"If the wounds are deep, then with one swift stroke, sever the cursed ties of yesterday…"
As the prison's upbeat chime rang through the halls, Ash got out of bed and began his morning routine. While brushing his teeth, he couldn't stop thinking about Swordmaiden's strange behavior over the past couple of days.
She'd shifted from casual chats to a barrage of targeted questions in the Void Realm: What colors he liked, how he made friends, his preference for suspense versus horror—and even whether he preferred "big" or "small." The last one left Ash utterly baffled. Wasn't the answer obvious? Who wouldn't prefer big?!
To add to the confusion, Swordmaiden seemed to cycle through entirely different attitudes during their interactions—sometimes warm and caring, other times aloof and proud, occasionally sultry, or even sweetly naive.
Ash's main takeaway: if her personality shifts came with wardrobe changes, that would be even better.
He'd tried asking if something was wrong, but she'd just shrugged it off, leaving him mildly paranoid. Was she running some kind of psychological experiment on him?
The only other plausible explanation he could come up with was… perhaps it was that time of the month.
Mood swings, sudden talkativeness, curiosity—it all seemed to line up. The thought made Ash marvel at the commitment to realism: Even digital waifus get monthly cycles?
Shrugging off his musings, Ash opened his interface. A notification from Aurora's Mage Handbook popped up:
"Bloodthirsty Swordmaiden's weekly growth evaluation is complete. Please review the report and set next week's training plan."
"Growth Report: Week 4/19–4/25"
Sword Arts: Silver → Silver
Light Arts: Silver → Silver
Water Arts: Silver → Silver
Mind Arts: 0 → Silver
Mana: Silver Half-Wing → Silver Full-Wing
"Training Grade: A!"
"Due to the A-grade evaluation, Bloodthirsty Swordmaiden has undergone a class enhancement: [Slayer of Silver] → [Soulbreaker of Silver]."
[Soulbreaker of Silver: Each successful attack deals an additional 1% soul damage.]
Ash's eyes lit up. Since all enemies in the Void Realm were spirit-based, this essentially meant Swordmaiden now dealt bonus true damage. Given her rapid attack speed, the cumulative damage potential was enormous.
While her class change was impressive, Ash was still a bit salty. Why doesn't my growth get a report? He glanced at his unimproved Cult Leader class. Four Pillars' blessings? Not once had they kicked in. What a scam.
After tallying their loot—split 60/40 in his favor—he converted excess Spirit shards into points. Ash's balance now stood at 124 points—still short of the 198 he needed for a Bag of Source Crystals.
With no time for his beloved ritual of card-pulling, Ash quickly set Swordmaiden's training plan for the next week. He considered the usual focus on Sword Arts but paused. This must be her "special time," he reasoned. Out of mercy, he adjusted her schedule to allow one hour of rest—just for today.
The pain of management, he thought. Watching an employee rest felt like losing money.
Setting the plan before he could change his mind, Ash made his way to breakfast. Upon entering the central hall, he found it abuzz with activity—not another volunteer recruitment, but a crowd fixated on the news broadcast.
Even Igula was watching intently.
"What's the news?" Ash nudged him. "Did the citizens finally grow a conscience and decide to boycott the inhumane Bloodmoon Trials?"
"Better," Igula murmured, his eyes glued to the screen. "Fenanshe has fallen."
"Who?"
"The Mayor of Kaimon City. He's finished!"
The broadcast showed a somber scene: ruined streets, fires blazing, and bodies scattered amidst the wreckage of Kaimon City's upper district.
The anchor, a poised and beautiful woman with a faintly alluring charm—likely part siren—stood atop a damaged high-rise. Her purple-furred sleeves gave her a delicate, doll-like appearance, though her voice brimmed with controlled fury.
"Behind me lies the once-bustling heart of Kaimon City, now reduced to rubble, flames, corpses, and shattered dreams."
"These were workers heading to their offices, couples out shopping, aspiring legends, or ordinary citizens striving for a better life. Now, they are lifeless bodies—sacrifices in a disaster that should never have happened."
"Igniting public anger on live TV," Igula muttered. "This is state propaganda at work. Bloodmoon elites are throwing someone under the bus to quell public outrage."
"It has been 40 hours since the first attack, and we must ask—why haven't the authorities apprehended the perpetrators? Why do attacks continue? Why is the upper district still a high-risk zone, with even rescue teams avoiding entry?"
"Where has our tax money gone? Why are we, the citizens of Kaimon City, paying the price for incompetence? And most importantly—who will answer for these lives lost?"
Suddenly, splatter! Blood sprayed across the screen.
The crowd gasped as the anchor was violently cut down mid-broadcast. Though many in the prison had grown desensitized to violence, a live execution on air still drew shock and morbid fascination.
The screen briefly went dark before cutting to a new scene: a clean, stately office. Behind a large desk sat a blue-skinned ogre dressed impeccably in a black suit. Despite his neat appearance and calm demeanor, his sheer size and monstrous features made his race unmistakable.
The ogre began speaking with measured gravitas:
"I am Arandal Fenanshe, Mayor of Kaimon City."
"It is with great sorrow that I inform you the death toll has now reached 13,000. The Hunters' Bureau is operating at full capacity, and the Administration has mobilized adventurers from the nearby Lakeview Warzone to assist in capturing the attackers."
"These attackers entered Bloodmoon through illicit Void Realm portals. I must admit my share of responsibility for this. The decision to conduct joint Void research with other nations was made collectively by the Administration, Parliament, Hunters' Bureau, and Lakeview Warzone. However, if my department had exercised greater caution…"
"He's threatening his co-conspirators," Igula said with a wicked grin. "He's reminding them: 'If I go down, you're coming with me.'"
"To ensure a thorough investigation, I will temporarily step down from my duties as mayor. Deputy Mayor Gro will serve as acting mayor in my absence. I deeply apologize for the failure of my administration."
With a deep bow, Fenanshe concluded the broadcast.
The prisoners erupted into cheers. The rare spectacle of someone powerful facing consequences sparked a wave of sardonic glee. Amidst the commotion, Ash noticed Igula's unusual excitement—his ears were flushed, and he could barely suppress a grin.
"Do you have beef with Fenanshe or something?" Ash asked, puzzled.
Igula grabbed Ash by the shoulders, his voice trembling with exhilaration. "Don't you get it? With the mayor under heavy scrutiny, he'll be detained immediately!"
"So?"
"In cases like this, the mayor is always isolated in the nearest Bloodmoon prison during the investigation—for his safety and to prevent suicide."
The realization hit Ash like a bolt. "You mean…"
Igula's eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on prey.
"Fenanshe's transfer to Sunderlake Prison will be our chance to escape!"
"When will he arrive?"
"Probably tomorrow. They'll keep him in the Hunters' Bureau overnight to adjust his chip permissions."
Their voices synchronized in a hushed, electric whisper:
"Just in time for tomorrow's Bloodmoon Trial."