Chapter 345: The Demon of Illusion.

Without waiting longer, Kael turned toward the newly opened gate. A system screen appeared before him as he stepped forward.

[level 54: Demon General of Deception & Fear]

The moment he crossed the threshold, the gate slammed shut behind him.

Silence swallowed him whole.

As Kael left for the next dungeon, Yumi and the saber girl also followed him.

"Demon of…Fear and deception," he said to himself.

The moment Kael crossed fully into Level 54, the dungeon changed its nature.

There was no explosion.

No overwhelming pressure like before.

Instead—there was quiet.

The stone floor beneath Kael's boots was smooth, polished like black glass, reflecting his figure faintly.

The walls stretched upward into darkness, their edges blurred, as if the dungeon itself refused to hold a definite shape. There were no torches. No runes. No veins of mana.

"This feels weird"

Kael slowed his steps. His breath echoed once… twice… then stopped echoing altogether.

"…This level is wrong," he muttered.

Then—

Someone spoke behind him.

"Kael."

His body reacted before his mind. He spun around, sword already half-drawn—

And froze.

Standing a few steps behind him was Cecelia.

She looked exactly as she had at the academy. Same silver hair. Same calm eyes. Same faint crease between her brows when she was worried.

"…You left without telling anyone," she said. "Do you know how long we searched for you?"

Kael's grip tightened.

"…Illusion," he said under his breath.

But his heart betrayed him—skipping, tightening painfully.

Cecelia stepped closer.

"You always do this," she continued. "You carry everything alone. You think suffering is strength."

Her voice was gentle.

Kael forced himself to raise his sword fully, pointing it at her chest.

"You're not real," he said firmly. "Step back."

Cecelia's eyes shimmered.

"…So you really won't listen," she whispered.

Her form rippled.

Her face cracked like shattered glass—

—and peeled away.

The illusion collapsed inward, folding into itself like burning paper, revealing something far worse beneath.

A tall, thin figure now stood where Cecelia had been.

Its body was unnaturally elongated, limbs too long, joints bending at angles no living being should possess.

Flowing black veils wrapped around its form, drifting as if underwater despite the still air.

And its face—

—or rather, faces—shifted constantly.

Edwin's smirk flashed across it.

Then Selena's worried eyes.

Then Yumi, crying.

Then Kael's own face—bloodied, hollow-eyed, smiling in despair.

The demon's eyes glowed pale violet, unblinking, piercing straight through him.

A system-like whisper slid into Kael's mind rather than appearing before his eyes.

"I am Nerothiel, the Thousand-Faced Whisper" some whisper slowly.

"General of Delusion"

The demon tilted its head slowly, as if studying him.

"Ah…" it murmured.

Its voice layered—dozens of voices speaking at once, overlapping softly, intimately.

"So this is the one who killed Varkazan."

Kael didn't answer.

He steadied his breathing, forcing his racing heart into rhythm.

Nerothiel drifted closer, its veils trailing along the floor without sound.

"I am not like the others," it continued. "I do not crush bones. I do not split flesh."

Its face shifted again—this time into a man Kael had not seen in years.

A face from his previous life.

Someone he had failed.

Kael's vision wavered.

"I break certainty," Nerothiel whispered. "I erode identity. I unravel the lies you tell yourself just to stand."

The dungeon around them changed.

The black stone melted away—

—and suddenly, Kael was no longer in the dungeon.

He stood in a burning city.

Buildings collapsed in the distance. Smoke choked the sky. Screams echoed endlessly. His hands were trembling—human hands, not the trained body he now possessed.

"No…" Kael whispered.

"You remember," Nerothiel said gently, now wearing the face of a fallen comrade. "The moment you chose wrong."

Figures emerged from the smoke—people he had tried to save.

Their eyes were hollow.

"You ran," one accused.

"You hesitated," another said.

"You failed us."

Kael's knees buckled slightly.

His sword felt heavy. Distant.

"…This isn't real," he said through clenched teeth.

Nerothiel smiled—with Kael's own face.

"But it was," the demon replied. "And that is enough."

The illusion deepened.

Kael felt the heat. Smelled the ash. Heard the cries with unbearable clarity. His chest tightened, breath coming shallow as guilt surged like poison through his veins.

This was not a simple vision.

This was memory—weaponized.

"You think strength is enough," Nerothiel whispered, circling him. "But every blade dulls when doubt grips the hand that wields it."

The world shifted again.

Now Kael stood alone in the dungeon—but his body was broken. Arms twisted. Sword shattered at his feet.

Yumi lay motionless nearby.

The saber girl knelt, head bowed, blade snapped in two.

"…You couldn't protect them," Nerothiel said softly. "Just like before."

Kael screamed and swung his sword—

—but the image shattered, dissolving into violet mist.

He was back in the dark hall.

Panting.

Sweat drenched his body.

His heart pounded violently.

Nerothiel stood before him.

"Your mind is loud," the demon observed calmly. "So many regrets. So many fears."

Its face shifted again—this time into Kael as he was now.

"You are terrified," it said, speaking with Kael's own voice, "that without pain, you are nothing."

Kael steadied himself.

Slowly.

He closed his eyes.

"…You're wrong," he said.

Nerothiel paused.

"Oh?"

Kael exhaled.

"When I fought Varkazan," he continued, "he fed on blood. On wounds. On endurance."

He opened his eyes, gaze steady.

"But you," he said, staring straight into the demon's shifting faces, "feed on attention."

The dungeon trembled faintly.

Nerothiel's smile faltered—for just a fraction of a second.

Kael lifted his sword—not aggressively, but calmly.

"You show me fear because you don't have a form strong enough to face me directly."

The demon's veils fluttered violently now.

"Careful," Nerothiel warned, voices sharpening. "Awareness does not grant immunity."

"No," Kael agreed. "But it gives me choice."

He took one step forward.

Then another.

Each step made the illusions crack, like fractured glass under pressure.

"I won't deny my past," Kael said. "I won't erase it."

He raised his sword fully.

"But I won't let it command me either."

Nerothiel's eyes burned brighter.

"…Interesting," it whispered.

The dungeon darkened further, shadows thickening like tar.

"Then let us see," the demon said, spreading its veils wide, faces multiplying, voices overlapping into a maddening chorus—

"—how long your resolve survives when reality itself turns against you."

Kael staggered back a step as the shadows thickened, his senses screaming at him from all directions at once.

The dungeon no longer had a single shape. Walls bent inward, then stretched away. The floor rippled like water beneath his boots.

Whispers pressed into his ears.

(How do I fight this demon?) Kael thought.

This wasn't like Varkazan.

There was no predictable arc of a blade. No rhythm of violence he could read. Every instinct that had kept him alive so far—speed, precision, endurance—felt useless here.

Nerothiel did not rush him.

It drifted.

Faces peeled and reformed across its veil-covered head—Yumi smiling, Edwin laughing, Selena looking disappointed, then a stranger's bloodied face staring in silent accusation.

Each one tugged at something deep inside Kael's chest.

"You are thinking of counters," Nerothiel whispered, its voice sliding through his thoughts like smoke. "But you cannot doubt."

Kael felt his vision blur.

For a moment, the dungeon dissolved—and he was back in Arcadia's training grounds. His sword lay broken at his feet. Students stood around him, shaking their heads.

"Overrated."

"He's not special."

"He just got lucky."

His grip loosened on his sword.

No.

Kael's teeth ground together. He forced his breathing into a steady rhythm, in through the nose, out through the mouth—something he had learned long ago, back when pain was his only teacher.

This is an illusion, he reminded himself. A mental attack.

But knowing that didn't stop the weight pressing down on him. The demon wasn't simply showing him images—it was pulling him into them, blurring the line between memory and present.

His heart began to race.

His thoughts slowed.

"If this continues… I'll lose myself."

Kael glanced down at his hands.

They looked distant.

His fingers trembled.

"…Tch," he muttered.

Suddenly, his free hand tightened into a fist.

Before he could hesitate—before fear could argue otherwise—Kael raised his sword and dragged the blade across his left palm.

SHRK.

Blood welled instantly, hot and vivid.

Pain exploded through his nerves—sharp, undeniable, real.

Kael gasped, biting back a groan as crimson droplets splashed onto the dark stone floor. The sensation cut through the fog in his mind like lightning tearing apart storm clouds.

The illusions flickered.

The voices stuttered.

Nerothiel recoiled slightly, violet eyes narrowing.

"Oh?" it whispered.

Kael clenched his bleeding hand, letting the pain anchor him.

Pain is real, he thought fiercely. And reality doesn't lie.

The burning in his palm grounded him—every pulse of his heart sending fresh agony through his nerves. It was unpleasant.

The false Arcadia shattered.

The accusing faces cracked and dissolved.

The dungeon snapped back into place, shadows retreating slightly as Kael's awareness sharpened.

He exhaled heavily, shoulders rising and falling.

"…There you are," Kael said hoarsely, lifting his head to face Nerothiel again.

The demon's many faces twisted, displeasure rippling across its shifting features.

"You harm yourself to remain awake," Nerothiel said.

"How… primitive."

"Maybe," Kael replied, blood dripping from his fingers. "But it works."

He tightened his grip on his sword, smearing blood along the hilt. The metallic scent filled the air, further grounding his senses.

Nerothiel circled him slowly.

"Pain is fleeting," the demon murmured. "I will simply drown it beneath something deeper."

The shadows surged again, pressing inward, heavier than before.

Kael swallowed, steadying his stance.

(So this is the battlefield), he thought.

(Not the body… the mind.)