Rogue kept his magical senses active. The moment he stepped out of Moy’s cell, the feeling of being watched quickly receded.

As expected, someone was monitoring this place—and with greater intensity than usual.

Were they afraid something might happen to Moy and me?

Leaving early was wise. I’ll visit Moy again later.

After giving instructions to No. 4, Rogue pulled out his quill and parchment, writing as he walked like always.

Back in his room, he began summarizing what he’d learned from Moy.

"Moy and I get along well. Given my identity and her knowledge of me, I must’ve been one of the seven former Hero Squad members. My class..."

A standard Hero Squad had seven roles: swordsman, warrior, knight, archer, Dark Mage, White Mage, and Priest.

"Dark Mage" was shorthand for battle mage. Aria was one—a fierce combatant. White Mages focused on support magic, easing the Priest’s burden.

Rogue had studied histories of past Hero Squads. Only those with these main classes received the Deity’s Divine Edict, gained the Hero Mark, and formed squads to vanquish the Demon King. Secondary classes varied, but main roles were fixed.

After a squad succeeded or failed, the Hero Mark vanished until the next was chosen.

Rogue knew his own abilities. He was likely a Priest, or at worst, a support mage.

"She wants me to escape the Demon Lord Fortress and return to the surface..."

Aria and I were enemies before my amnesia. She lied to me, then cast a suggestion spell—or perhaps more.

If I hadn’t stumbled on my parchment journal, I might never have realized it. I’d trusted her unconditionally. Given my nature, it’s inconceivable I sensed nothing wrong.

Now it makes sense. I bear the Deity’s blessing too. As a Hero, I once received the Divine Edict. Did Aria manipulate me to learn its contents?

She always yearned for the Deity. That’s plausible.

So Moy meant for me to escape, return to the surface, and join a new Hero Squad to vanquish Aria?

Or reunite my old teammates? One dead, one imprisoned, one is me—four missing.

Rogue shook his head, pushing the thought down. Not my focus now.

He wouldn’t fully trust Moy. Everything needed verification.

My background was another puzzle. Moy called me an outsider—I believed her. Those strange writings only I understand don’t belong here.

Most importantly...

Rogue pulled Lilitha’s pendant from his pocket. He’d kept it since Gudexia’s fall. When raising Lilitha, he’d use it to calm her if she neared breaking—a backup.

Was Moy hinting at targeting Lilitha? Or was this pendant more than it seemed?

But its magic had faded completely. The diamond-shaped ice crystal at its tip was shattered. Just an ordinary pendant now.

Too many unknowns. And a bigger problem loomed:

How to investigate secretly past Aria’s spies? And Eris—that one needed eliminating too.

"Huff..."

A detailed plan was needed. First, ensure Moy’s survival. Then dig into Lilitha’s past, like her previous owner.

After sorting his thoughts, noon arrived. Fed Lilitha, organized Moy’s morning words, and headed to Aria’s castle.

Aria was out on business. Only Kurero was there. Rogue submitted the interrogation report as usual, then went to the tavern.

He bought blood wine and delivered it that day to Cell No. 1 demon, Gilbert.

The wine was a ruse. Rogue needed the tavern keeper’s intel—he’d checked with his blessing.

The keeper’s desires held no "gain Rogue’s trust." Trustworthy for now.

Rogue’s interrogation successes always relied on his blessing.

Against weaker beings, it revealed their deepest thoughts—even subconscious ones—to predict their moves.

Back in his room, he summoned Puppet No. 5. The last survivor of Overlord Magic.

He’d tested high-level life magic on Puppets No. 1–4. Constant failures, but occasional successes gave them a trace of thought linked to him.

No. 5 was an older alchemical puppet. Rogue planned to practice new magic on it.

That instinctive spell he used on Moy—it wasn’t ordinary necromancy.

Positioning No. 5 before him, Rogue slowly activated the magic, sensing mana shifts. Then he realized something troubling: this spell required human life force to cast.

Consumption was minimal, but necessary. An Overlord-level spell would drain his life dry.

Using living beings as fuel... this wasn’t righteous magic.

The more he used it, the more uneasy Rogue felt. This magic was terrifyingly powerful—and seemed to erode the caster’s sanity.

He approached No. 5, staring at its hand. Once pure alchemical metal, rusted seams now revealed wriggling flesh-like strands.

Alive. Thinking. It shrank back into the mechanical finger under his gaze.

"I’ll investigate this magic later," Rogue muttered after observing awhile, then sent No. 5 back to work.

Without my Hero Squad ties, this magic would make me suspect my pre-amnesia self was an evil sorcerer.

Night fell. The paused downpour resumed. Thunderclaps roared. Rogue glanced at the warehouse beside his house—a scream pierced the air.

Lilitha was scared by the thunder again.