The mage stood near the dorm entrance, frantically moving his staff and as fiery nets burst toward Silas in rapid succession.

The Shadowheart walked through them with ease; its expression never changed. In return, the daggers became a storm. By the time the mage understood he couldn’t escape, it was already too late. Five silver flashes crossed the room, and the mage’s body jerked violently, then collapsed.

Silence descended, broken only by the crackling of flames. Dead bodies littered the floor, blood stained the walls, and smoke drifted through the ruined dorm. Yet the Shadowheart remained standing amidst the carnage; its breathing was steady, its crimson eyes gleamed.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, Silas understood a terrifying truth. The Shadowheart wasn’t stronger because it possessed greater power; it was stronger because it wielded everything Silas had with absolute efficiency.

It had no hesitation, showed no mercy, felt no fear, and only had the desire to kill. It wasn’t human in any way.

Then the Shadowheart gaze shifted, as not everyone was dead.

Near the bathroom entrance, the Enhancer who had been stabbed through the torso earlier remained alive, barely. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he pressed trembling hands against the gruesome wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

A little farther away, the iron club hunter struggled to crawl across the floor, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Silas immediately thought: ’Question them.’

He still didn’t know why this had happened. Who would organise a team of Enhancers to eliminate him on his very first day at the academy?

For once, the Shadowheart seemed to share his thoughts, as it walked toward the nearer survivor. The young man flinched violently as crimson eyes settled upon him. The Shadowheart seized him by the hair and forced his head upward. The wounded Enhancer cried out in pain.

"Tell me who sent you," the Shadowheart said softly, its voice barely sounding human.

"I won’t kill you."

The young man’s face twisted in terror and hatred.

"F-F*** you!"

Silence followed. Then the Shadowheart tilted its head slightly, as though puzzled by the response.

"I see."

Three daggers flashed, and the man’s words died alongside him. Silas stared in disbelief.

’That’s it?’

He expected torture, then gave the dying Enhancer a second chance. But the Shadowheart had simply moved on, felt like someone crossing an item off a list. Then it turned toward the final survivor. And the remaining Enhancer froze.

He had witnessed everything. He had watched six people enter this dorm with absolute confidence, and he had watched them die one after another, leaving him as the last one surviving with half a leg away from the grave. He had seen a boy wrapped in nothing but a towel carve through trained Enhancers while cruelly smiling.

The Shadowheart didn’t approach immediately. Instead, it bent down and calmly gathered Silas’s discarded clothes, one piece at a time. As if it had all the time in the world, it dressed itself in complete silence. He put on a shirt, then wore pants, and finally, he carefully and slowly put the belt on.

Then came the daggers. Each blade returned to its rightful place with meticulous care. The longer the Shadowheart took its time, the more the last Enhancer trembled.

The anticipation was worse than the violence. By the time those crimson eyes settled upon him once more, the young man had already broken.

"I’ll talk!" he blurted out.

"I’ll tell you everything!"

The Shadowheart stopped, yet its expression remained unreadable.

"A G-Enhancer..." the wounded man stammered. "A G-Enhancer approached us... He gave us the mission."

His breathing quickened.

"He said... he said you were dangerous. He said that your potential was quite unpredictable. He said... he said as an Ashborne, you are very dangerous."

Silas’ thoughts froze for a brief moment.

’A G-Enhancer?’

’It must be someone from the academy.’

’But... Who?’

Before he could process the implications, the survivor continued desperately.

"That’s all I know! We were only hired to kill you! I swear it!"

His eyes pleaded for mercy.

"You promised to let me live..."

"Please... please let me go..."

"I have a sister..." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

"I didn’t even want to come..."

"Please... I don’t want to die."

The Shadowheart regarded him quietly, then it smiled. It wasn’t a cruel smile; it wasn’t sadistic. If anything, it looked strangely apologetic.

"Sorry," it said. "I lied."

Five daggers crossed the distance between them, and the young man’s eyes widened. His mouth opened soundlessly, then his body collapsed.

And silence returned to the burning dorm.

Silas felt cold. It wasn’t because of the blood, not because of the corpses, but because he finally understood. The Shadowheart hadn’t betrayed its promise out of malice.

To it, promises simply held no value; human morals meant nothing. To it, mercy meant nothing, human lives meant nothing. To it, only one desire mattered.

The Shadowheart slowly turned, its crimson gaze sweeping across the ruined dorm. Then it spread its arms wide, as though embracing the horrific scene before it. And its lips curved upward.

"What a pleasant first meal," it whispered.

"Hehehe..."

The laughter echoed softly through the room.

Then, it vanished. The oppressive presence disappeared without warning, in the same way it initially appeared. Control returned to Silas all at once. While pain exploded throughout his body. His muscles screamed, exhaustion crashed into him like a tidal wave, and his legs buckled.

He nearly collapsed where he stood. At the same time, a torrent of emotions surged through him with overwhelming force: fear, disgust, relief, and confusion.

Silas remembered everything, every movement, every scream, and every life extinguished by his own hands. Even if they had come to kill him... Even if he had been powerless to stop it... The memories remained his.

Silas lowered his trembling gaze toward his bloodstained fingers.

"...You bastard."

His voice cracked. He didn’t know whether he was cursing the Shadowheart or himself. Yet the image of those scarlet eyes lingered within his mind, looking amused, patient, hungry, as though waiting for the next opportunity to emerge.

"Screw you," Silas whispered.

He forced himself to smile, as the corners of his lips twitched upward. Then he froze. Because for a fleeting moment, he couldn’t tell whether the smile belonged to him.

Then his vision blurred. The last of his strength abandoned him.

As darkness claimed his consciousness, only one thought remained. The monsters he fought all looked terrifying, but none of them had ever terrified him as much as the monster sleeping inside his own heart.