Chapter 195 The Mind of a Psychopath and the Emotions He Never Expected to Feel

Andras sat beside Seraphina’s bed, his gaze resting on her sleeping face.

The temporary shelter was crowded. Injured students occupied nearly every available bed, while those with less serious wounds sat along the walls, waiting for treatment. Instructors and healers moved between them in quiet, efficient patterns, doing what they could to ease the suffering. Soft murmurs of pain mixed with the occasional clink of potion bottles. Somewhere near the far wall, a student coughed wetly before being hushed by a healer.

The air carried the mixed scents of blood, medicine, and burnt mana.

Seraphina was no longer in immediate danger. Vespera had finished treating her a short while ago. Divine Grace had repaired the worst of her injuries and purged the residual demonic energy from her body. Her breathing was steady now, and the color had gradually returned to her face. The deep exhaustion remained, however. Even in sleep, her brows were faintly drawn, as if the memory of the battle still lingered beneath the surface.

Still, she needed rest. She had exhausted nearly all her mana during the fight. Even with Vespera’s healing, recovering from such an expenditure would take time.

Andras watched her for a few more moments before leaning back slightly.

His expression remained composed, but his thoughts drifted toward something he had been trying to ignore.

The moment when Seraphina had nearly died.

He remembered the feeling clearly. It had been unfamiliar. Unpleasant, perhaps. Something had stirred inside him when he saw her lying helplessly before Draegor, moments away from death.

He had acted without hesitation.

At the time, he hadn’t stopped to question why. Now, with the immediate danger gone, he couldn’t help examining that reaction.

As Alex, he had understood emotions intellectually. He knew how people were supposed to feel and how to imitate those reactions when necessary. But understanding an emotion and experiencing it were two different things.

He had never possessed the empathy that came naturally to most people. Other people’s suffering had never troubled him. The thought of someone’s death had never carried any particular weight.

He had known what he was.

A psychopath.

Yet things had changed after he became Andras Darkmoor.

He had inherited the original Andras’s memories, experiences, and knowledge. They had blended with his own until the distinction between the two was no longer as clear as it once had been. He no longer thought of himself as Alex merely occupying another body.

He was Andras now.

And if those memories had influenced him, then the feelings he was beginning to experience might be another consequence of that transformation.

There was one thing he had deliberately avoided, however.

Whenever he used Devouring, he took the target’s talents and bloodlines. He never absorbed their memories. Memories contained more than information—they carried experiences, emotions, and perspectives shaped by an entirely different life. Allowing them into his mind meant risking pieces of another person becoming part of him.

He wanted their power.

Not their identities.

Even so, he could not deny that he was changing. Whether that change was good or bad remained uncertain.

Andras stared at Seraphina for another moment, then quietly exhaled.

*I’m thinking too much.*

There was no point reaching a conclusion without enough information. For now, he would simply observe.

He shifted his attention across the shelter.

The invasion had ended—or at least, the fighting in this part of the academy had subsided. Instructors were still moving through the grounds, dealing with remaining threats and searching for survivors. Distant shouts occasionally drifted in from outside, followed by the low rumble of collapsing stone.

But one question continued to bother him.

Why had the demons attacked now?

According to the original novel, the invasion was supposed to happen during the first examination. By that point, the original Andras had already died. This time, the attack had occurred much earlier.

The difference was too significant to dismiss as a minor deviation.

Andras folded his arms, considering the possibilities.

*Could it be because of Lucian?*

In the original story, Lucian’s identity as the Hero had not been revealed this early. In the current timeline, The demons might have discovered his identity sooner and decided to eliminate him before he could grow stronger.

It was a reasonable explanation.

There was another factor as well. The imperial meeting had drawn several influential figures away from the academy, leaving fewer powerful defenders than usual. The demons could have deliberately chosen this moment.

Perhaps they had known about the meeting.

Perhaps they had learned of Lucian.

Or perhaps both.

Andras narrowed his eyes slightly.

*Reasonable. But not necessarily correct.*

He lacked sufficient information. For now, it remained only a hypothesis.

A movement near the entrance caught his attention.

Two instructors entered the shelter, supporting a young woman between them. Her academy uniform was dusty, and one hand rested against her abdomen. Her steps were slow, and her face was pale with exhaustion. A faint smear of blood marked the fabric near her waist, though it did not appear fresh.

Andras recognized her immediately.

Aris Velloria.

The instructors guided her toward the beds.

"Please, take a seat," one of them said. "You should have your injuries examined."

"I’m fine," Aris replied softly. "It’s nothing serious."

Her voice was weak, but her expression remained composed.

Vespera, standing beside Seraphina’s bed, noticed the newcomers.

"Another injured student?" she asked.

One of the instructors nodded. "She was found near the western corridor. She has some injuries, but she was still able to walk."

Vespera turned toward Aris. "Come here. I’ll examine you."

Aris looked at the Saintess and gave a small, polite smile.

"Thank you, Lady Vespera, but there’s no need. My injuries aren’t serious."

*Absolutely not.*

Behind the gentle smile, Sephtis’s thoughts sharpened.

Of all the people in this shelter, the Saintess was the last person she could afford to let examine her.

Divine Grace was no ordinary healing spell. It could purge demonic corruption and interfere with the nature of demonic mana. Sephtis did not know how much Vespera could truly perceive through her talent, and she had no intention of testing it.

She had gone to considerable trouble to kill Aris Velloria and steal her appearance and memories. She would not throw that advantage away because of a careless decision.

Refusing treatment was the only sensible choice.

Of course, the refusal could not seem suspicious. A wounded student declining a healer’s offer to preserve mana for others was perfectly reasonable. It might even make her appear considerate.

Sephtis lowered her gaze slightly, maintaining the expression of a tired young woman. She reached into her uniform and produced a small healing potion.

"I can treat them with this. Please save your mana for the students who are in worse condition."

Her words were considerate, almost apologetic.

Vespera studied her for a moment.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I wouldn’t want to take up your time when there are others who need your help more."

Sephtis kept her expression steady.

*Don’t push too hard. Don’t appear afraid.*

She had to strike the right balance. Refusing too quickly might invite questions. Showing too much reluctance could make Vespera insist.

Fortunately, the Saintess seemed more concerned with the other injured students.

Vespera eventually nodded. "Very well. But if your condition worsens, come to me immediately."

"I will. Thank you."

Sephtis drank the potion and moved toward an empty space near the wall. She chose a spot that offered a clear view of most of the shelter while remaining partially shadowed by a support pillar. Only after settling down did she allow herself a brief moment to relax.

*That was close.*

She glanced around the shelter, careful not to let her gaze linger on anyone for too long. There were too many people here, and several of them were powerful enough to become a threat if they discovered her identity. For now, she only needed to remain unnoticed. Her task was observation, not confrontation.

Andras watched her without changing his expression.

Something about the situation bothered him.

It wasn’t her appearance. It wasn’t even her refusal of treatment. There was simply something he couldn’t quite place.

His gaze followed her as she settled down.

*Aris Velloria...*

He searched through his memories of the original novel.

There was a demon with an ability that allowed it to steal another person’s appearance and memories after killing them. The imitation was so complete that even people who knew the victim well might fail to notice anything wrong.

Andras’s eyes narrowed slightly.

In the original story, the person replaced by that demon had been Aris Velloria.

He had almost forgotten.

Now, watching her quiet, considerate behavior, the timing felt too convenient. She had appeared just as the fighting was ending. She had refused a thorough examination. She had smiled politely and chosen a seat where she could observe the rest of the shelter without drawing attention. Even the way she carried herself—slightly withdrawn, rarely meeting anyone’s eyes for more than a moment—seemed deliberate.

None of those details proved anything on their own.

But together, they were enough to make him cautious.

He needed confirmation.

Without shifting his outward expression, Andras spoke in his mind.

*System. Show me her status.*

[Ding!]

[Name: Sephtis]

[Race: Demon]

Andras’s gaze remained fixed on the young woman sitting against the wall.

For a moment, the shelter’s noise seemed to fade.

*I see.*