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Huang Da's mind went completely blank, all rational thought evaporating like water on hot stone. His heart hammered against his ribs with such violence that he could feel his pulse in his temples, filled with a single, panicked thought that repeated endlessly: How could the barrier have been triggered? The question circled in his skull like a trapped bird, offering no answers, only mounting dread.
He stammered, his voice cracking like an adolescent's, "Ancestor, we... we really didn't find anything unusual." The words felt hollow even as they left his mouth, carrying the desperate edge of someone who knew their explanation was inadequate but had nothing better to offer.
The old man's eyes narrowed to thin slits, old and calculating. The weight of his stare pressed down on Huang Da like a physical force, making the younger demon's knees weak. When he spoke, his voice carried the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.
"Tell me everything that happened during your watch."
Huang Da swallowed hard, his throat clicking audibly in the sudden silence. If he finds out I was slacking off, I'm in big trouble. The thought sent ice through his veins. It was an open secret that most of the guard teams treated their remote postings as opportunities for rest and relaxation—after all, who would actually try to infiltrate through such isolated positions? But if something went wrong on your watch, if your negligence could be blamed for a security breach...
He shuddered involuntarily, thinking of the clan's bloody disciplinary rules. He'd seen what happened to demons who failed in their duties. The Huang Clan didn't believe in second chances when it came to matters of security.
"The Ancestor asked you to speak. Did you not hear him?" Lord Huang's voice cut through the air like a blade, cold enough to freeze blood. The clan leader's tone carried undertones of barely controlled anger not just at Huang Da's hesitation, but at the potential embarrassment this situation represented.
Huang Da's body went rigid, every muscle locking in place as if he'd been struck by lightning. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably as he forced himself to speak, recounting the events of their shift with the desperate precision of someone whose life hung in the balance. He embellished his own diligence as much as possible, describing vigilant patrols and careful observation that had never actually occurred.
But as he reached the part about Grak's extended bathroom break, describing how his teammate had wandered off alone to handle personal business in that remote area, the old man suddenly held up one gnarled hand.
"Which one is Grak?"
The question fell like a stone into still water, sending ripples of tension through the assembled crowd. Huang Da felt his stomach drop as he realized the Ancestor's attention was now focused on his patrol member. Stunned, he turned and pointed directly at Russell with a finger that shook despite his efforts to control it.
"He's... he's fine, though," Huang Da added quickly, desperation creeping into his voice. "I tested him using a method unique to our race." He was referring to the scent gland identification, the biological password system that had confirmed Grak's identity when he'd returned from his extended absence.
Lord Huang, hearing this explanation, opened his mouth to declare that there was no problem with the identification procedures. His clan had developed those biological markers specifically to prevent infiltration attempts. But before he could speak, he caught sight of the old man's expression a quiet, unblinking stare that carried layers of meaning.
The Ancestor's eyes held patient wisdom and underlying suspicion that couldn't be dismissed with simple explanations. Lord Huang understood immediately. Whatever confidence he might have in their security measures, the elderly demon wanted personal verification.
"Grak," Lord Huang commanded, his voice carrying clearly across the cavern space, "come here."
Russell, who had been maintaining his position at the back of the crowd, felt shock lance through his system like an electric current when he heard his alias called. Throughout the interrogation, he'd watched Huang Da shaking like a leaf caught in a hurricane, mumbling responses to the old man's questions. The patrol leader's obvious terror had been both reassuring and concerning reassuring because it suggested genuine ignorance of Russell's true nature, concerning because it indicated just how serious the consequences of discovery would be.
Have I been discovered? The thought blazed through his mind as he considered his options. His magical senses, kept at their absolute minimum to avoid detection, still couldn't get a clear read on the elderly demon's capabilities. But the deference shown by Lord Huang suggested someone of significant power.
Russell arranged his features into an expression of confusion tinged with appropriate panic the look of a grunt soldier suddenly called before high command for unknown reasons. He pushed through the crowd with hurried steps, his borrowed gait carrying him to the front of the assembled demons.
"Lord Huang," he said, allowing his voice to carry just the right note of nervous uncertainty, "you called for me?"
Lord Huang nodded slightly, his attention divided between Russell and the Ancestor's continued scrutiny. "The Ancestor has something to ask you."
Russell allowed his gaze to shift between the two authority figures, noting how Lord Huang had subtly positioned himself to block the most direct path of retreat. The movement was casual, almost unconscious, but it spoke to ingrained tactical thinking. They weren't just asking questions they were prepared to prevent escape if necessary.
He turned to face the elderly demon directly, arranging his expression into a mixture of confusion and appropriate fear. "Ancestor."
The old man raised one weathered hand in a gesture that commanded immediate silence, then began to examine Russell with the methodical intensity of a jeweler studying a potentially flawed gemstone. His old eyes moved systematically taking in posture, facial expressions, the way Russell held his hands, the subtle signs of stress or deception that most people couldn't consciously control.
Russell forced himself to maintain the appearance of calm while his mind raced through contingency plans. What went wrong? The scent glands had worked perfectly, convincing Huang Da and the others of his identity. His transformation was flawless Arrogance had captured every detail of Grak's appearance. His behavior had been appropriately sullen and withdrawn, matching what little he knew of the real demon's personality.
Fortunately, there aren't many silver-level demons here right now, he thought, taking a quick mental inventory of the magical signatures he could detect. Lord Huang was definitely silver-level, and the Ancestor radiated power that suggested similar or greater capabilities. But the crowd around them was mostly bronze-level or lower. If I'm really exposed, I'll just have to summon Lily and Retsu to cover my retreat.
The silence stretched to what felt like a freezing point, tension ratcheting higher with each passing second. Russell could feel sweat beginning to form under his disguised skin despite the cool underground air. Just as he was preparing to call forth his cards and fight his way out of the situation, the old man finally spoke.
"How is your family doing recently?" The question came with deceptive casualness, but Russell caught the underlying sharpness. "Are you dissatisfied with the arrangements of the clan?"
Russell felt a moment of cold satisfaction as he recognized the nature of the test. This wasn't about specific security breaches or infiltration techniques it was a psychological probe designed to catch an impostor off-guard. Someone pretending to be Grak might not know about his family situation, might give an answer that revealed their deception.
But Russell had been handed this information on a silver platter earlier, when Huang Da had made his thoughtless comment about creatures from the outside world. He sneered internally at the obvious trap while arranging his features into an expression of profound sadness.
"Ancestor," he said, allowing genuine emotion to creep into his voicemthough not the emotion the listeners might assume, "my parents died at the hands of those scum."
His choice of words was very particular. "Those scum" rather than "outsiders" or "invaders"—the kind of bitter, personal language someone might use when referring to the killers of their family. The phrase carried years of accumulated hatred and grief, exactly what would be expected from an orphaned young demon.
A trace of surprise and doubt flashed in the old man's eyes, quickly suppressed but not quickly enough to escape Russell's notice. The question had been a test, a carefully crafted attempt to deceive the person in front of him into revealing their true nature. But Russell had handled it perfectly, providing exactly the kind of response that would come from the real Grak.
Moreover, Russell realized, the Ancestor had been conducting his own subtle examination during this entire conversation. His old eyes had been cataloging physical details, looking for signs of deception or transformation. But from his perspective, the "Grak" in front of him was indeed a half-human weasel, complete with the correct genetic markers and biological signatures.
After a moment of heavy silence, during which Russell could practically hear the gears turning in the old demon's head, the Ancestor waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.
"Take all the members of their team away first," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Keep them under good care."
Russell caught the euphemistic nature of that final instruction. "Good care" in this context almost certainly meant careful imprisonment, possibly followed by quiet execution once the current crisis had passed.
The Ancestor's expression suggested a man caught between competing pressures. Russell could read the frustration in those old features in the past, this elderly demon would likely have simply killed anyone who was even slightly suspicious. The direct approach, brutal but effective. But circumstances had changed.
Having just taken refuge in this underground space, the demon population was already in a state of barely controlled panic. Their world had been turned upside down, their previous lives destroyed, their future uncertain. The Ancestor's position, while respected, was not as unshakeable as it might once have been. Russell could sense the political undercurrents there were still many in the clan who were watching the leadership, waiting for signs of weakness or poor judgment.
The barrier detection system could only determine the rough area that had been disturbed; it provided no more specific information about the nature or identity of the intruder. But there was also some good news from the Ancestor's perspective. The fact that this unknown entity had needed to sneak in rather than assault the main entrance suggested they weren't overwhelmingly powerful.
"Someone, take them away," Lord Huang commanded, his voice carrying clear finality.
Russell remained outwardly calm, recognizing that he had managed to navigate this immediate hurdle without major danger. The test had been psychological rather than magical, and his preparation had proven adequate. However, he maintained his performance, pretending to share Huang Da's confusion and mounting panic.
"This is unfair, Ancestor!" he shouted, allowing his voice to crack with genuine-sounding distress. The protest was exactly what would be expected from a confused subordinate who didn't understand why his patrol was being singled out for punishment.
Lord Huang simply waved at the demons who were moving forward to escort them away, his expression suggesting weary patience with subordinates who couldn't grasp the larger picture.
"Take them away quickly," he said with obvious irritation. "Don't let them embarrass themselves here."
It's good enough to be alive, Russell caught the unspoken subtext in the clan leader's tone. These little demons really can't see the situation clearly. From Lord Huang's perspective, his kinsman and the patrol were lucky to be facing imprisonment rather than immediate execution.
The prison cell was exactly what Russell had expected a rough-hewn chamber carved directly from the mountain stone, with iron bars that had seen better days and a floor covered in straw that hadn't been changed in far too long. Since there were no windows in the dark space, natural or artificial, Russell had no way to track the passage of time. Hours could have passed, or perhaps only minutes—the underground environment played tricks with temporal perception.
The five of them, including Russell, were all displaying varying degrees of listlessness and despair. After all, no one would be happy to encounter such a dramatic reversal of fortune. What had started as a routine patrol shift had somehow become imprisonment under suspicion of security violations.
Huang Da sighed heavily, the sound echoing off the stone walls with depressing finality. "I don't know when we can get out," he muttered, his previous bluster completely deflated. Being related to the clan leadership clearly provided no protection once you'd fallen under official suspicion.
Then he turned his gaze toward Russell, and his expression shifted to something approaching anger. The look carried all the frustrated helplessness of someone looking for someone to blame for their predicament.
"If it weren't for you, with your lazy bathroom habits, we wouldn't be locked up here!" The accusation came out in a bitter rush, months of small irritations suddenly crystallizing into focused resentment.
Russell felt genuinely helpless at the unfairness of the complaint. From Huang Da's perspective, Grak's extended absence had been the catalyst for their current troubles. If he'd stayed close to the patrol, if he'd been present when the barrier was triggered, they might have been able to provide better answers to the Ancestor's questions.
"Then you can install a valve on my behind," Russell replied with deadpan practicality. "I can't control that kind of thing."
The response was so matter-of-fact, so completely reasonable, that Huang Da found himself suddenly speechless. He snorted heavily in frustration and turned away, clearly unable to argue with the basic realities of demon biology.
Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the prison corridors. Someone was coming, carrying what sounded like a metal container that clinked with each step.
"It's time to eat!" The voice belonged to a demon Russell hadn't seen before neatly dressed in clean clothing that stood out sharply against the rough prison environment. He placed a bucket of thick, gray paste in front of their cell, the contents of which defied easy identification.
Huang Da's entire demeanor changed at the sight of food. He swallowed audibly, his previous despair momentarily forgotten in the face of basic hunger. "Finally!" he said with genuine enthusiasm. "I love this stuff."
Russell looked at him with barely concealed surprise. You guys eat this normally? The paste looked like something between gruel and clay, with a consistency that suggested it might have been nutritious but definitely wasn't appetizing.
He accepted the dirty wooden bowl that was passed through the bars and received his portion of the mysterious substance. Looking down at the unknown food with carefully neutral expression, he prepared to have Arrogance handle the consumption process safely.
"Arrogance," he thought, establishing mental contact with his symbiote partner, "cover my mouth when I put this in. Don't let this stuff actually enter my stomach."
But even as he made these preparations, Russell's instincts were screaming warnings. The demon who had brought their food was too suspicious in too many ways. His clothes were far too neat and clean for someone working in a prison environment. More importantly, Russell hadn't seen him among the guards when they'd been brought in and he made a point of memorizing faces and details of everyone he encountered.
He would rather be cautious than fall into a trap, Russell thought, his mind already working through the implications. After ruling out all other reasonable possibilities, only one explanation remained: the other party was here to kill them.
The logic was coldly practical. If I were in power, Russell mused, I would do the same thing. The Ancestor knew clearly that something was wrong with their patrol, even if he couldn't identify the specific problem. How could such a paranoid leader really allow potential security risks to remain alive in prison, consuming resources and potentially planning escapes?
Much better to eliminate the problem quietly and completely.
Russell watched as his cellmates eagerly consumed their portions of the gray paste, their hunger overcoming any suspicion they might have felt. Huang Da and the others seemed genuinely pleased to receive the meal, suggesting this was indeed their normal prison fare.
After everyone had finished their food, the delivery demon showed a look of obvious satisfaction on his face. His expression carried the pleased anticipation of someone whose task was nearly complete.
"Go well," he said, the meaningless words echoing strangely in the silent prison space.
"What do you mean?" Huang Da and his companions looked up with blank confusion, not understanding the seemingly random farewell.
But soon, understanding began to dawn. Huang Da's face changed drastically as he realized something was terribly wrong. He began frantically pinching his throat with his index finger, trying to induce vomiting. The other demons around him quickly realized what was happening and began doing the same thing, their movements growing increasingly desperate as they felt the poison beginning to work.
"It's useless," the food delivery demon said with a malicious grin that transformed his previously neutral features into something genuinely horrifying. "This is a deadly poison specially prepared for you. Once it enters your stomach, it will spread throughout your body within minutes."
His gaze then shifted to Russell, who remained huddled motionless in the corner of the cell. The lack of panic or frantic activity seemed to puzzle him.
"Strange? Is he dead already?" The delivery demon's voice carried genuine curiosity mixed with professional concern. Out of what might have been caution or simple thoroughness, he decided to enter the cell and observe the silent figure more closely.
However, when he approached Russell's seemingly unconscious form, he received a shock that would be his last. In the darkness of the prison cell, Russell's eyes were open and looking directly at him—calm, emotionless, and very much alive.
The demon felt a spike of anger at what he perceived as an attempt to frighten him. Who dares to try such childish tricks? He thought contemptuously, and moved to kick the apparently motionless prisoner.
But his right foot was suddenly caught and held in an iron grip. A massive hand—black and red, clearly not entirely human—had emerged from Russell's seemingly helpless form to grasp his ankle with crushing force.
"Ah—" The demon's panicked cry was cut short before it could properly begin as Russell's other hand clamped over his face, cutting off both sound and breath.
The struggle was brief and decisive. Russell's enhanced strength, combined with the element of complete surprise, made the outcome inevitable. After a few moments of muffled thrashing, the delivery demon went limp.
"Solved, Russell," Arrogance's voice echoed through their shared consciousness with satisfaction.
During the brief struggle, the symbiote had efficiently transferred the uneaten poisoned food directly into the stomach of the would-be assassin. A fitting end, Russell thought, for someone who'd tried to use such methods.
Seeing that the immediate threat was neutralized, Russell turned his attention to Huang Da and the others, who had collapsed to the dirty prison floor in obvious agony. They were clearly not far from death, the poison working its way through their systems with brutal efficiency.
Despite their suffering, they had witnessed everything Russell had done. Their eyes, wide with pain and disbelief, stared at him with the dawning realization that their assumptions about "Grak" had been completely wrong.
"Woo... woo..." Huang Da tried to speak through the paralysis creeping through his system, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and bitter regret. He never could have expected that there really was something fundamentally wrong with this patrol member he'd known for months.
Seeing that the dying demons had fallen silent, Russell felt a mixture of relief and professional regret. He'd actually grown somewhat fond of Huang Da's straightforward personality, despite the challenging circumstances of their relationship.
But sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford in his current position.
Russell dragged the unconscious assassin closer, preparing for the next phase of his infiltration. "I'm almost dead anyway," he thought pragmatically. "Arrogance, you can begin the process now."
Under the delivery demon's horrified gaze consciousness returning just in time to witness his fate black and red liquid began seeping into his body through every pore. The transformation process was thorough and irreversible. He could feel his muscles and bones shifting, rearranging themselves into new configurations. His very identity was being overwritten at the cellular level.
By the end of the process, his appearance was completely different, matching Russell's current needs exactly. Just like the previous transformation that had turned him into Grak, this change was flawless and complete.
"In order not to be exposed, I can only let you die for me," Russell whispered in a hoarse, low voice beside the man's ear. The consciousness of the former food delivery demon gradually sank into permanent darkness.
Gene module extracted: [Boar Rush].
[Boar Rush]: When you sprint at full speed, you will become faster and stronger, and your defense will be improved. However, in contrast, your flexibility will be greatly reduced during the rush.
"This module is pretty useful," Russell thought with satisfaction as he reviewed the new capability. Enhanced charging attacks could be valuable in the right circumstances, though the flexibility trade-off would require careful tactical consideration.
After releasing his connection to Arrogance's combat form, Russell quickly swapped clothes with the dead assassin. The clean, neat garments felt strange after wearing Grak's rough prison clothes, but they completed his new disguise perfectly.
Under Arrogance's influence, his appearance shifted once again to match that of the delivery demon another seamless transformation that left no trace of his previous identity.
He methodically collected the biological materials from the deceased demons: Iron-level [Half-Human Weasel] (Blue) x4, Bronze-level [Humanoid Weasel] (Blue), and Bronze-level [Humanoid Boar Spirit] (Blue). Each sample was carefully stored for future use in card creation.
After securing the materials, Russell couldn't help but mutter to himself, "After this is over, it's definitely time to create a storage-type card." Carrying multiple biological samples was becoming logistically challenging, and he needed better organizational tools for his collection activities.
Then he straightened his new clothes, arranged his features into the delivery demon's typically neutral expression, and allowed himself a moment of dark satisfaction.
"I didn't expect that I would become the protagonist of the horror stories I used to read in my previous life," he thought with grim amusement. The difference was that he was the protagonist from the horror side—the monster infiltrating human society rather than the hero fighting against supernatural threats.
After tidying up the evidence and arranging the scene to suggest the prisoners had all succumbed to the poison, Russell picked up the iron bucket from the ground and walked toward the dungeon exit with confident strides.
"Is the matter finished?" A cold voice spoke from beside him as he emerged from the prison complex.
Russell nodded without changing his expression, maintaining the delivery demon's typically businesslike demeanor as he studied the speaker. This new demon was dressed exactly as Russell was now apparently the assassination team worked in matching uniforms for easy identification.
"Then you stay outside and keep watch, Zeke," the unknown demon continued with the casual authority of someone giving routine orders. "I'll go in and verify the results."
After delivering these instructions, the demon turned and headed into the dungeon to personally confirm that their mission had been completed successfully.
Russell found himself facing a moment of decision. Should I just escape now? The temptation was significant he could disappear into the underground complex's tunnel system, find another identity to assume, continue his infiltration from a different angle.
Forget it, he decided after a moment's consideration. Let's see what this demon discovers. Changing identities wasn't easy, especially when it required killing specific individuals and assuming their exact roles. The "Zeke" identity had potential value, and he wasn't particularly worried about discovery.
After all, the cause of death for the food delivery demon had been consumption of the same poison used to kill the prisoners. His physical appearance was now identical to what Zeke had seen before entering the prison. As long as the bodies weren't subjected to detailed magical analysis—and why would they be, when the deaths appeared so straightforward?—no one would notice anything suspicious.
A few minutes later, the investigating demon emerged from the dungeon with a satisfied expression. His brief inspection had apparently confirmed that all the prisoners were dead, the mission completed according to plan.
"No problems," he reported with professional efficiency. "Everything went according to schedule. Let's go my Lord is still waiting for our report."
End of Chapter 124
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