CHAPTER 98: HE’S NICER THAN I THOUGHT

The plan was simple, Johan, Sebastian, and Olivia would face him as tanks to keep it busy, while Orihime would use her spell [Paper Magic: I Am] to make sure they didn’t fall while using ranged attacks.

Johan’s eyes reflected the black, slimy long sword made purely from his melted Aether, laced with minor properties of [Defuse].

Instantly, two swords similar to the one in his hand manifested in thin air, and he passed them to Sebastian and Olivia.

This was the key to defeating that Daimon—these swords could actively dematerialize matter at a touch. Even though that creature wouldn’t give Johan enough time to cast a proper [Defuse],

They could still kill it.

Sebastian’s face brightened as he observed the sharp blade on both sides of the katana, while Olivia stared, marveling at the raw beauty of the weapon.

"Olivia, you stay behind me. Only come forward if I’m about to get hit—and take the hit for me. Remember, your purpose is defense, not offense," Sebastian explained calmly.

It was obvious now to everyone that Olivia had never touched a sword, never studied martial arts, or even physically trained in her life.

She just relied purely on her instincts—like tearing monsters with her nails, or throwing sloppy punches that blew their heads off. Only her high stats had kept her useful so far.

Johan nodded, "I’ll support you while tanking the hits the same way. Just trust us and focus purely on offense, and cutting that thing down," he said seriously. He also lacked formal physical combat skills, but was forced to learn techniques at a young age—skills that, paired with his now high strength, became very useful.

But even with that, he wouldn’t call himself a master like Sebastian.

Sebastian had officially passed ten brutal trials set by the Sword Saint of the Crimson Empire (one of the Holy Dragons) and earned the title of Sword Saint, just like Radhaan.

Johan was sure Sebastian’s raw swordsmanship was almost equal to Radhaan’s.

Sebastian nodded, understanding Johan’s logic.

Johan’s hands joined in a praying motion as a red light began glowing in his palm. With that light, he quickly touched both Sebastian and Olivia’s backs, then himself.

He had cast [Chaos Heir], a spell that increased their stats based on how exhausted they felt. Half their strength left? Stats would directly double.

This was immensely useful to keep fighting without tiring out—especially for humans, since they weren’t manabeasts or demons with limitless stamina and natural energy reserves.

They drew close to one another, then slowly started walking toward a small wooden door—more suited for a countryside hut than this place.

Their boots echoed against the grey-bricked road.

Suddenly, blue-flamed lanterns entered their sight, providing a hint of warmth amid the thick darkness.

A heavy smell of blood and death crawled into their noses, but only Olivia looked disgusted—the others were long used to it.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Their footsteps echoed in the closed corridor as Sebastian walked closer to the door. With a soft touch—

The door shattered into thousands of pieces.

Johan and Olivia both flanked Sebastian, one on the left, one on the right, cautiously scanning for any trace of the Daimon.

Orihime, wasting no time, raised both her arms high—

[Paper Magic: I Am]

Immediately, thick white liquid began flowing from every corner of the narrow passage revealed by the shattered door.

Sebastian raised the katana defensively, cautiously pressing forward through the path.

Suddenly, his eyes widened as he saw a beautiful woman lying dead on the floor, bleeding profusely from the spot where her head should’ve been.

But... the head was placed right beside her.

Breathing.

Crying.

Its eyes filled with despair.

Orihime’s pupils trembled. It was her head. The clone that should’ve vanished into nothingness after she lost all connection with it—why was it still alive?

Even she trembled in fear as she saw her own face—without skin, a broken nose, and dull eyes that had simply accepted their fate.

"Daimons are users of fell Hex. They get their powers through the negative emotions of others and themselves.

This one must’ve found a way to keep the clone alive, then raised her negative emotions to recover his Aether reserves," Johan explained solemnly, his eyes never leaving Orihime’s dull clone.

Orihime’s knuckles clenched so tightly that blood began pooling from her fists, her face pale and filled with fear.

Fortunately, she hadn’t felt the torture the clone went through. But it was still her.

Johan, without a word, walked toward the shaking body in a beautiful black Victorian dress, half torn, revealing her legs and slim waist.

"Johan, what are you..." Orihime asked, taking a deep breath, trying her hardest to stay calm.

Johan raised the katana, emotionally. Not replying immediately.

"Cover your eyes," Sebastian suggested to Orihime without looking at her, slightly unnerved by the brutality of someone he respected.

Orihime understood what Johan was about to do. She opened her mouth to protest—she could reconnect her Aether threads to the clone and extract information—but she hesitated.

’He already knew everything about me—He must know this too. So, he’s doing this because he doesn’t want me to go through the memories?’ she thought, feeling a strange warmth in her chest, wrapped in Olivia’s arms, who was trying her hardest to support her.

She smiled, covering her eyes. ’Johan is better than I thought...’

Tuck!

The [Defuse] katana pierced through Orihime’s chest, reaching her heart as the body stopped shivering. Immediately, her heart stopped beating, and the light in her eyes vanished.

But there were no screams, as the group had expected—only a warm, grateful smile.

The blue lanterns hanging in the narrow, grey-bricked pathway trembled violently as the wooden walls started to crack, and bricks pushed out from the floor as if an earthquake had hit them.

Orihime’s head sharply turned toward the dark corner where the passage led, sensing something enter her spell zone.

Her eyes widened.

A knight-like burly body, wearing light gray armor and a helmet, with nothing visible but its glowing purple eyes, leisurely walked closer.

One step at a time.

And with every step, the ground beneath cracked—as if it couldn’t bear the pressure.

And from the bloodthirst seeping out from its eyes, they could tell at least one thing—

He was angry.