Instead of walking out through the front door like a normal person, Medeia slipped through the back window, landing silently on the cold ground.
Where was the thrill in a straightforward attack?
After days of exhausting base management and—of all things—babysitting, she needed something to wake her up. Something exciting. Something that would send a rush of adrenaline through her veins.
Crouched among the ruins, she murmured to the system, "Can I upgrade the Avalanche Boots with souls?"
[You can, Host. But why waste souls on boots instead of upgrading a weapon? You have an axe, a dagger, and even a crossbow collecting dust in your inventory.]
[You can also craft new weapons!]
Medeia rolled her eyes. "That’s boring. Now hurry up and do it because I don’t have all day."
Besides, she would devoured more souls later, so there was nothing wrong with using it now.
[Ding! Upgrading the Avalanche Boots from Grade-A to Grade-SSS+]
- Absolute Ice Mastery: Move effortlessly over any icy or snowy terrain without resistance, ignoring all environmental penalties (slippery surfaces, cold temperatures, deep snow, etc.).
- Frozen Stride (Cooldown: 3 minutes): Temporarily boosts the wearer’s movement speed by +150% for 15 minutes.
- Phantom Move: Allows the wearer to move across snow without leaving footprints or making a sound.]
Medeia grinned from ear to ear as she saw the upgraded effect. It was perfect—so perfect that she could barely wait to try it out.
"Activate the Demonic Strength," murmured Medeia.
[Skill Activation: Demonic Strength]
[Time-limited: 00:25:00]
After countless transformations into her demonic form, Medeia had finally grown numb to the splitting pain in her head.
As the military vehicles crept closer to the pub, she moved.
Silent as death. Swift as the wind.
Her upgraded Avalanche Boots made her nothing more than a ghost against the snow, leaving no trace, no sound, only chaos in her every movement.
With pinpoint accuracy, she slashed through the tires of the first vehicle.
A violent hiss erupted as air burst from the rubber, sending the car lurching to one side. Before the soldiers inside could register what was happening, she darted to the next, her abyssal sword carving through another tire with the same efficiency.
Shouts rang out. Confusion spread like wildfire.
Glass shattered as she drove the hilt of her sword through a windshield, sending shards of glass onto the seats. A soldier inside flinched and raised his rifle, but he was too slow because she was already gone.
Medeia counted the soldiers in her mind—twenty-eight in total. They were fully armed, clad in tactical gear, a few even carried grenades clipped to their vests.. However, things like that were of no concern to her.
Their faces were smeared with green and black camouflage paint, making it difficult to distinguish their features, but fear didn’t need a face.
She could feel it. Smell it.
Panic spread among the troops. "The hell is going on?!" one of them barked, his voice strained with barely contained panic. He spun wildly, rifle raised, eyes darting between the shadows.
"I—I don’t see anyone!" another stammered, his breath ragged. "Is it a ghost?!"
"Don’t be fucking stupid! And why the hell are you still afraid of ghosts?! There are far worse things in this world than ghosts!"
Medeia bit back a laugh as she darted between the vehicles, her movements too fast, too fluid for the naked eye. They couldn’t see her, but some of them caught glimpses of a shadow moving between them.
A soldier cursed under his breath, gripping his rifle so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Shit! Keep your eyes open! Whatever this thing is, it’s fast!"
Another reached for his radio, but before he could press the button, a flash of black steel sliced through the air. Medeia’s abyssal sword severed the device in two, sparks flying as the useless remnants dropped into the snow.
"What the—?!" He barely had time to react before a boot slammed into his chest, sending him crashing against the side of a car. The impact knocked him out, and he crumpled onto the frozen ground with a strangled gasp.
Medeia landed soundlessly beside him, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Calling for backup? That’s cute."
Others started to fire their weapons. The sound was so loud, yet desperate.
Medeia effortlessly dodged the bullets, weaving through the chaos like a shadow. She slipped behind one of the soldiers, leaning in close until her breath blew against his ear.
"Before you shoot," she whispered, "you should at least be able to see your target first."
She tilted her head forward slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye.
And when he did—when he finally saw her grinning at him—his blood ran cold.
"Do you like what you see?" Medeia smiled, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was soft, but laced with something dark—something primal. Like a predator toying with its prey. Like a demon crawling straight out of hell, ready to claim what was hers.
"D-Demon ..." he whispered, his hands trembling so violently that he dropped his firearm with a dull thud.
Medeia narrowed her eyes. Sure, she looked terrifying, but wasn’t a soldier supposed to maintain his composure? The Warstock soldiers had fought back even when she had looked far more monstrous.
Even the bandits hadn’t cowered immediately when she slaughtered them one by one.
So what the fuck was wrong with this guy?
’Let me see his information.’
[Check his status ...]
Dusk Mirror (Grade-B) — Effect: allows the user to create three shadow doppelgangers of himself that mimics his movements. These illusions can briefly hold physical form before vanishing.]
Medeia immediately took a step back, lowering her sword. He was only eighteen?
He hadn’t even fully grown out of his teenage years! What about the others?
Her gaze flickered as she quickly read through their information, and what she found made her stomach twist. The oldest among them was only twenty. The rest? Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen.
What kind of bastard turned sixteen-year-old kids into soldiers?
She had expected the military to send weak troops to hunt down the wounded deserters, but sixteen?
They weren’t even old enough to legally drink!
’Why didn’t you stop me?’ Medeia asked the system.
[They may be young, Host, but they can still be considered evildoers if they’re willing to capture the kind-hearted.]
Medeia was too stunned to respond.
Evildoers? Seriously? These kids were probably just brainwashed into believing the military’s lies.
She had fought a lot of rotten men. Men who deserved to have their heads removed from their shoulders.
The excitement in her heart vanished the moment she realized they were just a bunch of kids.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance because it looked like she wouldn’t be harvesting any human souls today.
With a flick of her wrist, her abyssal sword dissolved into nothingness. The soldiers flinched, bracing for another strike, but none came.
Yet, their fear lingered. Hands trembled around their weapons, chests rose and fell in panicked breaths, and—oh, for fuck’s sake—some of them were on the verge of tears.
They reminded her of Nico, who used to cry every time she gave him a task even slightly outside his comfort zone.
From the way they stood—stiff, uncertain, gripping their guns like lifelines—it was obvious they weren’t used to being out in the field.
Maybe they had spent most of their time cooped up in a military base, fed orders without ever facing the true horrors of this world. And considering it was winter, they probably hadn’t encountered many monsters on their journey here.
"D-Demon, we’re not afraid of you!" one of them blurted out, voice cracking mid-sentence.
Medeia stared at him, unimpressed.
"Not afraid?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Then why are you shaking?"
The soldier’s grip tightened around his rifle, knuckles turning white. "W-we’re trained soldiers!" he stammered, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it true. "We won’t back down just because of some ... some freak like you!"
Medeia let out a hum, stepping toward him. He instinctively took a step back.
"Trained soldiers?" she repeated, mockingly. "Tell me, soldier boy, how many battles have you actually fought?" She gestured toward his trembling hands. "How many times have you pulled that trigger? Killed a monster?"
High-grade monsters couldn’t even be killed with firearms!
That was enough to answer.
Medeia sighed, rubbing her temple. She had been expecting a challenge, but this was just sad. "You’re a bunch of kids playing war," she muttered. "I should’ve known."
The realization irritated her more than anything.
She had been looking forward to a good fight, something to shake off the stress of the past few days. But no, instead, she had been terrorizing a bunch of brainwashed teenagers who didn’t even know what real horror looked like.
"Hey, don’t talk to that demon again!" one of them shouted. "We can definitely kill her if we work together!"
"B-but she looks like a high-grade monster."
"Monsters can’t talk, you idiot!" He said, "She is a human!"
They started arguing over what Medeia actually was, giving her a headache.
She groaned and shouted across the snow, "Boys! Shut up!" Then she added, "Let’s settle this quickly, just turn around and stop bothering the soldiers here."
"But... you destroyed our tires."
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Just let her die.