The Demon's Hideout
Twenty kilometres away from the bustling Arcadia Academy, there are twisted roots of an ancient forest.
This was the demon stronghold.
At the head of the table sat a demon cloaked in shadow, a shadow disciple.
A talisman, materialized in mid-air, floating gently before landing on the stone table.
The room instantly fell silent.
The Shadow Disciple extended a clawed hand, long fingers curling as he took the talisman. The faint glow pulsed under his touch, reacting to the dark mana in his veins.
"So," he murmured. "The first-year rescue team… only eight of them. Perfect."
The surrounding demons leaned in, eager for the news. "What does it say, Master?" one of the lesser fiends hissed.
"The humans have sent their new recruits to Blackstone Plaza," the Shadow Disciple replied with amusement.
"They think they are rescuing villagers from mere beasts and escaped prisoners. Fools."
