"Do you carry the name of Moros Terra?"
The question was asked in a commanding tone. No room for refusal, no room for dodging, no room to wiggle himself out of it. All he could do was answer.
"Yes."
Aunt Carol shook her head. Disappointment visible on her face.
"Target is not a Fae, Djinn, or a low-ranking demon. Higher ranking ones are to not seen as feasible given the lacking quality of the vessel."
After quietly adding a few crosses amongst the checklist she was working on, she sighed yet again and audibly added.
"Would have been too great to get rid of two pests at the same time…"
Moros had always known that he and his aunt were not the bestest of buddies, but given the line of questioning so far…he really should not lie about anything. Otherwise his head would really be flying off of his body.
"Did you resign your position as the family heir, after realising your utter lack of worth to it?"
Her voice carried utter disdain, the entire situation creating a visible disgust in her face. Simply being in Moros' presence caused her to visibly consider separating the head of his body.
Seeing him was a most unpleasant sensation to her, her face looked like she had just taken a step into dog poo, in her favourite new shoes.
Instead of murdering the useless tumour of her family, she simply ticked off a few more boxes.
"Target suffers from severe delusions. Additionally, it does appear to be highly mentally defective and challenged."
"As such mental manipulation, not limited to memory altering, hypnotism, charm-magic, mind control, possession, mind-wiping, thought-projection, compulsion, mind fragmentation, illusions and confusion prove to be highly ineffective. Their usage in this case is therefore highly unlikely."
Moros had the funny feeling that he had just been called very, very stupid. He could not quite tell, however, because his dear aunt used too many big words that he did not know.
Sleeping in school did not exactly help him either. Facing the "stone" massage also did not improve his odds of appearing any smarter.
"Yes," Moros stammered out, leaving his aunt more than confused.
She had not even asked him a question, what did he reply yes to? Had he lost too much blood or had he always been like this?
Trying not to let her confusion show on the outside, she simply chose to cross out a few more boxes that could not explain the current situation. But, none of the options listed here could sufficiently explain the details surrounding this case.
Her eyes darted around the scene of the crime, once again confirming a reality that seemed to elude her understanding.
Once again she started from the ground up.
At 1 PM Moros Terra had been declared missing by a fellow student. Malissa Maven, had contacted the local authorities that her best friend did neither react to calls nor any summons from the school.
After checking up on his only known address, the residence of the Terra family dungeon, first responders could not approach, established personnel complained about nausea, dread, shortness of breath and a general fear for their lives.
One cited even: the mana felt so heavy, it appeared to have collapsed.
Afterwards, under the request of command, the UM was given clearance. The special personnel was brought to the scene, and the family head of the Terra family was asked to stand by.
Initial observations of the scene noted a trail of blood ranging from the deepest part of the unconquerable Terra dungeon to the traditional healing pot station.
A distance of over 500 metres.
In the aforementioned healing pot station, Moros Terra was found sleeping. His body showed signs of grievous harm. Scar tissue indicates the loss of both feet and an impalement of the mouth.
Despite intensive search neither the missing feet nor the sharp object could be localised.
Additionally, the mana density of the surroundings indicated a density of 100.000 parts per metre, likening it to the aftereffect of a class-9 magic spell, enough firepower to level a city.
Yet, no magical signatures or fragmentations could be found.
It was a crime with a victim that should have died. To be killed by magic that would have killed thousands of people. Everything indicated that both should have happened, but the only results show that they did not.
Aunt Carol could not make sense out of anything.
And the person she had to question was not of much help either in solving this big riddle.
She simply needed to follow procedure and squeeze out as many details about the monster, who did this as soon as possible.
Yet, as the questions bombarded Moros only frustrations rose in her.
"He was not a doppelgänger, not an undead, not a vampire, not a werewolf, not a basilisk, not a chimaera, not a banshee, not a gorgon, not a wendigo, not a manticore, not a minotaur, not a harpy, not a kelpie, not a hydra, not a kraken, not a leviathan, not a lich, not a naga, not an oni, not a phoenix, not a rakshasa, not a selkie, not a wraith, not a chimaera, not a siren, not a sphinx, not a troll, not a wyvern, not a yeti, not a ghoul, not a griffin, not a hellhound, not a jiangshi, not a kappa, not a lamia, not a mare, not a nekomata, not an ogre, not a poltergeist, not a revenant, not a shade, not a sylph, not a valkyrie, not a zombie, not a dryad, not a cyclops, not a centaur, not a satyr, not a selkie, not a barghest, not a dybbuk, not an imp, not a jinn, not a kobold, not a mokele-mbembe, not a nymph, not a penanggalan, not a striga, not a tarasque, not a tengu, not a wight."
At some point, she had given up on using logic and was just throwing monster names at him.
None of that would help her in any way, but it allowed her to press Moros' body into the ground floor for a little while longer.
It was not much, but it was honest work.
For good measure, she tested electroshocks to confirm he was not a shapeshifter, burns to ensure that it was not a parasyte, absolute cold to make sure it was not a cacoch.
Nasty little buggers that burrow into the target's brain and control their fine motor control. Yet, disappointing it was to see the test outcome be negative yet again.
Regardless of what she did and tried, there seemed to not be any foul play involved. Given the circumstances, such a thing was the most statement one could make.
Because that would imply a force to be at play here, one that even the most advanced mages of the UM were not aware of. The implications of that conclusion were however far more scary than just the sight of a bloodbath on the grounds of the Terra family.
Aunt Carol looked at Moros and heaved yet another big sigh. This child truly just meant more trouble than it was worth.
Retracting her field of gravity, to alleviate the pressure she turned around to see Jonathan Terra, the head of the Terra family approach.
Unbeknownst to her, Moros took this short diversion of her attention and rammed his head into the ground a few times, till he had busted himself open yet again.
"My lord," Aunt Carol cupped her hands, as she greeted Moros' father.
Wordlessly Moros too had stood up. His legs shook, blood streamed down his face. He too cupped his hands, greeting the Patriarch, yet he dared not speak in his presence.
He was confused, why did he not feel his mana?
To his father's side, Moros saw an insignia of two flowers intertwining one blooming, one wilting.
A deep, knowing smile formed on his face, which he chose to hide by looking at the floor.
A terrible idea entered his brain suffering from blood loss.
The head of the family nodded to Carol, turning his head to her slightly, acknowledging her.
Then he turned to the unsightly Moros, covered in blood, the failure of the Terra family, ruining his reputation even more. A deep feeling of anger arose in him and he began to bellow at his unloved son.
This trash dared not to face him.
"You waste, look at me," an angry shout that drew attention from all eyes, just as Moros had predicted.
The teenager covered in blood, looked up pitifully…his eyes met the ones of his father and he appeared ashamed.
"Remove yourself from my presence AT ONCE!"
Moros gave a courteous bow.
"As you wish, father."
Conjuring a small, sharp stone spear, he thrust the newly conjured weapon directly into his own throat and slashed his own neck open, the rest of the blood spurting in the surroundings, covering the faces of his father and his aunt.
Wordlessly he nodded to them, before collapsing face-first on the floor.