CHAPTER 39: SHE BROUGHT A WEAPON, AND IT WAS LOVE.

A pole.

Humanity’s finest creation. It’s elegant in its simplicity and versatile in its purpose.

Even when it’s rusted, it doesn’t retire—it evolves. Because, at the end of the day, it still has one glorious use.

To be shoved up someone’s ass.

Creatively. Mercilessly. And preferably sideways.

Now, normally, I don’t spend my precious brainpower thinking about the tactical applications of rusty poles.

But when one is threatened upon your future corpse—by someone who sounds way too sincere about it—your body tends to go cold.

"If you die or get injured out there without my permission, I’ll resurrect you... and shove a rusty pole somewhere very creatively."

Now how did I get to this situation when I was just peacefully trying to check my status window right?

It all began with a perfectly normal entrance by a perfectly sane person.

The girl who never knocks. The woman who weaponized sibling affection into blunt-force trauma. The sister who, without fail, believes the best way to say ’I missed you’ is by attempting to end my bloodline with a single kick.

My tormentor since childhood. My elder sister—Lyra.

She stormed into my room, holding a long, familiar and dangerously nostalgic object in one hand: a rusty iron pole.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little brat?" she demanded.

And in that moment, my brain performed a full-speed scan through every possible crime I may or may not have committed in the last forty-eight hours.

But apparently, the reason she came armed with a rusty relic from my childhood trauma wasn’t

because I accidentally killed a few bears...

... Nor was it because I witnessed—and possibly emotionally instigated—the heartbreak of my poor subordinate.

No.

It was something far worse.

I hadn’t responded to a message she sent me this morning.

Apparently, she had come all the way home from her academy—sacrificing precious study hours before her final exams tomorrow—just to threaten me over the sin of ignoring her texts.

Ahh, sisterly love.

And the pole in her hand? Yeah it was something she called Pole of Justice.

The pole was the weapon she used whenever the previous Rael tried to rebel against her.

It was a F-Rank Artifact with one simple function... The more the opponent resists, the harder the pain he will feel.

F-Rank Artifact, unlike higher rank artifacts, sometimes didn’t need mana or refinement... and could be used by even normal people without awakening.

But such artifacts were rare. Like one in a thousand.

And somehow one such artifact was gifted to Lyra... by my grandfather at her tenth birthday.

Ever since then, it has been a hell for the previous Rael.

Every time he denied her or tried rebelling, he got hit... half of the dents on it were from him.

But today felt... different.

She said she was here to punish me but the softness in her eyes wasn’t lost on me. It never was to previous Rael either.

It was an undeniable truth: she cared more than anyone else ever dared to.

No matter what kind of bastard the previous Rael was... And no matter how ruthless Lyra acted... He had always respected her.

When their mother died... she was just twelve but she didn’t cry.

Instead, she held her little brother and told him it would be okay. Even when it wasn’t okay for her.

Every time he fell, she didn’t console him... She taught me how to curse the ground beneath.

I remember all of it. Every memory. Every emotion. Clear as day. I inherited them too perfectly to feel foreign. And maybe—just maybe—That’s why I still feel the same.

I respect her.

After a few minutes of our usual sibling banter, passive-aggressive reminiscing, and me barely dodging the pole twice—

I felt light.

Like all the exhaustion and mental weight I hadn’t even noticed... just washed away.

And that’s how we got to this point... to the weirdly creative threat.

I looked at the black-haired girl who was just a tad bit shorter than me, holding a pole in her hand like a local gangster.

Her crimson eyes were calm but not without a flicker of worry.

"If you die or get injured out there without my permission, I’ll resurrect you... and shove a rusty pole somewhere very creatively."

It was, perhaps, the strangest way anyone had ever told me to take care of myself. But I nodded quietly because I understood what she meant.

"Yeah," I muttered. "And you don’t get hurt either or I won’t be able to take revenge for all the misery you’ve put me through."

Her eyes narrowed.

"What did you just say, you little brat?"

She raised her hand, gripping the pole as if ready to strike me down for old time’s sake.

I didn’t move...

But the pole didn’t come crashing down.

Instead... she extended it toward me.

"Take this," she said, her voice softer than I expected. "This pole will keep my threat in your mind."

With those words, she turned.

"And don’t worry about Ru..." she added, just before leaving. "I’ll send her messages in your name."

And just like that, she was gone.

Leaving behind nothing but silence and a pole heavy with memory.

The reason she said that, when I could’ve just messaged Ru myself, was simple:

Unlike the Human Domain, demons hated scientific technology. They believed it made people dumber by the day. That it dulled instincts, blurred tradition and fed laziness they couldn’t afford.

Of course, that didn’t mean they had no tech. They just refused anything human-made.

Instead of digital systems, they used only magic for everything—communication, computation and even transportation.

If I had to compare, the Demon Continent was like a mediaeval fantasy world that had evolved with magic instead of science.

Still, that wasn’t the reason I wouldn’t be able to contact my family.

Nope.

Honestly, it’d be foolish to think a technically advanced civilization—even one powered by magic—had no means of long-distance communication.

The real reason was simple as it goes: Noxvalen Academy doesn’t allow outside contact.

Once you enter the academy city, you’re cut off from the rest of the world most of the time.

They don’t care where you came from. Hell, they barely acknowledge that you had a family at all.

With a sigh, I placed the rusty pole gently on my table.

Then I flopped back onto my bed.

It was nearly midnight. My eyes were heavy and my body, heavier.

But I still had one last task left.

One sacred mission I had failed again and again.

To finally check my damn Status Window.

"Status"

I muttered the words again... and this time, thankfully, there was no more interruption as my status finally appeared before me.