Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Ghost in the Machine

Azrael knew the principal was staring way too much.

The gaze of Boros practically burned a hole into the back of his uniform during the morning lecture.

But the Demon King did not care.

Why would an apex predator ever worry about the suspicious glare of a dying leaf?

The old man might possess some rare sensory trick to see the cores sitting inside this chest, but seeing the Abyss from a distance and actually surviving its depths were two very different things.

Instead of worrying about the principal’s silent judgment, Azrael let his eyes wander across the quiet classroom.

He watched the other freshmen scribbling frantic notes on parchment, hanging onto every boring word the teacher spoke about basic elemental theory and historical battles.

’What a tragic waste of a lifespan,’ Azrael mused.

"Do they just sit in these desks all the time?" he asked softly, keeping his voice low enough that only the girl sitting directly beside him could hear.

"No, my lord," Melissa replied, leaning closer to whisper.

"They also train outside in the physical yards. They practice their futile sword moves and basic spells again and again until they think they have perfected them."

"All that wasted sweat just to land a small, shallow scratch on their enemies?" Azrael scoffed quietly, amusement settling in his chest.

"Pathetic. They swing dull sticks and call it power. True authority is not something you learn from a chalkboard or earn through tedious repetition. It is something you are simply born to wield, or born to suffer under. Teaching sheep how to bite does not turn them into wolves."

The boring lecture finally dragged to a close.

Azrael welcomed the loud bell ringing across the campus, standing up and following the crowd of noisy teenagers.

They all moved down to Instructor Grace’s physical practice class.

Today’s session was focused entirely on close-quarters sparring.

The students had to pair up and duel with each other on the padded green mats.

Standing by the weapon racks, Zephyr gripped a wooden practice sword tightly.

He kept glaring across the room, clearly wanting to duel it out with the boy who had humiliated him at breakfast.

Zephyr knew his former rival was strong, but the terrifying lack of emotion and the suffocating aura he showed in the cafeteria earlier were just too much to ignore.

He needed to test the waters in a sanctioned fight.

As Zephyr stepped forward to issue a formal challenge, someone else beat him to it.

"Shane," a confident voice called out.

A handsome, blonde-haired youth stopped right in front of Azrael, resting a wooden blade casually over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Azrael tilted his head, studying the arrogant boy with dull interest.

"Let’s duel today," Lucien challenged, a competitive grin spreading across his face.

Azrael did not bother to reply with words.

He just turned his back and walked toward an empty square of padded mats near the centre of the room.

Lucien followed close behind, eager to prove his superior speed against the top scorer of the freshman trial.

Multiple duels were already happening at the moment, the loud clack of hitting wood echoing off the high ceiling.

Instructor Grace walked between the fighting pairs, barking out strict orders and guiding their physical forms.

"Keep your balance properly on your back foot," Grace shouted at a struggling noble.

"Do not just try to overpower your opponent," she corrected another student nearby.

"Think strategically. Watch their shoulders, not their eyes."

Melissa stood at the very edge of Azrael’s mat.

She leaned in and whispered a few necessary instructions right into his ear.

"They only fight using raw physical stats in this class, my king," she explained quickly.

"No active mana spells or aura enforcement should be used during the spar. If you use magic, the instructor will penalise you."

Azrael found the rule highly amusing.

The fragile boy whose body he stole had already maxed out all his physical attributes through whatever strange system the gods provided.

A strength and agility stat of ninety-nine meant this mortal vessel was basically a walking siege weapon, even without a single drop of mana flowing through the muscles.

So, Azrael just grabbed a sword from the rack.

He raised it lazily in one hand, leaving his stance wide open and full of fatal flaws and glanced at Lucien, waiting for the child to make the first mistake.

Lucien did not hesitate.

Relying on his famous natural agility, the blonde boy simply disappeared from his starting spot.

Even without using any magic to boost his momentum, Lucien was fast enough to easily bypass a normal enemy’s defensive walls.

His boots barely made a sound on the mats.

He appeared directly to the right side of Azrael, swinging his blade hard in a wide arc aimed right at the ribs.

Azrael did not bother to dodge.

He did not even bother to block with his own weapon.

He simply raised his free left hand, his fingers moved with terrifying precision, catching the incoming wooden sword right in the middle of its fast swing and pinched it tightly between his thumb and index finger.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, the practice sword snapped in half with a loud crack.

"Huh?" Lucien gasped, his momentum ruined.

The boy stumbled backwards to his starting place, staring down at the useless hilt left in his shaking hand.

He was in disbelief at what had just happened.

Catching a fast strike barehanded was one thing, but breaking reinforced training gear with two fingers was physically impossible for a normal freshman.

Even Instructor Grace paused her pacing.

Her scarred face registered genuine shock as she watched the brief exchange.

"Student Shane," Grace called out, nodding her head slowly. "That was very impressive grip strength."

Lucien gritted his teeth, refusing to be humiliated so easily in front of the class again.

He tossed the broken hilt aside and quickly picked up a fresh practice sword from the nearest rack.

This time, the arrogant grin was gone.

His breathing turned deep and steady.

He lowered his centre of gravity, preparing to use a real martial arts technique rather than just relying on raw speed.

Lucien pushed off the ground.

He moved in a complex, twelve-step pattern. It was a preset sequence of footwork designed to create afterimages and confuse the enemy’s depth perception.

He darted left, right, and forward in a dizzying dance.

To a human eye, the technique looked flawless. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

But to a demon king who had slaughtered millions across centuries of war, the footwork looked like a clumsy toddler stumbling over loose rocks.

Azrael saw every single wasted movement and predicted the exact angle of the final strike long before Lucien even decided to swing.

He raised his own sword, pointing the tip casually toward an empty patch of air right beside his left shoulder. He already knew Lucien would appear in that exact spot to deliver the final blow.

He prepared to end the duel in a single, painful counterattack.

But his arm did not move.

A freezing sensation gripped his chest, originating from the tiny, hidden corner of the bifurcated core.

[System Alert]

[Indefinite Mana Flow Detected in Secondary Core]

[Physical Movements Halted via Soul-Stitcher Protocol]

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