Ch.141141 – Ominous Premonition

<141 – Ominous Premonition>

Powerful NPCs exude intimidation by their mere presence.

This is especially true for the appearance of Hero Ishtar, considered one of the strongest NPCs of the 981st class.

My hair stands on end and the back of my hand tingles.

My skin feels hot where her gaze lands, as if singed by fire, and a fighting spirit burns deep in my chest, making me want to challenge her.

But I know better.

I know it’s impossible to fight a hero with starting specs.

Even though my strength is decent enough to compete in the advanced class, I can’t compare to playable characters with their inflated stats in other abilities.

So I turned around with a smile.

“Hero unnie. What brings you here?”

I tried to lower her guard with a friendly greeting, but Ishtar’s expression hardened.

“As expected… You’ve undergone enough killing intent resistance training to not even flinch at this level of intimidation. An assassin can’t freeze up in real combat, after all.”

“Hmm… I’ve adapted for similar reasons, I guess!”

This isn’t easy.

Instead of lowering her guard, she’s becoming more suspicious.

Why is she acting like this?

I haven’t built any bad history with Ishtar.

Last time, she even invited me to join her team.

Could she be holding a grudge because I rejected her offer?!

It’s possible.

NPC personalities aren’t always the same.

In some playthroughs, a character might be kind because their family is successful, while in others, they might be bitter and aggressive because their family went bankrupt.

“Oknodie. I’d appreciate if you answered my questions honestly from now on. It won’t be bad for you either.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t you want to break free from the Foundation?”

“Huh?”

“The Wiheomhae Foundation. The education they’ve given you clearly crosses the line of common sense.”

Ishtar listed the rumors she’d heard.

“I’ve heard the Foundation poisons children who don’t follow their harsh training, and sells those who refuse to suffer to brothels or labor camps.”

“Gasp. Really?”

“Don’t act like it’s someone else’s problem. The same applies to you, Oknodie. From a young age, you’ve undergone various environmental adaptation training, resistance training, and all sorts of assassination training including acrobatics.”

That was too rude to say to someone’s face out of nowhere.

What does she take me for?

“That’s not true! Don’t badmouth Papa’s foundation like that. I’ve never received such harsh training!”

“…You’re lying. With so many bad rumors circulating, they can’t all be false.”

“I became strong because of training I did willingly because I enjoyed it. Why would I do something I don’t like?”

The hero’s face turned pale. Her hand on her scabbard trembled. This wretched person, is she angry because I won’t speak ill of the Foundation?!

Seems like this cycle’s hero has a broken personality.

Is this hero really threatening to cut me down if I don’t badmouth Papa’s organization to his own daughter?

Hmph.

If she thinks I’ll back down just because she’s being aggressive, she’s mistaken.

I’m strong against the strong, strong against the weak.

That’s my personality.

“If you speak ill of the Foundation and Papa, I won’t let it slide even if you’re a hero.”

“Sigh. Are you serious? You’re standing before the current generation’s strongest talent, a serving hero.”

“A wicked hero who demands filial impiety doesn’t deserve to call herself a hero!”

I see.

Ishtar let out a dejected sigh.

Seems like she’s not looking for a fight right now.

Phew.

As I was catching my breath, the hero turned around and said:

“If that’s how you feel, I can’t help it. I meant well, but if I’ve offended you, I apologize.”

All she did was demand I commit filial impiety.

And she calls this goodwill?

This cycle’s Ishtar is definitely a psychopath!

“Hmph. Just go already. You’re interrupting my training.”

“Is that child training voluntarily?”

Morb spoke in a dying voice.

“Please… no more… save me…”

“…Oknodie. I’m sorry, but I’d like you to release that child. As a hero, I can’t ignore someone asking for help right in front of me.”

“Seriously? He asked for help first.”

Grumbling, I released Morb, and only then did the hero leave.

What a terrible person.

If Morb fails, it’ll be all your fault!

* * *

Ishtar couldn’t help feeling devastated.

The One True God <Sophemia of the Sun> who had chosen her as a hero.

The holy sword bestowed upon the hero by Sophemia possessed <The Power to Discern All Falsehoods>.

“As expected… You’ve undergone enough killing intent resistance training to not even flinch at this level of intimidation. An assassin can’t freeze up in real combat, after all.”

“Hmm… I’ve adapted for similar reasons, I guess!”

The lie detection didn’t activate.

“That’s not true! Don’t badmouth Papa’s foundation like that. I’ve never received such harsh training!”

It was the truth.

“I became strong because of training I did willingly because I enjoyed it. Why would I do something I don’t like?”

She genuinely enjoyed receiving harsh training.

‘She started training at too young an age.’

Before she could even develop likes and dislikes.

To accept cruel training as joy.

The Foundation had modified the child’s mind from deep within to have preferences that were unchildlike.

It was too late.

Though she appeared innocent and lovable on the surface, inside was a broken mind that viewed harsh training as play and enjoyed it.

Murder.

Assassination.

It was clear those would be no different.

“If you speak ill of the Foundation and Papa, I won’t let it slide even if you’re a hero.”

Truth.

“A wicked hero who demands filial impiety doesn’t deserve to call herself a hero!”

Truth.

She neither admires nor fears the hero.

She considers turning against her as natural.

As if someday she’s destined to become the hero’s enemy.

A future that even grown adults fear.

While the heads of large organizations fear being branded as evil by the hero, this small child showed no fear at all.

Because she was never taught to fear.

Because she was educated not to be afraid.

This child had been raised beyond a mere assassin, educated to be the next Demon Lord candidate.

“Seriously? He asked for help first.”

Making someone carry over 50kg of weight.

Forcing a classmate to jump through a burning ring.

Compelling them to juggle five sharp daggers while balancing on a rope.

She doesn’t even think these things are wrong.

Because she went through it herself.

Because to her, it’s simply training and play.

So the boundary between good and evil is blurred for her.

‘I understand now. I must kill her while she’s still relatively weak.’

But such a young, innocent child?

The blurred boundary between good and evil means that while she could easily fall into evil, she could also return to good at any time.

There might be another way.

Without killing her.

Without harming her.

Without making her an enemy.

Some way to guide this child to the path of good.

‘I need Yufi’s help.’

Her longtime friend and first companion, Yufi.

She needed the saint’s understanding and compassion.

Ishtar turned away.

And made a promise.

Though she was backing down now, next time would be different.

Someday she would make that poor child understand that what she experienced wasn’t play or training but abuse, that her Papa wasn’t a good person, and that the Foundation was an evil organization.

* * *

“Feeling better? Now that the special training is over?”

“Sorry, Oknodie… My stamina just isn’t enough to handle any more.”

“What a weakling, really. What did you eat growing up to be so unhealthy at this age?”

“Black bread and hodgepodge soup?”

“Sheesh. As expected of an extra, your collection rate status is truly legendary.”

I did what I could.

Though I couldn’t complete all the special training Oknodie assigned, I could feel my sword trajectory becoming more even and the tip no longer wavering.

My body moved as I thought it should, and the good feeling I used to get only two or three times out of a hundred sword swings now came once every ten swings.

Considering we only did weight adaptation training and acrobatic stunts instead of sword practice, I couldn’t understand why I’d gotten stronger, which made it seem even more impressive.

‘No wonder she’s the joint top student in first year.’

After finishing the special training, I returned to the dormitory, slept like the dead, and when I woke up.

With my strangely faster recovery speed and improved condition, I even felt healthier.

The mana verification test.

The crucial exam with failure at stake was approaching fast.

“Morb. How’s your preparation? I heard you went through some rough training.”

“Just right. My body and mind are in peak condition.”

Frankly speaking, I was confident that whatever test came would be easier than jumping through a burning ring with 50kg of weights attached or juggling five razor-sharp daggers while balancing on a rope.

“Zaku. How about you?”

My old friend wore a somewhat detached smile.

“I’m ready too.”

“Was the mentoring helpful?”

“Yes, it was helpful. If only I’d received it a week earlier…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

His expression doesn’t look good.

Something feels off.

Did Zaku have trouble sleeping?

I wanted to have a conversation to help him relax and see if something was bothering him, but the timing wasn’t right.

The sound of many footsteps approaching from outside.

The distinctive sound announcing the arrival of Professor Van Snake with his unusually large entourage of assistants made me miss the chance to address my unease.

“Zaku!”

Raising my fist to cheer him on was the best I could do.

Zaku also raised his fist in return to encourage me.

The classroom door slid open, and finally the professor appeared.

Now the test was unavoidable.

“It’s time to prove whether the past four weeks have been meaningful or a waste of time. Everyone, do your best.”

The lower class 4th week common mandatory course exam, the mana verification test, had begun.