CHAPTER 138: WHISPERER OF DEATH

"...pigbutt, donkey brain and chicken poop."

Finally, after a torrent of insults that seemed endless, her breath came out in a long sigh. Her chest rose and fell as though she’d spent every ounce of energy pouring those degrading words into the air.

Then she leaned closer, lowering herself until the heavy weight of her breasts almost pressed against his face. Her icy voice dropped low, almost intimate in its cruelty.

"How about that, Mika?" She asked, her lips curling faintly. "Do you feel like dying right now? Do you feel like throwing yourself out the window after hearing me call you all those things?"

But Mika didn’t flinch. He didn’t shrink. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed, shamelessly, on the curves that dominated his vision.

A small, satisfied smile played on his lips as he said quietly, "No. Not at all."

His tone was relaxed, almost cheerful as he continued saying,

"Honestly, it was like you were singing into my ears. No matter what you said, it didn’t hurt at all. It felt...pleasant, even. Almost like a lullaby. And that’s only because of them."

His eyes flicked down again.

"Your breasts. They really are divine. They can make even the most negative things turn into something positive."

Her chest jiggled slightly as though she’d rolled her eyes, but her voice carried both annoyance and amusement.

"Of course. As expected from a lust-filled demon like you. It only makes sense that you’d twist it that way."

"...Against your shamelessness, I’m no match at all. I must be the idiot here, thinking I could outlast you in something like this."

Mika only chuckled, but then he lifted his gaze just a little, smirk still fixed.

"But still...I’ll admit, some of the things you said did sting, even if just a little. So..." He raised a hand, fingers curling as though he was about to grope her. "I demand compensation and I wouldn’t mind if that compensation was a feel of your breasts."

Mika’s hand hovered in the air, fingers curling with a playful, teasing intent, as if he were moments away from crossing a line.

But before his hand could move any closer, her voice sliced through the tension.

"You know..." She began, her tone deceptively calm but laced with a dangerous edge. "The first thing that came to mind was to say—"

’I wouldn’t mind at all if you groped my breasts, Mika. That is, as long as you don’t mind that they’ll be the last thing your hands ever feel, since I’d break every single finger that dared touch them afterward.’

Mika froze, his hand still raised, but his grin didn’t falter.

"But then..." She went on, her voice dropping to a mocking drawl. "I realized who I was dealing with. That kind of threat wouldn’t work on you, would it? You’re the kind of shameless pervert who’d probably think broken fingers are a fair price for a moment like that."

Mika chuckled, low and unapologetic, his hand still lingering in the air but not advancing. "You’re not wrong." He said, his tone light but carrying a hint of challenge. "I’d probably consider it a bargain."

"Of course you would. So, instead of that, let me put it this way: if you so much as try to touch me, I’ll wrap my chest in bandages so tight you won’t even be able to guess their shape or size."

"I’ll do it for the rest of the school year, Mika. Every single day, I’ll make sure these..." She gave a slight shake of her chest. "...are completely hidden. Gone. Concealed under layers so thick you’ll forget they even exist."

Mika blinked, then let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

"Damn...you got me there. You definitely got me there." He leaned forward too, closing the space just enough for his smirk to turn sharper. "All those insults? They weren’t enough to make me want to throw myself out the window."

"...But the thought of never seeing those magnificent breasts straining against your shirt again? That’s the one thing that really might drive me over the edge."

For once, the girl actually chuckled, a soft, almost amused sound despite the iciness of her words.

"Pathetic."

"Maybe. But you really do know me better than anyone else..."

"...Maria."

Mika then leaned forward and finally turned his head to reveal the girl who had been hovering her chest over his face the whole time.

Maria Deveste.

And she was, without question, an impeccable beauty.

Her long, dark hair was parted neatly and tied into two braids that framed her face, giving her a tidy, composed appearance.

A pair of sleek, black-framed glasses perched on her nose, sharp and professional, lending her the aura of someone studious, precise, and in control.

Her skin was smooth and vibrant, glowing with health, while her nose was small and straight. Her lips, full and naturally pink, were plump enough to draw the eye, always seeming a touch too lush for someone who carried herself with such an air of cold detachment.

But more than her face or her figure, what struck people most were her eyes.

Those dark eyes, cutting, disdainful, and amused all at once. They carried the weight of someone who looked down upon the world itself, detached and clouded, as though nothing could truly touch her.

Just meeting her gaze was enough to send a shiver down the spine of most who dared. Yet, right now, those same eyes were trained on Mika, filled not with disdain, but with intrigue.

A faint curl tugged at her lips, not quite a smile, more a smirk of amusement, like she’d found a peculiar creature worth observing.

And of course, her body was impossible to ignore.

A slim waist that curved into wide hips, a generous butt, and most of all, her breasts, full and heavy, straining against her uniform shirt. They had been the reason Mika hadn’t been able to see anything a moment ago, smothered as he was beneath their weighty presence.

This was Maria Deveste—Mika’s one and only friend in the entire academy.

That was why Mika could be so brazen, so shameless with her. Around her, he let his guard down and let his worst habits come out, because she was the only one who didn’t scorn him, but instead found amusement in his antics.

And Maria, for her part, entertained it all without flinching, without caring what others thought. To her, his shamelessness wasn’t repulsive, it was amusing.

They were close, bound not by appearances or reputation, but by a strange mutual understanding.

Both of them, after all, were outsiders here.

Loner figures who stood apart from the rest.

From the very beginning of the school year, Maria had stood out, just as Mika had. But for different reasons.

While Mika’s reputation was marred by the infamous leak of his files and the cruel titles he carried because of it, Maria’s fame stemmed from something purer.

She was the only scholarship student in the entire support class.

Normally, entry into Solaria Beyond Academy was simple: as long as a person had a blessing, no matter its nature or strength, they could join.

Blessed were the future, their powers would one day save lives, so the academy took them in regardless of their wealth, background, or origins. Rich, poor, noble, or slum-born, it didn’t matter. The academy opened its gates to all blessed, training them for the battles to come.

But the support class...the support class was different.

It was the one place where even those without blessings could gain entry. And because of that, the demand to join it was immense.

Mortals without blessings dreamed of entering Solaria Beyond, the organization that governed all blessed training and warfare. Connections, opportunities, prestige, all of it opened up just by stepping into the academy as a supporter.

Even if it meant being treated like servants, even if it meant living in the shadows of the blessed, families fought tooth and nail to put their children there.

Money changed hands, bribes were made, politics were pulled, parents did whatever it took to buy their children a seat.

And so, the support class was filled with the children of the elite, the richest of the rich, the most powerful of families. Every student in it was backed by wealth and influence.

Mika himself was no exception, he was here on the recommendation of the Battle Angels themselves, a fact that explained his entry without question.

But Maria...Maria was different.

She hadn’t bought her way in. She hadn’t leaned on anyone’s influence. She had earned it. She had passed every test Solaria Beyond Academy threw at her, aced them flawlessly.

Theoretical exams, practical training, military drills, endurance trials, mental evaluations, every single one she had crushed. She had proven herself so thoroughly that the academy’s management had personally reached out to invite her in.

That made her the shining star of the support class. A student who belonged there by merit, by raw skill, unlike the pampered elites that filled the rest of the seats.

She was everything they weren’t.

But what made Maria stand out even more than her already extraordinary brilliance, and turned the bright star she was into something darker, almost like a black sun that carried misfortune and dread, was her personality.

Aloof, unyielding, unbothered. From the very first day of the school year, she carried herself with an air that made it clear she wasn’t here to make friends, wasn’t here to indulge in shallow connections.

Many were drawn to her beauty, her aura, and her reputation. Sons of noble families, daughters of high-ranking federation officials, students of wealth and influence who thought their names alone could sway her, approached her in droves, wanting her friendship, her acknowledgement, even her affection.

And yet, every attempt ended in the same way: with her looking them in the eye, expression detached, and simply saying.

"Don’t bother me."

"Please don’t talk to me."

"Don’t approach me again."

And the way she said it, icy eyes boring straight into their soul, scanning them up and down as though stripping them naked, was enough to freeze them in place. Many walked away trembling, humiliated, unable to shake the memory of her gaze.

To Maria, they were distractions, pests. She wasn’t here for them. She was here for the academy itself, for knowledge, for mastery, for the number one spot she believed belonged to her alone.

But not everyone could take a hint. Some persisted. Especially the boys, enchanted by her beauty, intoxicated by the challenge she represented.

Support-class boys tried their luck. Blessed students, too, came to her, assuming their status guaranteed success. They thought she would eventually fold, bend, give in.

They were wrong.

For when Maria decided someone had become too much of a pest, she didn’t just ignore them, she destroyed them. She would lean close, whisper a few words in that cold, unfeeling tone of hers, and whatever she said, always perfectly aimed, like a knife to the heart, would break them.

Boys who moments earlier had stood tall and proud would collapse, sobbing, sometimes crying out for their mothers as if their lives had just been shattered. And she left them like that, ruined and humiliated.

And though that was terrifying enough, the event that cemented her reputation happened only weeks into the semester.

There was one boy in particular, arrogant, spoiled, blessed with an A-class power and boasting of royal blood. He thought himself untouchable, too important to be refused.

Again and again, he hounded Maria, proposing, pestering, cornering her with his so-called charm. No matter how many times she dismissed him, he refused to leave her alone.

Until, finally, Maria had enough.

One day, she walked straight into his classroom, in front of all his friends and classmates. Whispers spread like wildfire, was she finally accepting his pursuit? Was she going to confess to him? The boy himself beamed, smug and giddy, believing his persistence had paid off.

But when Maria leaned down and whispered in his ear, his expression twisted.

Excitement melted into horror. His face drained of blood, lips trembling as though she had revealed something no one should ever know. And then, with a soft, amused smile, she turned and walked away, leaving him there, broken.

He too staggered out soon after, body weak, face pale. His classmates thought he was headed to the infirmary.

But moments later, the entire academy was shaken by the sound of a crash.

The boy had actually hurled himself from a high window, his body broken and bleeding on the roof of a car. He barely survived, clinging to life, and the whispers began immediately.

Everyone knew. It had to be her. Whatever she said, it had driven him to that point.

And from that day forward, Maria became a figure of fear. Students avoided her like a plague, terrified that even speaking to her could bring about their ruin.

They gave her a name: the Whisperer of Death. It stuck, echoing through the halls like a curse.

That was why she was so feared, so isolated.

And that was probably why Mika and Maria became friends. Both misfits, both treated like plagues, both walking shadows in a school filled with light. It only made sense they would gravitate toward one another.

They were, after all, each other’s only companion...

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Illustrations for Maria Deveste are in the discord (NSFW), character description page, and the comments...Check them out!