Halochassis

Shin was lying in his cool, dark room, half-buried beneath thin blankets that had long since twisted around his legs during the night. The curtains were drawn shut, allowing only a faint gray line of dawn to leak through the edges of the window. The air was cold enough to raise goosebumps on bare skin, yet his body refused to calm down. Sweat drenched his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt. His breathing came in uneven waves, shallow and strained, while his head turned restlessly against the pillow over and over as if he were trying to escape something lurking inside his own mind.

The silence of the room should have been comforting. Instead, it only amplified the horrors trapped in his sleep.

He was dreaming— No, not dreaming. Reliving.

Fragments of memories flashed violently in his head like shattered pieces of glass. His best friend’s body being pierced by a flying dragon lance. The wet sound of metal tearing through flesh echoed again and again inside his skull. Blood sprayed across the battlefield in crimson arcs while Emmanuel’s eyes widened in shock before the light inside them faded.

Then the scene shifted.

The Iron Bandits screamed as adventurers cut them down mercilessly. Shin could still hear the ugly crunch of bones breaking beneath heavy weapons. He remembered the smell of blood mixing with mud and smoke. He remembered the desperate cries of men begging for mercy before blades silenced them forever. Bodies fell one after another like slaughtered livestock tossed aside by uncaring hands.

And then came the worst memory.

His own. He remembered his fist crashing through an adventurer’s skull. The sensation returned with horrifying clarity. Flesh splitting apart. Bone cracking like shattered pottery. Warm blood splattering across his arm and face. Even inside the nightmare, he could feel the sticky heat coating his fingers.

For every image his mind created, there was always one thing that remained constant.

His hands. Covered in blood.

It no longer mattered whose blood it was. Friend. Enemy. Stranger. Innocent. Guilty. The distinction had begun to disappear inside his head. Every death eventually blended together into one endless crimson stain that refused to wash away.

The nightmare twisted again.

Suddenly, Shin found himself standing inside a massive cathedral.

The silence there felt unnatural, suffocating. Moonlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor in faded colors of blue, red, and gold. Long rows of empty pews stretched endlessly into darkness. The scent of old incense lingered in the cold air while distant candle flames flickered weakly like dying stars.

A priest stood before him at the altar. Motionless. Watching.

Shin lowered his gaze and saw a pistol in his hand. His fingers tightened around the grip without command, as though another force had taken control of his body. The priest did not run. Did not speak. He merely stared at Shin with calm, sorrowful eyes.

Shin slowly raised the gun.

“No…” he tried to whisper, but no sound came out.

The barrel pointed directly at the priest’s chest.

Without reason. Without purpose. Without hatred. His finger pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The deafening gunshot exploded throughout the cathedral like thunder.

“Gah!”

Shin violently jolted awake from his slumber, gasping for air as if he had nearly drowned. His chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat poured endlessly from his skin, drenching the bedsheets beneath him. For several seconds, he could not tell what was real and what was not.

The room spun around him.

His trembling hand immediately wiped the sweat from his cheeks, but the nausea clawing at his stomach only worsened. A burning sensation crawled up his throat.

“Urgh—!”

He stumbled out of bed and nearly tripped before reaching the sink. The moment he leaned over it, vomit burst from his mouth violently. Bitter acid burned his throat and nose while strands of saliva dangled from his lips. He gripped the sink tightly as his body convulsed again and again.

After several painful moments, the vomiting finally stopped.

Only the sound of dripping water and Shin’s ragged breathing remained.

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face repeatedly. The freezing sensation helped clear his mind slightly, though his hands still shook uncontrollably.

Without wasting time, he opened the small first aid box resting near the sink. Inside were several packs of HP UP tablets—expensive medication meant to replenish vitality and stamina. His fingers quickly tore one packet open before he swallowed two tablets dry.

The bitter chemical taste lingered on his tongue.

Shin leaned weakly against the wall.

He had read the reports carefully before. The Halochassis consumed life force as fuel. Every battle, every activation, every strain placed upon the armor slowly devoured the user from the inside. At first, he thought the side effects would only be physical exhaustion.

But now…

Now he could feel something else happening to him.

Something deeper.

“That’s the third time this week…” he muttered quietly to himself.

His black hair now carried visible strands of white spreading near the front like creeping frost. His crimson purple eyes had lost much of their former sharpness, dulled by fatigue and sleepless nights. His pale skin looked sickly beneath the weak bathroom light, and heavy dark eyebags rested beneath his eyes like bruises carved into his face.

For a long moment, Shin simply stared at himself. The person in the mirror looked less like a young scholar… And more like a man being slowly consumed alive.

It had been a week since the battle at the Iron Bandits’ hideout, yet the fear still clung to Shin like a shadow that refused to leave. No matter how hard he tried to bury the memories beneath routine and silence, they always returned during the quietest moments. Sometimes it came as sudden flashes of blood and screaming. Other times it arrived as a suffocating heaviness in his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

The battle had scarred him in more ways than one.

It was not only the violence. Not only the killing.

It was the realization that he had become capable of such brutality.

Ever since that day, Shin constantly felt as though invisible eyes were watching him from the darkness. Every loud noise made his shoulders tense. Every glimpse of armored adventurers on the streets made his heartbeat quicken. Sleep had become a battlefield of its own, and waking up no longer felt comforting.

Still, he forced himself to continue living normally.

Because if he stopped moving, stopped distracting himself, then the memories would completely swallow him whole.

The faint light of sunrise had only begun creeping over the horizon when Shin decided to start his day early. Pale orange rays slipped through the city’s rooftops while the cold morning breeze drifted through the narrow streets of Luminous City. The world still felt quiet and sleepy, with only a few merchants preparing their stalls for the day.

Shin took a long shower first.

Cold water cascaded over his body, washing away the sweat from his nightmares, though it could not wash away the exhaustion lingering deep inside him. Steam slowly filled the small bathroom while droplets slid down his pale skin. He stood there longer than necessary, staring blankly at the tiled wall as the sound of flowing water drowned out his thoughts.

After drying himself, he put on his scholar uniform carefully.

The dark coat and neatly pressed clothes gave him a sense of structure—something stable to hold onto amidst the chaos inside his mind. He adjusted the collar, fixed the sleeves, and combed his black hair back, though the growing white strands remained painfully visible.

Soon afterward, Shin stepped outside.

The crisp morning air greeted him immediately. The streets smelled faintly of wet stone, chimney smoke, and freshly baked bread from the nearby establishments beginning their business for the day. A horse carriage rattled through the distance while birds chirped softly atop old rooftops.

As he walked down the cobbled streets, he stopped by a local bakeshop.

Warm golden light spilled from its windows, and the comforting aroma of baked dough and melted butter wrapped around him the moment he entered. The elderly baker behind the counter greeted him with a sleepy smile while trays of bread cooled nearby.

Shin bought a long baguette along with a small bottle of honey butter.

The bread was still warm when the baker handed it to him, its crust crisp and fragrant beneath his fingers. For a brief moment, the simple warmth grounded him back to reality.

Then he continued toward the Librarium.

The Librarium was the largest archive in all of Luminous City, a towering sanctuary dedicated to preserving knowledge from countless generations. Several branches of the archive existed throughout the Empire of Empyrea, though the grandest and most prestigious one stood proudly in the imperial capital itself.

True to its name, the Librarium was a place where knowledge from nearly every field imaginable was stored.

Ancient tomes. Historical records. Spellbooks. Alchemical formulas. Maps. Philosophical essays. Medical journals. Even forbidden manuscripts hidden deep within restricted sections.

The massive building itself resembled a cathedral more than a library. Towering marble pillars supported high ceilings covered in intricate carvings, while stained-glass windows allowed beams of colorful morning light to shine across endless rows of bookshelves. The scent of old parchment, ink, leather bindings, and candle wax permanently lingered in the air.

Most days, the Librarium was filled with mages and witches searching for grimoires and magical tomes. Some spent entire days buried in research regarding forgotten spells or ancient rituals. Occasionally, magic knights would visit as well, looking through combat records or spell notes in hopes of learning new techniques for battle.

As for ordinary scholars like Shin, the Librarium served as a priceless reservoir of knowledge for academics, engineering, medicine, and alchemy—information that could improve everyday life or advance one’s career.

When Shin entered the archive that morning, the atmosphere remained unusually calm due to the early hour. Only the soft scratching of quills and the distant turning of pages disturbed the silence.

He walked toward his assigned workspace and immediately frowned.

Piles upon piles of old books awaited him.

Many of them were ancient copies damaged by age, moisture, and worst of all—termites. Some pages were partially eaten away while tiny holes infested the covers. The dusty smell alone made him grimace.

His job for the day involved scribing and duplicating the deteriorating texts before they became unreadable forever.

“Disgusting…” Shin muttered quietly under his breath.

Not wanting to deal with the infested books immediately, he moved toward a vacant table near one of the windows instead. Morning sunlight gently illuminated the polished wooden surface as he sat down and unpacked his breakfast.

The baguette crackled softly when he tore it apart. He spread honey butter across the warm bread, watching it slowly melt into the surface. The sweet buttery aroma rose pleasantly into the air.

For a few peaceful minutes, Shin simply ate in silence.

The crunchy bread and sweet butter provided a small comfort amidst the heaviness clouding his mind.

After finishing breakfast, his gaze drifted toward the nearby newspaper rack.

Fresh copies had just been stocked for today’s issue.

Curious, Shin stood up and grabbed one newspaper casually.

But the moment he saw the headline—

His entire body froze.

27 Adventurers Killed, 63 Injured During the Raid in the Iron Bandits’ Camp! Witnesses Say It Was Done by the Long Lost Demon Prince!

Shin’s heartbeat immediately skipped.

The paper crumpled slightly beneath his tightening grip.

A cold sensation crawled slowly down his spine as the sounds of the Librarium seemed to fade into the background. Even the faint scent of ink and parchment suddenly felt suffocating.

His crimson purple eyes remained locked onto the headline. The words felt heavier than iron.

Shin almost laughed after reading the article.

The bold headline looked so dramatic that it felt more like the opening of a fantasy novel than actual journalism. The newspapers of Luminous City were notorious for exaggerating stories just to attract attention and increase sales. Every week there was always some ridiculous rumor splashed across the front page—lost relics, cursed forests, mysterious monsters, secret royal scandals.

Now apparently there was a “Demon Prince.”

“Hah…” Shin let out a quiet, dry chuckle beneath his breath.

Still…

As amusing as the title sounded, a part of him could not completely deny it either.

During the battle in the Iron Bandits’ hideout, he truly had looked like something monstrous. He remembered the terrified expressions of the adventurers as the Halochassis tore through their ranks. He remembered blood splattering across the battlefield while bodies collapsed around him.

And worst of all—

He remembered how natural it felt in the moment. The thought made the faint amusement on his face slowly disappear.

“Good morning, Shin.”

The familiar voice snapped him away from his thoughts.

Shin looked up and saw one of his fellow scholars approaching his table. It was Phyrion, a slim young man with messy brown hair and purple eyes. His scholar uniform looked slightly wrinkled as usual, and he carried several rolled parchments tucked beneath one arm. There was always a nervous energy around him, like someone constantly trying to survive the pressures of academic life.

“Oh, good morning, Phyrion,” Shin replied with a small smile, folding the newspaper neatly. “How’s your conference with Professor Wardenorth?”

The moment the professor’s name was mentioned, Phyrion visibly winced.

“It’s bad,” he groaned dramatically. “I got yelled at several times. Haha…”

He laughed weakly afterward, though the forced smile and defeated tone in his voice made it obvious that the experience had crushed his spirit.

Shin snorted in amusement.

“Welp, get good.”

“Hah! Easy for you to say,” Phyrion complained while dropping into the chair across from him. “You’re practically one of the professor’s favorites.”

“That’s because I actually finish my work.”

“Nerd.”

The two shared a brief laugh, and for a moment, the atmosphere felt normal again. The sounds of pages turning, distant footsteps, and scratching quills filled the Librarium peacefully while soft morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows.

Then Phyrion suddenly leaned closer.

His expression brightened with curiosity and mischief.

“Oh, by the way, Shin.”

“Hm?”

Phyrion pushed his face forward slightly and lowered his voice into a whisper.

“I heard you’re being sought by VIPs.”

Shin blinked.

“VIPs? Who?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Phyrion replied, glancing around cautiously before continuing. “But there’s an assembly of police soldiers downstairs. A lot of them. They were asking for you specifically.”

The moment those words left Phyrion’s mouth, Shin felt his stomach tighten.

“Weird…” he muttered quietly.

But inside, alarm bells were already screaming. A cold bead of sweat slowly crawled down his cheek.

Police soldiers?

Looking for him?

His mind immediately spiraled toward the worst possible conclusion.

Did someone survive the battle and identify him?

Did the adventurers trace him somehow?

Shin tried to maintain a calm expression, but his heartbeat had already begun pounding heavily inside his chest. The sounds of the Librarium suddenly felt distant and muffled again, drowned beneath the rising noise of panic inside his head.

Almost unconsciously, his gaze shifted toward his desk nearby.

Resting on top of the pile of old books was a black glove embedded with a crimson gem.

The Halochassis glove.

Even while inactive, the object seemed unnaturally ominous. The crimson gem reflected the morning light faintly, glowing like the eye of some sleeping beast. Surrounded by dusty books and parchment, it looked horribly out of place.

Shin stared at it silently.

His fingers twitched slightly.

Do they know about the Halochassis?

The question echoed through his mind over and over.

“Shin! Shiiiiin!”

Phyrion’s panicked whisper cut through the noise of Shin’s thoughts. The brown-haired scholar waved both hands frantically, trying not to attract attention while simultaneously failing at it.

When Shin turned toward him, he immediately noticed two figures approaching from between the towering bookshelves.

And the moment he recognized one of them—

His blood ran cold.

The first person was unfamiliar to him.

She was a short young woman with short brown hair tucked neatly beneath a dark fedora. Sharp hazelnut eyes observed the surroundings carefully, constantly moving as though analyzing every detail around her. She wore a long brown trench coat over formal attire, giving her the appearance of an experienced investigator straight out of a detective novel. Leather gloves covered her hands, and a small notebook rested beneath one arm.

Even the way she walked felt calculated. Professional. Dangerous.

Shin instantly identified her as someone affiliated with the police soldiers.

But the second figure…

The second figure made the entire atmosphere of the room feel heavier.

She was an elf. Long golden blonde hair flowed elegantly down her back like strands of silk touched by sunlight. Her emerald green eyes gleamed with an almost supernatural beauty, sharp yet calm at the same time. Even beneath the modest blue-and-red attire she wore, her graceful figure and alluring body were impossible to ignore.

Every movement she made carried elegance. Confidence. Power.

Several scholars inside the Librarium had already begun secretly glancing toward her in awe and disbelief. Some whispered among themselves while others simply stared, completely captivated by her presence.

Because standing there before Shin—

Was one of the legendary Heroes themselves.

The savior of the world.

The Untouchable Windwalker.

Lireina Ashford.

Shin felt his stomach drop instantly.

“Fuck,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Of all people…

Why her?

His pulse began pounding violently inside his chest as countless terrible possibilities raced through his mind. He forced himself to remain seated, though every instinct screamed at him to grab the Halochassis glove and run.

The short investigator woman stepped forward first.

“Good morning, Mister. You are Shin Rebellium, right?”

Her voice sounded polite and professional, but Shin could sense the scrutiny hiding beneath her calm tone.

Shin answered with a silent nod.

The investigator and Lireina exchanged a brief glance afterward.

Then both of them nodded subtly toward each other.

To Shin’s horror, Lireina wore a small smile on her beautiful face.

Not hostile. Not angry. But somehow that only made things worse.

The investigator calmly reached into her coat and presented a metallic badge engraved with the insignia of the Bureau of Investigations. The polished emblem reflected the morning light sharply.

“My name is Detective Croft,” she introduced herself. “I am here to assist with Lady Lireina Ashford’s investigations.”

The detective tilted her head slightly.

“Is it alright if we have a word with you?”

The moment those words reached him, Shin felt the entire Librarium become suffocatingly small.