CHAPTER 113: CHAPTER 113 - THROUGH THE LENS OF TRUTH

[A reporter’s POV]

They call me Farrel Ronfield, field journalist for the Central Chronicle. My job? To chase shadows and expose the truths others bury. When whispers of renewed Devil Cult activity began trickling in from this quiet region of the continent, I knew I had to come. Cults don’t just vanish—they go underground, rot like maggots beneath the surface... and fester.

I’ve been here for two weeks now. Living cheap, eating worse. Asking questions in the taverns, bribing drunkards for half-truths, speaking to grieving families behind shuttered doors. Disappearances—children, elders, even guards—no common thread but one: they vanished without a sound.

This morning, I was near the old granary—an abandoned ruin choked in vines and mildew. I’d heard rumors, and I was following a lead. A half-burnt robe, strange symbols scrawled on a crate. My heart was pounding. I fished out my magical camera, began documenting...

That’s when I felt the air turn cold.

A presence—dark, oppressive. A low, sickening chuckle echoed through the rafters.

"Jijijijijii..."

I spun around—and froze. A robed figure, face half-hidden beneath a cracked bone mask, stood at the entrance. I knew that resisting would mean death or worse. So I collapsed, feigning unconsciousness , waiting to catch him off guard so I could use my artifact . My heart thundered as he dragged me by the legs through dirt and splinters. His laughter... gods, it scraped across my soul like rusted nails.

But then—he stopped. Dropped me like a sack of wheat.

I risked opening one eye.

Two teenagers. The boy held twin sabers, their edges glinting like judgment itself. The girl—white hair cascading like snow, eyes cold and precise—stood beside him. I wanted to scream. To warn them.

But I didn’t need to.

The moment the cultist lunged, they moved.

A blur.

A clash.

A cry.

The boy’s sabers flashed, slicing through the cultist’s defense like parchment. The girl struck pressure points with clinical grace. In under ten seconds, he was on the ground, gasping and twitching. I stumbled back, hiding behind a crumbled pillar, heart hammering. Who were these two?

Then I heard them question him—about the cult’s base. The boy’s voice was low, sharp. He pressed his saber to the man’s throat.

But the cultist just laughed again, "You all will be sacrificed..."

And then—boom. He exploded into a mess of gore and ash. I barely suppressed my gag.

The two turned, exchanged grim glances, and left.

I wiped blood-splatter off my lens, whispered, "My reporting senses are screaming—I have to follow them."

And so I did. I was not worried that they would detect me, I have done it many times.

They scoured the area. 1st the ravine path ,then the ruins. They were searching. But it didn’t seem like they found anything solid. At nightfall, they entered a quiet inn. I took position in the alley across the street, curled in a blanket, teeth chattering from cold and nerves.

One hour passed.

Then two.

I yawned, tempted to rest, when—

CRASH.

They burst from the inn—eyes wide with alarm. The boy—his aura was different. Frantic. Furious. He knelt by the street, fingers grazing some trace as he picked up something, then took off like a stormwind. The girl followed close behind, face set with grim focus.

"I should follow them," I muttered again, sprinting after their trail.

I barely kept up.

They tore through the district, out toward the woods. When I finally caught up, panting, gasping—my eyes widened.

Beasts. Horrid, snarling things lunged from the trees. Corrupted beasts. The girl was already casting icy sigils. The boy—

Gods above. The boy fought like a spirit of vengeance.

His twin sabers danced—no, howled through the air. Each slash cut deeper than steel. One beast lunged, jaws open—and was cleaved in half before it landed. Another charged from the rear—he turned mid-spin, blade slitting its throat clean.

I raised my magic camera. My hands trembled but the shutter clicked, over and over. I zoomed in. Crimson eyes. Dark violet hair matted in sweat and blood. That stance. Those blades...

Wait.

This boy...

This same boy...

Wasn’t he the one who injured the Beastridge Dragon?

The one who received the Medal of Honor from Her Majesty herself?

What was his name again? Shi—!

He vanished again. I cursed, stumbling forward, trying to keep up. The forest twisted and turned. I thought I lost them.

As I looked around here and there, until—

A tremor shook the ground.

A deep, unnatural silence fell.

I heard a crack, a roar of mana, and a scream—cut short.

I followed the sound. A ruined church loomed ahead, its stained glass shattered, walls blackened. I crept to a broken window. Peered in.

And my breath left me.

There he was.

The boy.

Standing amidst a field of corpses.

Cultists—at least 20 of them. Torn apart.

One man was nailed to a broken pillar by his own arm. Another’s head rolled to a stop near the altar, mouth still agape. Blood pooled across the floor, soaking the boy’s boots.

He stood in the center, panting, sabers limp at his sides, his entire frame coated in crimson. His chest rose and fell like a beast just finished feasting. His expression...

Was not human.

He stumbled to a boulder at the edge, collapsed against it, chest heaving. His hands dangled at his sides, blades still dripping. For a moment, he looked less like a boy and more like a demon carved from wrath itself.

I should have been running.

But my hands moved on their own.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Each photo captured the truth—raw, unfiltered, horrifying truth.

And I whispered to myself as I remembered the name"

"Luca Valentine"

"This... this is a story that could shake the empire again."

****

[Back to Present]

The wind whistled gently past them as the Ice Phoenix

soared across the pastel morning sky, wings outstretched like living blades of sapphire and frost. The sun’s early rays glimmered off the fine mist of mana surrounding them, casting prismatic flares in the air.

Luca sat behind Selena, his arms carefully around the tiny bundle of warmth nestled between them—a baby dragon with golden-blonde hair and small, shimmering crimson horns that caught the light. The little dragon girl squirmed in his lap, her high-pitched giggle echoing through the wind.

"Hehehehe~ Papa! Ehehe!"

Luca chuckled, tickling her under her chin with a finger. "What’s so funny, huh? You’re so ticklish."

She squealed with joy, curling closer to his chest, her tiny claws clutching his shirt like she never wanted to let go.

Selena glanced over her shoulder, a rare softness in her usually icy gaze. Watching Luca coo and laugh like that... It felt surreal. Just last night, he’d torn a woman’s arms from her body, roaring in cold fury. The memory of blood splattering across the old church walls was still fresh, and yet here he was, playing with a child, his smile warmer than the sun behind them.

Is he really the same person? she thought. How can someone... shift like that?

She turned forward again, tightening her grip on the Phoenix’s reins.

"Well," Luca said casually, shifting his weight a little so the baby could nuzzle into his coat more comfortably, "we completed the mission quietly. That’s all that matters."

"Mn." Selena nodded. "The people don’t know anything. If this got out... the fear about cultists would skyrocket, knowing they are so near them already."

Luca leaned back, letting the cold wind rush past his face. "Yeah. Best if no one hears about this."

Selena hesitated before speaking again. "But... When did you reach the Core Compression stage?" Her tone wasn’t accusatory—more curious, even concerned.

He rubbed the back of his head with an awkward grin. "The day before yesterday."

As he thought ,I retrieved the hidden piece while looking for information that night, and it was useful in smoothly breaking through core compression, that was also the backing for my confidence as when I took this mission, but there is no need to say all of that

Selena glanced at him again, sensing he wasn’t telling the whole truth... but then again, she didn’t care much.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, they finally approached the floating spires of Arcadia Academy, its towers catching the orange glow of evening. Mana-laced clouds parted gently as the Phoenix glided into the landing pad reserved for high-ranked missions.

The instant his boots touched the ground, Luca gave the little dragon one last head pat. "There. Safe and sound, princess."

"Hehehe~ Papa!"

As he summoned her back to the beast space.

Selena dismounted smoothly and said, "Nice co-operation with you, It was ... .good. See you tomorrow."

Luca nodded, giving a small wave. Then he turned, dragging his tired legs toward his dorm.

But something felt... off.

He slowed his steps, glancing around the dorm courtyard.

Students were walking by—some chatting in groups, others alone. Yet... the way their eyes flicked toward him... the brief whispers just as he passed... the subtle, stiffening of posture...

"Is that him?"

"Yeah, it’s him in there right?"

Why... am I getting these weird glances?