Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

This is a magical artifact created by the censorship organization, imitating the divine artifact "Omniscient Compass".

By converging from each node, a perception barrier capable of covering a radius of hundreds of miles is then deployed.

It can not only sense the activities and presence of demons inside.

Furthermore, different types of demons can be distinguished through different transformations.

Including the prey they hunt.

The elder's fingers trembled slightly.

Each of those points of light is a sensory node.

In this valley spanning hundreds of miles, the sensor nodes are being activated one by one.

All the families participating in the hunt set up this massive magical perception barrier from all directions.

It was the first hunting ground in the forbidden area since the Dark Ages.

The last magical component was connected to the magical pillar.

It was a magic compass, with a brass base engraved with countless concentric circles.

The entire chassis lit up the moment it was connected.

Pale golden light patterns spread outwards from the center, and one red dot after another appeared on the chassis.

It was densely packed, almost covering the entire compass.

Everyone's attention was drawn to it.

They crowded around, nervously watching the information on the compass.

Those red dots were densely packed, almost covering the entire mountain area's projection.

They were all demons, hundreds and thousands of demons.

Some of the red dots are extremely dark, representing legendary status.

On the edge of the compass, there are several almost black dots, motionless, yet they make those who look at them feel uneasy.

That is the epic demon lord.

Aubryn placed his hand on the edge of the compass and infused it with magic.

The red dots representing demonic energy were filtered out one by one.

The light patterns on the chassis flowed like a net that was tightening.

The number of red dots is decreasing.

In the end, very few red dots remained.

O'Brien's gaze fell on the upper part of the compass.

There was a cluster of red dots there.

There was almost nothing around.

Upon seeing this, his eyes dimmed.

"We're too late."

His voice was soft, carrying a sense of resigned weariness.

It's impossible that all the magical families participating in the hunt are as weak as they are.

Families that come in to make up the numbers are the most likely to get a share of the profits.

It means finding leftovers that others haven't noticed.

Now it seems that not even leftovers were left.

As for the place where the red dots cluster together.

That's no longer something they can get their hands on...

The young men around him fell silent.

Just then, Josephine screamed.

"here!!"

She squeezed in, practically lying face down on the compass.

His finger pointed to the lowest point on the compass, his fingertips trembling slightly with excitement.

"Here! There are some that have fallen here!"

Everyone looked in the direction she was pointing.

There is indeed a red dot there.

It's extremely light, so light that it almost blends into the brass color of the chassis.

If she hadn't pointed it out, no one would have noticed.

O'Brien stared at the red dot for a long time.

Then he suddenly raised his head, his voice cracking with excitement.

"It's nearby! Not far away!"

He pointed to the pale red dot on the compass, then looked up and pointed in a certain direction of the valley.

"It's over there!"

Everyone looked in the direction he was looking.

One of the young masters said.

"I just saw Kyle run off in that direction!"

Josephine's expression changed instantly.

She grabbed the staff and shoved her way through the crowd with a menacing glint in her eyes.

"Damn Kyle! That prey is mine!"

She practically rushed out.

The hem of her robe was torn open by thorns, but she paid no heed.

The other young men also realized what was happening and rushed after them.

Footsteps were chaotic, and gravel was kicked and scattered everywhere.

O'Brien watched their retreating figures and sighed.

He sat on the ground, leaning against the silver-white magic pillar.

The prolonged depletion of his magical energy left him nearly exhausted, and his fingers were still trembling slightly.

"Let them handle the hunting. The prey is very weak; we don't need everyone to go."

He looked around.

The others also slumped to the ground, some drinking water, others bandaging the blisters on their feet.

O'Brien spoke instinctively.

"Let's switch shifts, thank you for your hard work from now on..."

His words caught in his throat.

He looked around, once, then again.

The girl has also disappeared.

Kyle was the first to rush out.

He didn't make a fuss or call anyone.

He spotted the pale red dot the moment O'Brien took out the compass and filtered out the red dots.

He memorized the directions.

Then, while everyone was still focused on the compass...

He quietly retreated to the edge of the crowd, then turned and ran.

He ventured alone into the hills and dense forests.

With a swing of his staff, he violently smashed aside the dead branches and bushes blocking his path.

With the Swiftness spell activated in his legs, his steps were light and rapid as he swiftly moved towards the area marked with a red dot.

The credit belongs to him, and it can only belong to him alone.

Those guys aren't worthy of competing with him, Josephine isn't worthy, that black-haired bastard isn't worthy, not even O'Brien is worthy.

He risked his life to cross the forbidden land, a journey that took him six days, during which he was nearly trampled into mincemeat by a legendary demon.

All of this cannot be in vain.

Just catch this one, just one.

He would then be valued by the family, be able to stand on equal footing with the direct descendants, and never have to be subservient to anyone again.

His heart was pounding, not from the exhaustion of the Swiftness spell, but from excitement.

The image of him returning triumphantly with his prey was already beginning to appear in my mind.

O'Brien's shocked gaze, Josephine's face twisted with jealousy.

And then there was the approval that finally appeared on the usually indifferent face of the family elder.

Finally, Kyle arrived at a meadow in a dense forest.

Kyle knew the distance ratios on the compass, and with just a glance, he could roughly estimate the distance.

I never expected that the mathematical skills I had diligently studied to curry favor with my cronies would come in handy here.

He stopped walking, his chest heaving violently.

He eagerly raised his staff, channeling magic into it and chanting a spell for high-level perception magic.

The long, drawn-out incantation, which lasted for several minutes, finally ended.

An invisible ripple spread out from the tip of the staff.

It swept across every inch of the surrounding land, every rock, and every clump of bushes.

The ripples dissipated, but gave Kyle no feedback whatsoever.

He paused for a moment, then recited it again.

This time, more magic was injected, and the range of perception was greater.

The ripples swept across, but nothing was found. There was no magical fluctuation.

There were no signs of life, and no trace of hiding.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Another recitation, another no response.

Once again, and once more.

Most of his magic power was depleted, and his arm trembled slightly from casting spells continuously.

The ripples of the perceived magic spread out again and again, only to disappear into the air once more.

There was nothing there.

"Impossible, impossible!!"

He roared angrily.

The staff was swung roughly, smashing into clumps of bushes where the person might be hiding.

The dead branches and broken leaves were scattered by the staff, flying everywhere.

"Come out! Come out right now!!"

His voice echoed through the dense forest, hoarse and menacing.

"Come out if you don't want to die! I've had enough of this endless hunt!! Come out now—"

"come out!!"

His roar was so loud that it carried far through the silent forest.

The sound was extremely loud, which was especially deadly in the wilderness.

Soon, a whooshing sound came from afar.

The branches and leaves swayed; something was rapidly approaching.

Kyle's voice stopped abruptly.

He turned around abruptly, his face turning deathly pale.

It's a demon...

I recalled the horrible things I had encountered along the way.

He recalled that terrible demon whose power surpassed that of his teacher.

Like a frightened mouse, he scrambled and crawled into the nearby bushes.

His fingers trembled as he gripped the staff, and his lips quivered as he chanted the incantation for the Concealing Breath spell.

The incantation stopped at the third syllable; his teeth were chattering, and his tongue seemed to be tied in knots.

He tried again, but failed again.

"Damn it... damn it..."

He huddled in the grass, covering his mouth tightly, his eyes reddening with fear.

The whooshing sound grew closer and closer.

The grass in front of him began to sway.

A little green imp slowly emerged from the grass.

It was only half a person's height, with dark green skin that was wrinkled and stuck to its bones.

With its head close to the ground, it walked and sniffed around, seemingly searching for something.

Kyle was stunned.

Then, as if his bones had been removed, he collapsed to the ground.

Green-skinned imps, the lowest rank of demons.

Even a low-level mage can be killed at will, let alone a high-level mage like him.

He pinched his thigh, breathing silently, a twisted smile of relief spreading across his face.

It's okay, just wait for it to go, it'll be fine once it's gone.

However, the green-skinned imp did not leave.

It lay on the ground, its nose pressed against the earth, sniffing carefully at something.

It wasn't aimless wandering, but rather a search for a certain scent.

Moreover, it didn't seem to be his scent.

Kyle looked at him with a puzzled expression.

I watched it sniff back and forth several times along an invisible path.

Finally, it stopped in front of an inconspicuous patch of grass.

The grass there was sparse and uneven.

The green imp sniffed again, then began to paw at the ground, making excited gurgling sounds in its throat.

Just as it was about to burrow into the depths of the grass, a pale hand reached out from the ground.

That hand grabbed its neck.

Fingers as thin as withered twigs were firmly gripping the green-skinned imp's throat.

The green-skinned imp didn't even have time to let out a scream before being dragged underground.

The soil and turf rejoined, and everything returned to normal, as if nothing had ever happened.

Kyle crouched in the grass, his eyes wide open.

He stared at the patch of grass, and realizing something, he swallowed hard.

Then, he gripped his staff and emerged from the bushes.

His legs were still weak, but he forced himself to take a step.

One step, two steps, three steps, each step more stable than the last.

He walked to the grassy area, squatted down, and reached out to lift the turf.

Those grasses didn't grow in the soil; they were carefully woven together.

This created a movable camouflage cover.

Beneath the grass was a small cave.

Kyle lay down at the entrance of the hole and looked inside.

The cave was very small, only big enough for an adult to curl up and lie down.

It was dark and damp inside, with a smell of earth and blood.

Then, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cave.

He saw it.

A boy.

They huddled in the deepest part of the cave.

He was emaciated and covered in injuries.

His arms, legs, and chest were covered in dried bloodstains and fresh wounds.

His hair was a tangled mess, stuck to his forehead, obscuring his face.

But in his hand, he was tightly gripping the little green devil.

Fingers dug into the little devil's neck, nails embedding themselves into the dark green flesh.

The little devil's throat had been choked, and his body was still twitching slightly.

Then the boy looked up.

Blood-red eyes peeked out from between the strands of his disheveled hair.

It was a deeper red than a ruby, carrying burning hatred and chilling killing intent.

Those eyes stared intently at Kyle at the cave entrance in the darkness, like a wild beast cornered.

Kyle and he locked eyes for a moment.

He suddenly covered his mouth, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably from suppressed excitement.

It wasn't fear, it was ecstasy.

Blood-red eyes, blood-red eyes.

He found it.

They found their prey.

Standing outside the cave entrance.

He stared into those blood-red eyes, his shoulders trembling with suppressed excitement.

Blood-red eyes.

Blood-red eyes.

The eyes that the academy so despised have now become the ones he most longs to see.

How ironic.

His hands trembled as he groped his body.

First, there's the inner pocket of the robe, then the storage bag at the waist.

My fingers were so excited that they became clumsy and touched the wrong spot several times.

Finally, he pulled a metal collar from his waist.

The inside of the collar was engraved with densely packed binding runes, which gleamed with a cold silver light in the dim light.

Slave collars are items specifically used to restrain people.

Once it's on, even the strongest person will become a helpless cripple.

He gripped the collar and stepped into the cave.

The cave was very narrow, and his body almost blocked the entire entrance.

But Kyle didn't care at all.

The boy in front of me only possessed the aura of a mid-level cultivator.

Moreover, he was covered in wounds, curled up in the deepest part of the body, and couldn't even stand up.

One hand was still gripping the green-skinned brat's neck, the knuckles protruding from the force, but it was already at its last gasp.

He said with a smile.

"Stop struggling, I don't want to hurt you."

"after all--"

His gaze swept over the boy's numerous wounds, his tone carrying the cold indifference of someone examining merchandise.

"The value of an injured half-demon is halved."

The boy raised his head, his blood-red eyes fixed on his face through the gaps in his messy hair.

That look seemed to want to gouge his face out and carve it into his bones.

His voice was hoarse, filled with hatred squeezed from the depths of his throat.

"You'll all go to hell sooner or later!"

Kyle gave a cold laugh.

"Keep those words to yourself."

He took a step forward, his boots making a dull thud on the damp mud.

He slightly raised the slave collar in his hand, and the runes began to glow with a pale silver light.

"It won't be long before I see your contributions in magic textbooks."

He rushed toward the boy, grabbing his thin shoulder with one hand and using the other to slip the collar around his frail neck.

puff.

Warm liquid splashed onto the boy's face.

Kyle's hand froze.

The slave collar slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a dull metallic clang.

He looked down in disbelief at his chest.

The tip of a dagger pierced through his chest, stained with his own blood.