blew obnoxiously.
More giggles.
“Class, please open up to page 168 in your history textbook.”
…
How familiar.
“Aghh!”
Kicks to his side.
—Bppp!
“Uunngh!”
Punches to his cheeks.
—Paah!
Stomach.
“Buhh!”
Fingers.
“Nnghh!!”
Hair.
“Aah!”
Bruises everywhere.
—Bmmp!
—Bmmp!
—Pppak!
—Ttaat!
—Poooh!
—Bbup!
So painful.
“Heeehee! Look at him on the floor!”
“Oh my god, you think my makeup looks good today?”
“This loser’s really getting one today.”
“Serves the fat*** right.”
“Hahh! Hahaha… hahhahah!”
“Who does he think he is, trying to transfer out?”
“He should be grateful that it’s us and not anyone else.”
“But look at him right now.”
“He brought this on himself.”
“What a fatty. Disgusting.”
—KKRRRRRRKKK!!
All of a sudden everything went quiet.
Chase’s limp body lay sprawled across the ground a meter away. His golden hair wasn’t shining. No more punching. No more kicking. No whimpering, no wheezing, no laughter, no words.
The world came to a complete standstill as Nolan panted for breath, on both feet, his fists in the air. Adrenaline was in his blood. His heart pounded furiously. His fists were raised in the air, broken and bruised.
Then came the screams.