Kayden's mind began to connect scattered threads—fragments of old observations, subtle signs he hadn't understood before.
Ayrton smiled faintly. This time there was no mockery—only something close to sorrow.
"You can ask Adam about the history of the old battles… he's read about that era. But what he read was only half the truth. Too much was lost. History was scattered. We can't change anything now. As for me…"
He leaned forward slightly, as though about to reveal a dangerous secret, then whispered,
"I'll tell you something you won't find easily… how to kill a demon."
Kayden's eyes widened, his voice trembling with restrained eagerness. "Tell me…"
Ayrton nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"The simplest way… target the spiritual core. Destroy it or corrupt it, and everything ends. Without the core, a demon is nothing more than an empty body—a hollow shell."
Then he offered a brief smile, as if admitting the truth was always more complicated.
"But don't be fooled. It's not that easy. It's a demon. Its body is far stronger than ours—many times over. That's natural… and that's what makes them truly terrifying."
Ayrton lowered his voice again, his words echoing like whispers from the past.
"There are sacred weapons… soul-burning ones. Crafted by the Great Lady herself. But they're rare. Scarce. No one obtains them easily—formal requests, paperwork, approvals… such procedures are unbearably tedious. Worse still—we, followers of the Venerated Lord, will never receive any of them. Don't ask that Lady for anything."
He turned his head slightly, as though the very mention left bitterness in his throat.
"There are also rituals that reverse the original summoning. But they're dangerous. If the caster is weak, they may die. Or… the surrounding elements destabilize and turn into uncontrollable chaos."
Kayden listened with his entire being. Every word sank deep within him, though he couldn't stop his thoughts from racing.
Ayrton paused, then spoke slowly, his voice carrying a peculiar weight. "And there is one final method…"
Something in his tone made Kayden feel it before he understood it.
"Sacred fire. The kind that leaves nothing behind—devours body, soul, and core alike. But like the rest, it's nearly impossible. I feel poor every time I talk about it, despite not being poor at all. It's said the Great Lord himself created it—or rather, brought it from the heart of a volcano. That man… is truly a genius."
He fell silent for several long seconds, Kayden staring at him without blinking.
Then Ayrton turned to him directly and said in a calmer voice—yet one far heavier in impact,
"But personally… I prefer the old method. It rarely works… We live in an ignorant society."
Kayden's brows furrowed in confusion. In response, Ayrton smiled lightly—a smile that never reached his eyes.
"The name that must not be spoken."
Ayrton's voice shifted, becoming more like an obscure chant than an explanation.
"If you know a demon's true name… its complete, original name… you can control it. And if you are strong enough… you can even tear it apart from the inside."
He paused briefly, then added, "But I wouldn't recommend that."
Ayrton moved his hand lightly through the air, as though his fingers were weaving invisible threads.
"Demons are magnificent creatures—captivating. We should make proper use of them… in work, in knowledge… and even in killing."
Kayden's heart trembled for a moment, as if an arrow had struck his chest. ' The full name…? Colton. I know his name because of the contract—but is that truly his real name?'
Ayrton continued, his voice carrying a trace of hidden sorrow. "Demons are exceptionally intelligent. We know much about them, but… many years have passed. They have certainly evolved. They no longer possess a single name—rather, many names. Layers of names. And each layer… is a new doorway for deception."
He lifted his gaze toward the sky, his eyes searching for something beyond the clouds, then murmured thoughtfully, "I wish to see the world… without separation."
A brief silence followed, until Kayden broke it in a quiet voice, as though afraid to challenge the idea. "Wouldn't that bring corruption?"
Ayrton smiled slowly, then shrugged with cold indifference. "And what's wrong with that? Even within corruption… there is art. Beauty is not confined to purity alone."
He then turned to Kayden and spoke clearly,
"I am not a saint, nor do I claim to be a good man. In the end… I'm just someone searching for something different."
"The ritual isn't finished yet! Go down the stairs the same way you came up!"
Ayrton's voice cut through the air just before he leapt lightly over the edge, crossing to the opposite building as if it were nothing more than a casual step during an ordinary walk.
Kayden froze on the rooftop, staring at the distance separating the two buildings. Cold air slapped his face, and the void beneath his feet felt like a mocking call—one that reminded him of his weakness more than it frightened him.
"Don't even think about jumping!"
Ayrton's voice thundered from the other side.
Kayden let out a slow breath, then turned with heavy steps toward the stairwell. It wasn't exhaustion weighing him down—it was frustration. He hadn't wanted to jump anyway, not out of fear, but because he knew his body simply wouldn't do it. And that truth alone… bothered him more than it should have.
"I need to become stronger… not just to jump, but so I won't always be forced to take the longer way. Obviously, jumping is better," Kayden whispered to himself, the words sounding like a vow.
When he returned to the other building—the same floor, the same suffocating stench—he paused and stared at the silent walls around him. For a moment, he felt as though they were laughing at him, mocking his helplessness and every slow step he took.
"How long are these coincidences going to last?" he muttered irritably.
He continued walking until he reached the door he had been watching moments earlier.
But this time… it was broken.
Kayden lifted his handkerchief to his nose and stepped inside cautiously.
The smell of iron and ash still lingered in the air.
From within, a tense, breathless voice rose.
"A–a noble sir?"
The man was trembling, trying to hide his face with a shaking hand.
But Ayrton gave him no time.
He lunged forward with calculated agility, slammed the man to the ground, and pinned his arms with firm precision—as though he had rehearsed this scene thousands of times. Then he began examining the room carefully, searching for any trace that might reveal the nature of the ritual.
"Why, my lord?" Ayrton asked, his tone a blend of disbelief and disgust.
"Why waste your life summoning a catastrophe? I've never understood this… what sane person would agree to burn himself alive for that?"
The man's eyes quivered as he shouted defiantly,
"A catastrophe?! Clearly you understand nothing… I wasn't summoning a catastrophe at all!"
Kayden pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Do you hear yourself? You just admitted what you were doing. Didn't it occur to you to deny it? At least try."
Ayrton rose slowly, straightened his collar as though he had finished some trivial task, and looked at the man—then at Kayden.
"You're exactly like him… you confess too easily. Don't teach him."
Kayden waved a hand dismissively. "I didn't want more trouble, trust me. Besides, interrogations are annoying."
He then looked away, as if the entire matter wasn't worth the effort.
A brief silence followed before Ayrton broke it coldly. "Are you in the middle of the Formation Stage?"
He continued sharply, "How did you fail to notice the flaw in the ritual? That's unforgivable. Even a child… could tell the difference."
"I refuse to speak," the man muttered weakly, struggling to pull away.
Ayrton grabbed the man by the arm and dragged him forcefully toward the exit. But at the door across the hall, a woman stood pounding on it frantically, as though she were moments away from breaking it down.
The man froze, his eyes widening as he stared at her. He stammered in confusion,
"Are… are you here for the rent? I already paid it in advance!"
The woman turned toward him, her eyes blazing with anger.
"Ethan! My God, what did you do?!"
She pointed a trembling finger at him, her voice sharp with panic and fury.
He recoiled a step, completely flustered.
"I—I didn't do anything!"
Kayden looked at him with open disgust—his gaze alone felt like a slap.
But the woman ignored them both and returned to pounding on the door with even greater agitation.
"It won't open! Everyone says he's still inside! Is he avoiding me?!"
That was when Ayrton stepped forward calmly, a polite smile forming on his face.
"May I… open it for you?"
She nodded nervously. The moment she stepped aside, Ayrton lifted his leg and delivered a single kick. The door shattered on the first blow, the screech of splintering wood echoing down the hallway.
Kayden stiffened at the threshold, staring into the darkness beyond the broken door. He whispered a silent prayer, as though his heart already knew what awaited them inside.
The woman entered first. After only a few steps, her scream tore through the apartment.
"Ah—! He's… he's dead!"
Kayden rushed inside and dropped to his knees beside the body sprawled on the floor. His eyes froze as he stared at the lifeless features.
"My… God," the words slipped heavily from his lips, followed by a sorrowful sigh.
Kayden examined the corpse quickly, pressing his fingers to the neck, then leaning close to inspect the slack eyelids. He exhaled slowly and spoke with practiced speed.
"He's dead… natural causes, from the looks of it."
Ayrton crouched as well, studying the face and body with a sharp, analytical eye. Finding no sign of external interference, he straightened and spoke coolly,
"Kayden, you sound like a fraud. And now I seem to have two frauds. How delightful."
He spoke as he dragged Ethan outside by the arm, utterly indifferent.
"I'll have Fiona come with the police to examine the body."
Ethan muttered weakly as he struggled to breathe,
"This is the second death in the same building… you have to cover this up. People will start to panic!"
Ayrton didn't give him another second. He raised his fist and struck him once—Ethan collapsed unconscious.
"Be quiet for a while."
Kayden stared at him briefly, then said dryly, with a hint of sarcasm,
"He passed out…"
Before following them calmly to the carriage.
During the ride, Ayrton glanced at Kayden, who was scanning the surroundings. Ayrton explained without concern,
"Our destination is an old gathering point—spacious, suitable for interrogation. Not for kidnapping, of course. So stop looking around."
Kayden felt a fleeting sense of gratitude that he hadn't been treated the way Ethan was. Still, he couldn't stop himself from glancing around—until Ayrton's words made him desist, sinking back into silent contemplation.
When he emerged from his thoughts, the carriage had already stopped.
Kayden lifted his gaze and saw the old warehouse.
Its ceiling was high, the air cold and damp, the walls drowned in heavy shadows. As he stepped inside, it felt like a dark theater—waiting for its tragic performance to begin.
Ethan regained consciousness slowly, his head swaying. Ayrton gave him no time to recover, yanking him toward a metal chair in the center of the warehouse to begin the interrogation.
Kayden yawned as he watched the scene.
"Fiona isn't here… what a shame."
Ayrton replied coldly as he rolled up his sleeves,
"That's fine. I have a similar ability."
Kayden tilted his head slightly, intrigued.
"And how does it work?"