Chapter 197: Lance Attends Another Re-education Session

Whenever the wind blew, the wooden-framed window would creak, and the fabric hanging over the small pane fluttered slightly. Occasionally, a few drops of rain would seep through the gaps.

In the center of this dim room, the Poet of Boundless Love spoke to Fenix in a playful, airy tone. "Fenix, your sister Phyllis is currently in the College of Alchemy's hospital."

The mere presence of this Great Demon beside him filled Fenix with overwhelming dread. She was capable of manipulating his emotions, amplifying any fear to an infinite degree.

Fenix naturally understood what the Poet was referring to. Phyllis must have accidentally caught sight of Lance, who had been dueling Adam on the screen, and, mistaking him for the headmaster of Purgatory Corridor Academy, suffered a shock so severe she lost consciousness.

In truth, their encounter with Lance's team on the first day of the semester at Ikerite University hadn't been a coincidence. On that day, Fenix had received word from the Church of Resurrection that he could intercept a target, prompting him to join the matchmaking queue.

Upon returning to the real world, to ensure his identity and mission remained foolproof, he had remained in a hypnotic state, completely forgetting everything related to the Church of Resurrection, until receiving the command to wake.

He had never had the chance to share that intelligence with his younger sister.

"Do whatever you want with her," Fenix said with cold, unwavering decisiveness, as if he didn’t care whether she lived or died.

"Heh heh." The Poet sat on the table and beckoned with her finger.

Lance understood her intent. Without a word, he retrieved a stack of translucent cards from his soul space, each shimmering with a different hue, and offered them for her selection. However, he had no idea which enchanted card she would choose.

After browsing for a moment, the Poet selected the Polymorph: Demon card and applied it to Lance. He instantly reverted to the form of the Radiant Demon he had adopted at Purgatory Corridor Academy.

The Poet then tapped the desk in front of Hyperion, signaling her to drop her disguise and return to her true half-demon form. In the blink of an eye, the storeroom took on the appearance of a Demon Kingdom territory.

So, which one of us is actually the other's summoned creature? Lance put away his enchanted cards, feeling rather speechless.

He even felt that the Poet was truly a perfect being. As long as he, her host, remained alive, she was effectively immortal. Even when defeated, she could simply be summoned again once the cooldown period had passed.

"Heh, if I were a card maker and could get my hands on your soul material, I'd definitely turn you into a poet of some sort and make you my signature card."

The Poet turned back and gave a smug little harrumph. Her talent for card making far surpassed Lance's, yet she was unfortunately capped at Tier 1, relegated to serving merely as his assistant.

She then turned her attention back toward Fenix.

She playfully said, "Imagine this scenario, Fenix. Suppose I take Lance to the hospital to visit your sister. She's just woken up from a nightmare that had terrified her into fainting on the spot. She's feeling a bit more at ease, thinking she's back in reality. And then, on this dark, stormy day filled with rolling thunder, she sees me, a living demon, boldly walking into her hospital room without a care in the world. And right after me, the Radiant Demon headmaster walks in. How do you think she'd react?"

The Poet grinned gleefully as she painted this picture for Fenix. "She'd snap, wouldn't she? She absolutely would, right?"

Her eager expression suggested she was already itching to try it out.

Watching Fenix's expression spiral out of control, with veins bulging visibly on his face, the Poet pointed at him and burst into raucous laughter.

"Didn't you say you didn't care about your sister at all? Didn't you say: 'do whatever you want with her'? So why do you look so restless now?" The Poet mocked him, deliberately mimicking Fenix's earlier tone.

With his emotions heightened, Fenix's true feelings were all too transparent. His earlier indifference had been nothing but a charade. At the slightest sign, the Poet could easily spot the cracks in a prisoner's psychological defenses.

On the verge of a breakdown, Fenix roared, "No! You can't touch my sister! She isn't a member of the Church of Resurrection. None of this has anything to do with her!"

These demons might not lay a finger on his sister physically, but they could utterly destroy her in every other sense!

"I suppose you're thinking that 'decent folks' like us couldn't possibly threaten you using your family, and that if we confirm your sister is innocent, we won't do anything to her..." The Poet spread her hands and raised her eyebrows meaningfully as she slowly continued, "But take a good look now. Are any of us even human?"

With a wide and brilliant smile, the Poet stepped aside.

Behind her sat two demons. They looked utterly indifferent, as if the matter had nothing to do with them. It was a brand of evil and cold-bloodedness possessed only by the demon race.

For a fleeting moment, a terrifying thought crossed Fenix's mind. It felt as though this place was no longer Ikerite. Instead, it was a stronghold of the demon race. It even made him suspect that this country had already been eroded and infiltrated by the demons...

"How about this? We could have the Student Management Council organize a campus-wide event. It will be a carnival where everyone dresses up as demons. When your sister wakes up and leaves the hospital, she'll find the entire campus filled with demons, with everyone acting like madmen. Just picture it! How does that sound? We could also make a real-life demon game. We let her run first, and just when she thinks she's escaped the nightmare, poof! Out comes Headmaster Lance the Radiant Demon..."

The Poet continued tirelessly, painting this wonderful picture for Fenix like a film director.

Time wore on...

Finally, Fenix moaned, "No... stop talking."

Under the Poet’s "verbal therapy," his mental defenses had inevitably crumbled. He trembled, tears streaming down his face. He blubbered, "I'll agree to whatever you say... just don't hurt Phyllis..."

At a nearby table, Hyperion turned to look at Lance without saying a word.

Lance was still sipping his tea, listening intently to the Poet's interrogation process. He wore a gratified expression. For some reason, he somehow resembled a school administrator sitting at the back of the classroom, observing a moral education teacher's demonstration lesson.

Lance noticed Hyperion staring at him, so he turned to look at her and smiled as he genially said, "We've just saved another wayward youth. That's another heap of merit earned."

Hyperion had no response to that. In fact, she didn't want to spend another second in the room with these two "real" demons. She just wanted to find Miss Tali and cleanse her mind a bit.

If Lance was a "pseudo-human," then the Poet was a genuine piece of scum. In fact, the Poet didn't even bother to put on an act.

However, there was a notable difference between the two. At least the Poet was aware of her own twisted tastes and clearly recognized that she had no claim to humanity. Lance, on the other hand, didn't think there was anything wrong with himself at all.[1]

Hyperion could no longer tell who in the room was the "good guy" and who was the "cultist." She dared not imagine what Dean Lawrence would think of them, or what sort of cruel torture he would suspect they had inflicted upon this elite cultist when they handed over a thoroughly reformed and transformed Fenix tomorrow.

1. What can I say, if there was a contest of delulu, Lance would be crowned king. ☜