A Regressor's Guide to Hunting in the Academy

Chapter 14

Noon. Bright sunlight slashed through the curtains into the office.

Henrik grimaced at the glare and tugged the drapes until the light behaved.

“......”

“......”

On the little sofa in the center sat Grimory and Amecitia, shoulder to shoulder.

Grimory was the one who had said, “There might be a demon inside the academy,” and Henrik, after a moment’s thought, had brought them here.

She looked around.

Books towered everywhere-alchemy texts, martial-arts manuals, even field guides to plants and animals.

Not what she’d expected.

She’d pictured weapons on the walls and demon heads mounted like trophies; instead the room smelled of dried leaves and reagents, more scholar’s den than hunter’s lair.

“We can talk undisturbed here.”

Henrik set two small cups on the low table and poured coffee for them both.

Grimory bowed her thanks and sipped.

Delicious.

She’d only ever tasted the cheap beans sold in the slums’ market; this aroma was another world.

Amecitia, watching her with cat-wide eyes, copied the sip-and spluttered.

“Bitter! That’s straight-up mud water!”

Henrik calmly stirred sugar into her cup while she stuck out her tongue.

Where does he source these beans?

Grimory shelved the thought.

That wasn’t why they were here.

Demon inside the academy-remember?

Henrik settled opposite them.

“You say there’s a demon in the academy. Why?”

His gaze was sharp; Grimory hesitated, swallowed, then spoke.

“You may not believe me... but since I was small I’ve seen things others can’t.”

Henrik nodded-an invitation to continue.

Amecitia, either unaware or uninterested in the tension, crunched through a plate of cookies.

“The field guide you lent says you need reagent to see the red fog,” Grimory went on, “but... I see it bare-eyed.”

Silence.

Henrik lifted his cup, calm on the surface, reeling underneath.

Seeing demon-trace without aid was a gift born, not made; it marked a natural Hunter.

So that’s why her name vanished after graduation.

She must have chased the fog, hunting answers about her own eyes, until the demons noticed she could see them.

And demons erase threats fast.

Which also means she’s phenomenally good at finding them.

A rough stone, maybe, but worth cutting.

He took out a tiny vial.

“Reagent that makes demon-trace visible. Spray it where fog might linger. You, however, shouldn’t need it-try anyway.”

Grimory scanned the room: nothing.

If not inside...

She crossed to the window and cracked it open.

There it clung-thick red fog smeared across the frame, as if the demon had watched Henrik while he was away.

She misted the reagent like perfume.

The fog condensed, curling into crimson ribbons.

“Remarkable...” Henrik murmured.

Before his own regression he’d acquired sight like this-through ritual, not birth.

Right now he couldn’t see a wisp.

Keep her close and I can do plenty with those eyes.

“Professor, may I touch it?”

At his small nod she slid her hand into the fog.

The mist coiled around her fingers, knitting itself into a solid orb-

Pop!

It burst like a soap bubble and vanished.

“...?!”

“I’ve never been able to hold it before...” she breathed.

“The thing passed through recently,” Henrik said. “It came while I was out.”

Grimory gaped.

He could tell that much from one scrap of fog?

Henrik answered the unasked question.

“If the fog lets you grasp it, the trace is less than a day old. If it slips away, older than twenty-four hours.”

“So I’ve only ever seen old traces...,” Grimory muttered.

Henrik took the cue and added a quick lecture on the red fog.

“If the mist is thin enough for you to see through, it’s low-rank. If it’s opaque, mid-rank. Opaque and almost black, high-rank. And if the black haze carries a red lightning shimmer, you’re looking at Demon King-class.”

“All that from a wisp of fog...,” she breathed.

A single trail can tell hunters everything-strength, age, even identity.

Had Henrik’s eyes awakened during the Sloth Sovereign incident, he might have tracked her alone.

But sovereigns often use their own traces as bait, he reminded himself.

Higher demons erase their footprints altogether; a king can choose to leave none.

That made Grimory’s sight priceless.

Still-ballsy for a low-rank to peek into my office.

Henrik studied the path the fog had taken along the window frame.

The demon had scaled the outer wall, pressed its face to the glass, then slipped away.

So it already knows a hunter’s here.

Nothing’s trickier than a demon that knows it’s being hunted.

Unlike sovereigns who send thought-forms, common demons walk in the flesh-kill them and they stay dead.

“Grimory.”

Henrik’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.

“Your eyes are the real deal; you can see demon traces.”

She shuddered, half thrilled, half horrified.

“Figures. I used to chase these things for fun... crazy, huh?”

“Quite the change from model student to reckless brat.”

“Exactly. I only signed up for demonology because I wanted answers. Every time I followed the fog I heard this creepy giggling.”

“Giggling means imp,” Henrik said.

Grimory gave a queasy laugh.

Amecitia, quiet until now, raised a hand.

“If that’s a demon footprint, then there’s a demon inside the academy?”

Henrik nodded.

“Any rumors floating around lately?”

“Some students aren’t waking up after they fall asleep,” Grimory offered.

Henrik’s eyes narrowed; he already suspected the culprit.

Grimory whipped open her field guide, page after page confirming her hunch.

“You’ve got something,” Henrik said.

“Humor me.”

She tapped a corner illustration.

“I’d bet on a dream demon, sir. High caution, low-rank fog you can see through, and victims trapped in sleep-fits perfectly.”

Henrik gave a single approving nod.

“Bull’s-eye.”

Grimory lit up.

“Then we tell the Dean right-”

She was halfway to the door before Henrik’s silence stopped her.

A low-rank succubus, he mused.

Victims’ condition will confirm it, but the thing’s already on guard.

If it decides to vanish, we’ll lose it.

And I’m the only faculty who knows demons inside out.

An idea flicked across his mind.

Grimory can trace fog; Amecitia just started blade magic.

Send the pair as students, and the demon will see kids, not a threat.

Curiosity or arrogance will make it show.

Forward bait, rear ambush-simple.

He glanced at the wall clock: 3:22.

Faculty meeting at five, plenty of time.

Henrik flashed a thin smile.

“Grimory, Amecitia-gear up. You’re my assistants today.”

“Hm?”

Amecitia looked up, cheeks bulging with cookies.

The entire plate had disappeared.

While they talked, she’d inhaled every last crumb.

“Um... any more cookies?”

“Finish the job and I’ll wrap you a whole box,” Henrik said, tapping the tin.

Fair price for demon bait.