CHAPTER 158: EX 158. INTERVENTION

Nikko stood with her arms folded, the usual steel in her eyes dulled by the storm of thoughts racing behind them. Rebecca’s voice, crisp and precise, filled the silence as she laid out the situation.

"She resisted initial probing," Rebecca explained. "There was Physical rejection and spiritual backlash. The demon she made a pact with, it’s deep in her. and the healers are treading lightly as and they fear killing it may erase the memory trail we need."

Nikko nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the observation window. Through the one-way glass, she could see the chaos unfold. Eleanor’s body twisted violently against the restraints, face soaked in sweat, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth where she bit into her lip to stop herself from screaming.

"She’s not giving anything," Raven muttered beside her.

Nikko’s gaze narrowed, her voice low but final. "If this isn’t handled in the next ten minutes, I will step in."

Her tone cut through the air like a guillotine. She wasn’t threatening. She was promising.

The truth was, no one cared what happened to Eleanor anymore. She had betrayed the Federation, and the Federation didn’t forget betrayal. If not for the secrets buried in her mind, the demon’s name, the hidden circle of worshippers, the method of corruption, they would have executed her already. But time had drained their patience. If she didn’t give them what they wanted, she’d break anyway. Nikko was prepared to help that process along.

The door to the room hissed open and Mrs. Khalifa stepped out. Her robes clung to her with sweat, and she looked as though she had aged ten years in the last hour. The woman paused, then faced the trio of vanguards with tired, haunted eyes.

"I’m sorry," she said softly. "I tried everything... but nothing is working."

Nikko didn’t flinch. "You haven’t tried everything."

She stepped forward.

Mrs. Khalifa didn’t follow. Her hands trembled at her sides. She could only watch. Today, despite all her titles, all her knowledge, all her reputation, she’d been unable to help anyone. The thought hit like a whisper in her skull.

Useless.

As Nikko’s hand brushed the door, reality cracked.

One blink, she was mid-step—then suddenly, impossibly, she was back behind the glass, standing shoulder to shoulder with Raven and Rebecca again. The room that once held Eleanor and a full team of healers was now quiet, eerily still. Every healer had been transported out. And only Eleanor remained.

And someone else.

A man stood at Eleanor’s bedside.

His robes were simple, dull grey linen, his posture relaxed. He didn’t glow, didn’t radiate power. But the space around him felt wrong. The air obeyed him. The thrashing Eleanor stilled, not by force, but as if her agony bent out of respect.

Nikko’s breath caught.

No one had seen him enter.

No one could sense his presence before this moment.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, but it cracked with disbelief.

"...Father?"

****

In the shadows of the training fields, Governor Akira stood still, like he had been there all along.

He had never truly left since his last conversation with Leon. Sure, he vanished without notice afterward, but not out of fear of confronting his daughter. That would be beneath him. He was the Governor, after all. The Supreme Warden of the Federation. He couldn’t just abandon his successor to roam unchecked, especially not after the anomalies he had started noticing.

He’d seen enough to start asking questions no one dared voice.

’He learned the Dragon’s Art from her... and then improved it.’

The thought lingered in Akira’s mind like a slow-burning ember. His eyes narrowed.

’That overgrown lizard’s going to lose its mind when it finds out.’

But that wasn’t the priority right now.

He stepped forward from the shadows just as Eleanor’s body convulsed again on the ground, arms flailing, nails raking against the bed. The healers outside, were powerless to stop whatever was happening. And her screams were raw, guttural and drenched in something deeper than pain. Something... primal.

The Governor exhaled softly. A pulse of pressure rolled out from him, subtle and clean, like the stillness before a tidal wave, and in an instant, Eleanor’s thrashing slowed.

The demonic presence inside her, once raging unchecked, shuddered under the weight of his aura. Even weakened, it was still SS-rank—far beyond the capabilities of most healers or exorcists in the region. But Akira was no ordinary commander. As the Federation’s lone SSS-ranked Supreme Warden, he’d long since mastered the fine art of containment.

He knelt beside her with a calm that bordered on unnerving, his sharp eyes studying the broken girl. No fear. No sympathy. Just calculation.

Then he spoke, voice even but deep, laced with command.

"Previously, I couldn’t bring you out, as the connection was too unstable. But now..."

"Now it’s strong enough. You can’t hide anymore."

He placed his palm gently against Eleanor’s forehead. And then... he spoke.

The words that followed weren’t in any known language. They came out garbled and raw, each syllable layered with something ancient, something not meant to be understood by mortal minds.

"@#$##$$#@#"#@@$$#$$$&#-+#(##..."

"Fuse."

Eleanor’s body arched as if yanked by invisible strings. Her scream cracked the air like lightning, ripping through the silence that followed the Governor’s incantation. It wasn’t a cry of agony anymore, it was something deeper, a sound that rattled the spine and chilled the marrow.

Then, silence.

Her body dropped like a puppet with cut strings. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

And then her eyes opened.

Not the eyes of a traumatized girl who had tasted the worst of this world...

But eyes of something else entirely.

Something timeless.

Something ancient.

Governor Akira watched with a flicker of intrigue.

"Let’s see what you really are."

****

Bal’ark had once been a name whispered only in fear, a demon lord of the highest order, an SS-rank monstrosity whose power could turn kingdoms to ash. Yet here he was, reduced to the manipulator of a young F-rank girl. Eleanor. If that wasn’t a sick joke, no one knew what was. But then, nothing about demon politics ever made sense; cruelty and absurdity walked hand in hand in their world.

The mission had been simple on paper: infiltrate the Federation, worm into the hearts of its youth, and get close to the Vessel. Once secured, bring him back to fulfill the prophecy. Eleanor hadn’t been Bal’ark’s only pawn, she was just the one who managed to succeed. She had gotten closer than any of the others.

And then it had all gone to hell.

One wrong move, one twist of fate, and the great Bal’ark’s essence was bound inside her fragile human body. His mind, his memories, his dangerous knowledge, all now ripe for the Federation to pry apart piece by piece. If they succeeded, the demons’ plans wouldn’t just be delayed. They’d be set back half a century.

For a demon lord, it was worse than death.