"Shut up!"
The withered and skeletal figure, unable to tolerate the incessant chattering any longer, broke down and yelled:
"The moonlight's protection has a limit! If you keep shouting like that and someone hears us, what do we do?!"
The deafening roar echoed through the silent hallway.
For a moment, even the flickering lantern swayed violently, as if it might fling itself out and shatter at any second.
Creak, creak. Their shadows wavered chaotically on the walls, like mocking demons sneering at them.
Both men fell silent, locking eyes with each other.
After a moment, it was the scar-faced man who broke the silence. His voice low but filled with grievance, he said:
"You're accusing me when it’s clearly your voice that's louder! You want to die, fine, but can't you leave me out of it?!"
"…You son of a—"
The withered figure felt a surge of anger stuck in his chest, unable to go up or down, making him want nothing more than to strangle the scar-faced man in front of him.
But he couldn't. The mission was more important.
On his skeletal, sunken-eyed face, a hint of sharp coldness emerged but was quickly concealed.
"Cut the crap. Move!"
"Oh. To where exactly?"
"Obviously to the deepest part of the Quicksilver Well—"
The withered figure froze mid-sentence.
That voice, though equally infuriating, seemed… different from the scar-faced man's?
He turned his head and saw the scar-faced man with his mouth shut tightly, shaking his head furiously at him.
Could it be—
The withered figure's pupils contracted sharply. He couldn't afford to maintain his hidden state any longer. Shouting to the surroundings, he demanded:
"Who's there?! Stop skulking around—come out right now!"
"Skulking around? That's funny coming from you, sneaking into someone else's domain like rats," a lazy, mocking voice replied.
From within the shadows of the corridor emerged…a Pink Bear.
A Pink Bear?
The withered figure froze for a moment.
What in the world? Is this a joke?
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"My, my, looks like you're a little out of the loop," the Pink Bear said, taking slow steps forward. Its footsteps made an odd "squelch, squelch" noise as it walked across the floor.
"Hasn't anyone told you? I, Pink Bear, is currently the acting principal of this academy."
"The principal?"
The withered figure was visibly shocked, his gaze scanning Pink Bear up and down. No matter how he looked at it, this creature appeared more like a mascot for comic relief.
But he quickly regained his composure.
Even if his intel hadn't mentioned anything about a "Pink Bear," only that Principal Hathaway had left unexpectedly, the fact that this figure appeared in the academy's core area meant it couldn’t be underestimated.
"What a pity," the withered figure said quietly, a cold smile forming on his lips. "I had hoped to resolve this peacefully."
"Would it really kill you to pretend you didn’t see anything?" he added.
"Pretending not to see anything would be great, actually," Pink Bear sighed. "I really don't want to deal with this kind of mess. Being holed up in the office, smoking cigars, and flipping through risqué magazines—now that's the second-best thing in life. By the way, the best thing is watching girls' legs on a sunny beach.
"However, since I'm spending the academy's money, I suppose it’s only right to do something in return. If Professor Pulan pulls another banshee-level rant or outright goes over my head to denounce me and cuts off my funding, it’d be quite a loss for me."
"So it seems I've disrupted your good time?" the withered figure suggested.
"Of course! You damn heretic cultists—couldn’t you wait until after my acting principal tenure ended to cause trouble? This is really pissing me off."
"And when I get pissed off—"
Suddenly, Pink Bear opened its mouth—huge and dark like a black hole—and reached one paw inside, pulling out a massive spiked club.
Its previously lazy tone turned icy and murderous.
"—I feel like killing people."
In an instant.
The thick stench of blood filled the air.
The revolting odor was suffocating, making it feel as though they had been plunged into a battlefield littered with corpses and flowing with rivers of blood.
But strangely, not even a single bloodstain could be seen around them. Where was the smell coming from?
Drip. Drip.
The sound of liquid streaming echoed in the corridor.
It was then that the withered figure noticed—the blood was flowing out of Pink Bear's exaggeratedly cartoonish features. From its round eyes, floppy ears, and obviously decorative nose, bright red fresh blood was cascading down.
Hot and scarlet, the blood exuded a horror far more terrifying than its nonsensical appearance.
"You…what the hell are you?!" the withered figure stuttered, his trembling voice betraying his fear.
Despite having abandoned his living flesh and embraced death itself, looking at the bear’s grotesque transformation, he felt a sensation he hadn’t encountered for centuries—fear. His long-rusted heart quivered under the suffocating pressure.
“You can figure that out…in hell. I’m sure plenty of its residents can fill you in.”
Pink Bear slowly raised the massive spiked club in its paw. For a moment, the withered figure's vision turned crimson, his breathing caught in his throat as if drowning in a monstrous river of blood.
No, wait.
This is just—an illusion?
Shaken back to his senses, the withered figure gripped the lantern in his hand tighter.
The pale blue flame inside the lantern wavered, casting his unsteady shadow onto the walls like a predatory beast lurking in the darkness.
The expanding shadow grabbed Pink Bear's attention. It stopped advancing and stood hesitantly.
"Ha—HAHAHA! See that? I am a child of the moon! Do you really think someone as lowly as you could ever lay a hand on me?" the withered figure roared in deranged laughter, seemingly unaware that the pale blue light was rapidly consuming him. The more the light grew, the more his skeletal frame shriveled, as though an invisible force was draining what little vitality remained in him.
"Figures," Pink Bear jeered, its voice tinged with ridicule. "Another dark god pawn too stupid to recognize how they're being played."
Scratching its head briefly, the bear concluded that this stalemate was pointless. It’d have to risk pushing back against the power tied to the dark god and eliminate this nuisance outright—even if it cost something.
Just as it prepared its next move—
*Schlick.*
The unmistakable sound of a blade slicing through flesh shattered the tense atmosphere.
The withered figure’s hysterical laughter abruptly stopped.
Even Pink Bear, with its exaggerated cartoon face, appeared visibly stunned.
What the hell just happened?
“Why?” the withered figure croaked, his gaze lowering to the blade that had pierced clean through his chest.
In his sunken eyes, there was nothing but disbelief.
"Aren’t we…allies? Aren’t we both…devotees of the great god?"
Why… would you stab me in the back?
"You dare ask?!" came a hoarse, bitter voice from behind him.
It was the scar-faced man. His expression was one of utter indignation.
"My greatest hate in this life is for fools like you—no plan, no fallback, and you couldn’t even hold your own in a fight!"
With that, the scar-faced man kicked the withered figure off the blade, letting his skeletal body crumple to the ground. Tossing the bloodied weapon aside, he turned toward Pink Bear with an ingratiating smile.
"Uh…erm…Brother! No—Boss! I’d like to formally defect to your side! Any chance I’m still welcome?"
