What Shiori said…
...was true.
Karl's father was a criminal.
But Karl had never in his life heard the word Genocider.
A terrorist? Yes
A Genocider?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"What are you talking about?" Karl stepped back, bewildered. "Why are you saying all this now? And how are you so sure?"
Shiori said nothing.
She strode right up to him, her eyes ablaze, and clutched his collar with shaking hands.
"Because your father killed our parents. And you knew it."
"What…?" Karl asked in a whisper, astonished.
Aoimi's face darkened. "Is he really the son of that bastard?"
"That guy… that murderer. he's his son." Kiyomi muttered, biting her nails in disgust.
Riomi's eyes were full of rage. Her sword was already in her hand.
His father killed our parents. I will not forgive him.
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" he shouted. "I swear - I had no idea! Why would I hide something like this?"
"Liar." Shiori's grasp on his collar intensified as her voice shook. "This dungeon is the proof. You knew it all along."
"I'm telling the truth. Please, believe me—"
"SHUT UP!"
"Shiori screamed at him, her tears falling uncontrollably.
"YOU'RE THE SON OF THE GENOCIDER!
Riomi's sword halted just inches from Karl's neck.
He froze.
Shiori wiped her tears away, glaring at him.
She told him, "Dungeons don't appear randomly.
"They are born from memories and fear. This dungeon. is made from your memories and our fear."
Aoimi stepped forward. Her voice was cold.
"Enough talking."
Karl looked desperately at her, but she did not listen.
"I watched you as a child," Shiori whispered. "I saw how people bullied you because of who your father was. And I believed you didn't deserve that."
Her lips quivered, yet her words were heartless.
"But now?
After having known the truth?
I think you did deserve it.
They should have killed you."
Aoimi seized Karl with a flick of her hand.
Magical chains wrapped his wrists and ankles, lashing him onto a wooden T-shaped torture plank.
Karl struggled, terrified.
Aoimi stepped back with a blank expression.
"You may not know what they suffered.
She raised her hand.
"But you're going to experience everything."
"That Genocider… he slashed the children first."
Riomi stepped forward.
Her blade flashed.
Karl felt the first cut slice into his chest—
then the second—
then the third.
By the tenth strike, he was screaming.
By the twentieth, he was sobbing.
By the thirtieth, he could feel blood running into his eyes.
By the fifty-second, he was conscious barely; tears and blood dripped together.
His voice cracked.
"P-Please… I didn't do anything… please…"
But no one listened.
Riomi stopped only when her arm shook in anger and exhaustion.
Aoimi stepped next.
"And then he cut the women…"
Her sword glowed.
With one clean motion, she severed Karl's leg.
His scream tore through the hall.
The sound echoed like a dying animal.
Another swing.
His arm fell limp, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
Karl couldn't move anymore.
He could not raise his head.
His breath came in broken, shaky gasps.
Kiyomi walked toward him with a look full of hatred.
"And then he burned the young… and the adults."
Small magic circles spun around her fingers.
"I will give you the pain they felt… every single one."
Fire erupted.
Karl's skin blistered instantly.
His flesh turned black and brown.
His hair burned off.
The smell of cooked meat filled the dungeon.
His voice died.
Silence.
Shiori approached the charred, broken shape that used to be Karl.
"Then, He chopped them," she whispered.
"And so will we."
The four of them lifted Karl's limp body into the air with magic—
and then their blades moved together.
One slash.
Two.
Dozens.
His body came apart in sections, spilling across the blood-drenched floor.
Shiori watched the remains of Karl, the boy who wanted to be a Magi, the boy who trusted them, the boy who believed in them.
There was no breath left in him.
No spark.
Nothing.
Karl was dead...
"This is it… this was what happened.
And it was no dream."
Karl lay frozen on the hospital bed.
The ceiling was unfamiliar.
The air smelled clean—too clean.
And his body… this body… wasn't his.
"I'm alive. but in another's body."
His fingers were longer, stronger.
His pulse felt heavier, as if magic itself was flowing through veins that weren't his.
He looked at his reflection on the polished window.
White hair.
Golden eyes.
A serene, kingly presence he never possessed.
This wasn't Karl.
This was—
"I… I am the Guild A's captain…?"
His voice shook.
Shiro Kami.
The strongest Magi in the North.
A legend.
A panic rose in Karl's throat.
"No… I cannot live like this. I'm not him. I cannot control this body, this power.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open.
"Thank God you're alive."
A tall swordsman entered, sharp-eyed and with a scar upon his cheek, an aura about him like that of a seasoned warrior.
It was Slade Akami, Guild A's swordsman. Right hand of Shiro.
Same age as Karl.
He hurriedly went to Karl's bedside.
"Captain Shiro, we thought we lost you! You were attacked from behind during the S-Level raid."
Karl swallowed.
Captain…?
They think I'm him… Shiro Kami…
More people burst in before he could get the words out—mages, healers, supporters—all donning the crest of Guild A.
"Captain! Praise the heavens!"
"You're awake!
"You're really alive!!"
Their eyes shone with relief.
With confidence. With loyalty. Something inside Karl stirred, deep in his chest. Something unfamiliar.
A heaviness.
A warmth.
A painful pressure, like two feelings are colliding.
"I am feeling something…
He clutched the edge of the blanket.
His heart thumped hard.
"But… what is this?"
He couldn't describe it.
Was it the echo of the real Shiro Kami-the soul that once lived in this body?
For the first time since waking up…
A tear slid down Karl's cheek.
His emotions weren't Karl's alone anymore.
They were Shiro's, too.
And, Karl had no idea…
The body he now lived in—Shiro Kami's body—was not human.
And this was why he was the Leader of Guild A.
He reached to his chest and winced.
His heart was bound in heavy bandages.
"Something… is here."
His voice cracked and he pressed his palm against the thick wrappings.
He pushed himself out of the bed and stood in front of the mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was unreal. He was Tall. Muscular. And Hair like moonlight.
"I feel… something…"
He muttered to himself in confusion.
Slade cleared his throat and gestured to the others.
"Everyone. Out. Let me talk to the Captain alone." The room cleared.
And then, Silence. Once again...
Only Slade and Karl remained.
Slade folded his arms.
"It was during the S-Level Dungeon Raid that you were attacked. Sudden and vicious, not even you had expected it.
Karl barely heard him. Because, His eyes were glued to his new reflection.
This body…
This power…
This presence…
It was nothing like Karl.
Then Slade spoke again, casually-too casually: "It's great they didn't find out you are a demon."
Karl's eyes widened.
"A… what?"
Karl's legs began to weaken.
Shiro Kami…
Guild A's leader…
Was a demon?
Slade stepped closer.
"The heart you were living off… your demon heart… was destroyed in the fight.
Karl swallowed. The heart was Destroyed?
Slade continued, lowering his voice: "But don't you worry. I had a spare. The one that I stole from the underground vault."
Karl's chest tightened.
This feeling inside me… it so heavy.
Is it The despair? The dark pressure that kept growing since he awoke.
So that was it.
This emotion wasn't his.
It was the emotion of the heart beating inside him.
A demon heart full of despair.
Slade clenched his fist.
"I think Veil Da Vorch did it."
"He must be working with that traitor."
The name reverberated in Karl's mind.
Veil Da Vorch.
Who was he?
Why did he attack Shiro Kami?
And also, why… why was Karl now trapped in the body of a demon?
Karl held the mirror with trembling fingers.
"Despair… That's what I'm feeling."
Slade stared at him in confusion.
"Cap'n? You're behaving oddly.
Karl took a deep breath.
His new life wasn't just different.
It was dangerous. And. Deadly.
And every answer he needed was hidden inside this demon's heart.
Karl's only thought, after being transferred into Shiro's body, was:
What's going on with the world?
The memories within this new body were fragmented, dark, and steeped in secrets enough for Karl to grasp one thing with clarity:
Something is terribly wrong is happening in this world...
Shiro's mansion was quiet.
With the face of Shiro now on him, Karl walked down the long hall to the hidden room. The door creaked open to reveal the infamous information wall Shiro had built.
Papers torn from ancient books.
Photographs pinned with red markers.
Maps with circles around places Karl had never heard of.
The faces of people Shiro had already killed.
A madman's puzzle… or a genius' warning.
Karl stepped nearer, reading everything again.
"When I asked Slade about the genocide… he knew nothing," muttered Karl. "Even the common people don't know anything."
So there were only two possibilities:
1. The genocide never happened.
2. Someone deleted it from history. Completely.
Karl stared at the wall. "If someone erased a genocide, then. why? Shiori said, Genocide happened for the greater power… but in the last few centuries, the world never faced a threat big enough to justify this level of cover-up." His breath froze.
Could it be him? Veil Da Vorch… Shiro's memories quaked within his body. A face, a voice, a darkness—Shiro knew this man. Personally. And Veil's goals… they were beyond anything human.
Karl's mind was racing. "If no one remembers the genocide… then, how did Shiori know?"
He remembered the sisters. The IO race. Kiyomi Mitaka, Aoimi Mitaka, Riomi Mitaka, Shiori Mitaka, they were All sisters. All from the same extinct race. When Shiori told the story of genocide, she was crying, trembling. And all four punished me the same way the genocider had tortured their people. But the race of IO was already eliminated. So how…?
How come these four are still alive? Why are they the only exceptions? Karl stepped back from the wall, his heart pounded.
Something just wasn't right. Something was concealed. And he had just touched the edge of a truth that could break the world apart. Shiro scanned the whole information wall, all the maps, torn pages, scribbled notes, down to where something caught his eye. A thin, old book page. Its title: "The IO Race." He squatted and picked it up. As he read, his expression changed. His pupils constricted. His breathing stopped. By the time he reached the last line— His eyes widened in complete shock.
He whispered, almost afraid of his own voice: "Miss Shiori… she was from the race God abandoned." His hand trembled. The IO, according to the page, were not a natural race. They were not born. They did not follow the cycle of birth that God created. They were made. Custom-made. Shaped. Made by someone.
Shiro stepped back, the realization slamming into him like a hammer. "That means… Shiori, Kiyomi, Riomi, Aoimi-none of them were ever born. Someone created them." And if they were created… Then they were taught. Then, they were conditioned. Then they were told what to believe. A chill crawled down Shiro's spine. "That guy… he's the one who told them about the genocide. He's the one who fed them about the genocide. He's the one who manipulated them.
The thought echoed louder and louder in his mind. Whoever made the IO sisters… Whoever survived the erased genocide… That person is still out there. And already he had shaped four living weapons.