Chapter 494
Based on what they’d just watched, Tyler’s performance could have been dropped straight into a sequel to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. No special effects required.
The man responsible, however, seemed to have absolutely no understanding of what he’d done wrong.
"Hell’s Ravager?" Tyler said, looking genuinely offended. "How did they even come up with such a terrible nickname? I think Voidblade would be much better. My homeland isn’t Hell, after all."
"Is that really what you have to say for yourself?"
Evenson slowly rose from his seat.
The amusement was gone from his face.
His eyes had turned cold enough to make the demons in front of him instinctively straighten.
Tyler and the others immediately realized that their master was genuinely angry.
A Warlock had plenty of ways to discipline demons bound to him. Tyler knew that better than most.
Even so, fear wasn’t the dominant emotion on his face.
Confusion was.
"Don’t be so angry," Clea said, tugging gently at Evenson’s sleeve.
"Tyler’s appearance is certainly... questionable, and his methods were admittedly a little bloody, but the people he killed were criminals. Even that reporter thought they deserved what happened to them. Why ruin the mood among your own people over a bunch of scumbags?"
"I don’t care."
Under normal circumstances, if Clea spoke up, Evenson would at least give her some consideration.
Not this time.
"I don’t care how many criminals died. I don’t care how horrible their deaths were."
His gaze swept across his demons.
One by one, they lowered their heads.
Their master was serious.
"Normally, I’m an easygoing person. You have your little hobbies. I don’t interfere. You have your quirks. Sometimes they annoy me, but I can tolerate them."
His voice remained calm.
"That sort of thing is part of life."
He raised one finger.
"But this?"
His finger trembled slightly.
"This crossed my line."
"Tyler."
The demon guard visibly flinched.
Evenson narrowed his eyes.
"How dare you disobey a direct order?"
That was one of the fundamental lines a Warlock could not allow his demons to cross.
A demon guard could be stubborn.
It could talk back.
It could even insult its master.
Those things were annoying, but ultimately harmless.
What mattered was obedience.
When a Warlock gave an order, his demons were expected to follow it.
Most Felguards understood that much. They might complain. They might grumble. They might make it painfully obvious that they hated the order.
But they still did what they were told.
When Evenson had first summoned his demons into this world, he’d given them one clear command:
Do not kill anyone without my permission.
Tyler had violated that command completely.
And that meant he’d crossed Evenson’s absolute boundary.
No Warlock would tolerate a demon deliberately challenging his authority in such a manner.
A demon that did so could face consequences far worse than physical destruction. Its master could destroy its body, torment its soul, and deny it even the chance to return to the Twisting Nether and await resurrection.
After sufficient punishment, the demon could be reduced to little more than magical reagents for its master’s spells.
Tyler, however, didn’t seem frightened by that possibility at all.
If anything, he looked relieved.
"Actually..."
Tyler stared strangely at Evenson.
"Boss, before I did it, I contacted you through the mental link and asked for permission."
Evenson froze.
"What?"
Tyler nodded.
"You gave me permission."
For a moment, Evenson simply stared at him.
Then his anger flared even hotter.
"What nonsense are you talking about? When did you ask me? When did I ever give you permission to do that?"
"Last night."
Tyler tilted his head.
"Or rather, one in the morning. Technically, that was today."
He looked genuinely puzzled.
"That was only a few hours ago. How could you have forgotten already?"
Last night? Today?
Evenson narrowed his eyes.
The bastard was already contradicting himself.
Obviously he was trying to—
He stopped.
One in the morning.
His expression changed.
At one in the morning, he’d been in his room with Clea.
They’d been engaged in a rather... intensive academic discussion.
A discussion that had apparently consumed their attention quite thoroughly.
There hadn’t been anyone trying to contact him through the mental link at the time.
Probably.
...Probably?
"Cough."
Evenson’s anger suddenly became much harder to maintain.
He rubbed his hands together awkwardly before sitting back down.
"You’re just saying that now. There’s no proof."
He cleared his throat.
"And besides, there isn’t exactly a chat history in the mental link, so there’s no way to verify your claim."
He paused.
"So maybe we can just..."
He trailed off.
The more he thought about it, the clearer his memories became.
He’d been about to suggest reducing Tyler’s punishment and quietly putting the entire incident behind them.
Then a voice came from the side.
"Oh, there actually is a chat history."
Sarah, who had been standing there watching the entire exchange, finally decided to intervene.
Tyler nodded.
"That’s right."
He raised a hand and tapped his own forehead.
A mass of green mist emerged from his head.
It floated in the air for a moment before gradually condensing into lines of glowing text.
"What?!"
Evenson’s eyes widened.
"Who invented something that pointless?!"
Sarah folded her arms.
"The Legion has existed for an extraordinarily long time. Is it really surprising that we’ve developed a few strange conveniences?"
She spoke with the calm patience of someone explaining something obvious.
"Before Legion communication devices became widespread, most communication and orders between units were transmitted through mental links."
She paused.
"That worked well enough at first."
"Then, during one particular military defeat, the commander of the operation and the Dreadlord responsible for the battle began blaming each other."
"The Dreadlord claimed he’d created the battle plan and transmitted it to the Abyssal Lord commanding the front lines."
"The Abyssal Lord insisted no such plan had ever been received."
Sarah shrugged.
"Just as you said earlier, there was no way to prove who was telling the truth."
"So Kil’jaeden killed them both."
Evenson’s eyebrows rose.
Sarah continued matter-of-factly.
"Afterward, he developed a spell that could preserve information transmitted through mental links."
"That way, there would be a permanent record."
"I see."
Evenson gritted his teeth.
So that’s why.
Kil’jaeden, you bastard.
He silently cursed the Legion’s former leader with considerably more creativity than the situation deserved.
Then he looked toward the glowing mass of text in Tyler’s hand.
The entire conversation had been preserved.
But it was still only text.
Evenson’s mind immediately began working.
Fine.
So what if there are written records?
I can just deny it.
Who could prove otherwise?
He watched Tyler reach toward the floating text.
Tyler tapped one line.
And Evenson’s own recorded voice immediately rang through the room.
"Stop bothering me. Just handle it yourself."
Silence.
Evenson’s soul left his body.
Clea seemed to remember something at the exact same moment.
Her face instantly turned crimson.
She hurriedly looked away.
Evenson stared at the floating record in horror.
His lips twitched.
His eyes nearly watered.
"Why is it a voice recording?!"
He covered his face.
"Why would anyone make it this advanced?!"