These creatures clearly weren’t from the asylum’s security team—not the right size, nor the right level of power. They looked like children and had cores only slightly stronger than weaklings.
Leaving my body under Dima’s care—he’d just woken up—I went to scout. My surprise was great when I saw what dared to consider me its prey.
Yes, the creatures were all too familiar: simple goblins, but not the green, pimply kind. These were different, resembling yetis more than anything else. Their pale, drowned-like skin was covered in blue fur, except for their faces.
But their differences weren’t limited to appearance. The closer they came, the stronger I felt a strange blend of cursed and divine energy within them. And yet, it clearly didn’t cause them the slightest discomfort. What kind of world is this, anyway? I’d really like to know…
No matter. I could deal with all these oddities later. For now, it was the perfect opportunity to replenish my energy and release some pent-up tension. After all, there’s nothing quite as invigorating as a good fight!
---
**The Torture Chamber, Same Time**
**The Gnome Statue**
**Oluvert, the Chewing Gnome**
“Report,” barked the deity, rubbing his face. “And don’t you dare tell me you didn’t find him. I’ll grind you all to dust, you worms!”
Oluvert, never the most restrained at the best of times, was particularly furious now, and for good reason. For the first time in his clinic’s history, someone had mustered the strength and audacity to escape. Sure, there had been attempts before, but no one had ever made it out of the catacombs. Oluvert had poured considerable effort into crafting those crystals for a reason…
Yet, despite all his precautions, something had gone wrong. That a weakling—a demon-blooded one, no less—had made it all the way to his statue filled Oluvert with rage.
To say nothing of the humiliating defeat he’d suffered, during which he’d literally “lost face.” Even now, his restored focus throbbed with pain, souring his mood further. And the thought of the financial losses incurred? It made the gnome want to explode.
“Why are you silent?” Oluvert removed his hand from his face and glared at the frightened man before him, along with the rest of his followers, who were practically groveling on the floor. “Fine. I’ll allow you to speak freely. But if you hide anything from me, Vasya, you’re done for.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“We’ve lost over two dozen,” stammered the new head of security, wiping sweat from his brow. “Mostly weaklings and Apprentices, but we also lost a few Journeymen and even one low-level Master…”
“And how, pray tell, did one snot-nosed brat manage to take out all of them?” Oluvert raised an eyebrow, grinding his teeth. “Why do I even keep you around?!”
“We don’t know,” Vasya nearly smashed his forehead into the floor in his bow. “Most of the losses occurred in the barracks while they were sleeping. It seems the boy somehow created a large amount of toxic smoke… Perhaps it’s one of his gifts. The Vulcan bloodline reportedly has something similar. He also had enough power to seal the door. No one made it out—not even Grey. It appears the smoke impaired their concentration in addition to its other effects…”
“Or they’re just pathetic failures,” growled Oluvert, barely restraining himself from smiting his follower. “And after the alarm? How did he manage to escape then?! You have no excuses for that, idiots! Explain yourselves!”
“He… He has mind-control abilities,” Vasya forced the words out. “The boy managed to take control of the gatekeepers and escape in a stolen car. He didn’t have the keys, but it seems he had enough power to create his own…”
“That’s exactly why we should have drained him dry!” hissed the gnome, quickly calming himself. The responsible parties were already dead, and berating the uninvolved was counterproductive. Humans were so… delicate. “Fine, go on. What happened next?”
“We pursued him immediately,” Vasya stammered, carefully choosing his words. “We chased him, but he somehow took control of one of our drivers and caused a crash. And yet, the boy kept driving as if mind control cost him nothing.” After a pause, and seeing no reaction from the gnome, Vasya continued, “When we resumed the chase, he had already left the road and disappeared into the fields. It was dark, and the blizzard made it impossible to track him…”
“Idiots,” Oluvert muttered, grinding his teeth. “Gifted ones, you call yourselves? Couldn’t catch one brat…” Rubbing his aching nose, the gnome decided to drop the subject. “Fine, I get it. If this happens again, you’re all done! I’ll turn you into batteries myself, got it?!”
“Yes!!” the followers shouted in unison, inching back cautiously.
Oluvert rubbed his face again, lost in thought. Something about this whole situation deeply troubled him. Too many coincidences for one weakling.
Even if the boy had been pretending to be weak, he shouldn’t have made it this far. And considering his apparent ability to manipulate minds, Marcus’s death no longer seemed like a coincidence. It had to be him!
“Wait…” the gnome muttered, removing his hand from his face. “No, it couldn’t be…”
Suddenly, realization struck Oluvert. How had a mere mortal—albeit not the weakest—managed to damage his focus? Even slightly? Exploding dozens of crystals hadn’t left so much as a scratch! Yes, he had reduced his defenses for mobility and spent energy on creating his domain, but still, this shouldn’t have happened. Why had he only realized this now?
Shaking his head, the gnome separated his focus and leapt to the floor, causing everyone present to go pale—and Vasya several shades paler.
“Vasya,” Oluvert narrowed his eyes, “come here. The rest of you, get out while I’m in a good mood.”
No one needed to be told twice. The guards bolted, each fearing to be the last and risk punishment.
“Y-yes…” Vasya swallowed hard, obeying. He was now alone.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hit you,” the gnome grinned. “But you’re going to hit me.”
“W-what…?”
Ignoring his bewildered follower, Oluvert used his power to rip a stone block from the wall, roughly the same size as the one that had hit him.
“Here, take this,” the gnome handed him the makeshift brick. “Now channel as much mana as you can into it and hit me in the face. Hard. Don’t give me that look—just do it!”
Vasya tried his best, but predictably, nothing happened. Despite channeling all his strength, he only managed to break his wrist and cut his hand on shards of the brick, while Oluvert barely felt the impact.
“Enough, dismissed,” Oluvert said coldly, cleaning his face. “And don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, or I’ll do the same to you!”
Clutching his injured hand, Vasya fled. Alone again, Oluvert stood, pressing his palm to his forehead, until a sinister smile crept across his face.
“No way… Could he really be… a true demon?”