Failed Possession Chapter-69

## Ch-69.

—

The childhood friend she had once fiercely defended—even enduring the insult of being called a kept man’s sponsor.

No one knew what exactly had happened between them two years ago to make them part ways. But the failures of the Dercia Magic Tower who kept company with Arist used to gossip, half in jest, that Elena’s change must have been because of trouble with that childhood friend.

Maybe she confessed and got rejected? That sort of joke.

Of course, they did not truly believe that was the sole reason Elena had changed. She wouldn’t transform so drastically over something so trivial.

The Tower Master had rejoiced, saying Elena had finally gone mad for magic. The Sixth Circle seniors had also welcomed her transformation.

Naturally, the existence of that man from two years ago faded from everyone’s memory. After all, Elena had lived alone for ten years. The time that man spent in her estate had been barely half a year.

That was why Arist had never imagined Elena would react like this.

What she had pictured was tears—Elena crying openly.

Wasn’t it obvious?

A childhood friend who left two years ago.

The assassin from the Salho Gate who had quit being Elena’s bodyguard and disappeared just months ago.

Now the two of them were together. She didn’t know the details—but they were together.

And Elena was alone.

That alone was enough to let imagination run wild.

Wouldn’t she feel betrayed? Sad? Angry? Wouldn’t she cry?

Arist sincerely hoped Elena would cry. She wanted that insolent, arrogant orphan who openly looked down on her to collapse in tears, crushed by betrayal.

But Elena did not cry.

Whether what she felt was betrayal or something else, Arist could not tell—but the face of Elena standing amid crackling currents was pale as a corpse, terrifying to behold.

“H-hiik.”

The golden glow flickering in her eyes turned toward Arist. Startled, Arist stumbled back.

Strictly speaking, Arist’s only fault was showing Elena the newspaper herself. Even if she hadn’t, news about Yuri and Haryeong would have reached Elena eventually.

But today was particularly sweltering, even for summer. And Elena’s mood had already been ruined by last night’s hangover.

What had the mages in the lounge been talking about before she arrived?

They must have been laughing. That was why they had shut their mouths the moment they saw her.

And why had Arist stepped forward to show her the paper?

—A man?

The word Arist had spat out before throwing the newspaper. That mocking expression.

“…”

She was irritated.

Arist’s frightened face. The other mages shrinking back while watching her. All of them irritated her.

In the end, weren’t they all laughing at her?

Mages of the Tower, yet insignificant creatures. Lacking talent, yet unwilling to put in effort. And the most disgusting of them stood right before her—Arist Benharman.

Perhaps she had once been promising. Now she was worthless.

The only thing of value about her was the name “Benharman”—and even that family was slowly declining.

In the end, Arist and the Benharman family were in the same sinking boat.

“And yet.”

You—*you*—laugh at me?

The currents around Elena intensified, spreading outward from her.

“Stop!”

A sharp shout shook the lounge.

Blue light flashed. In an instant, Lacy Yuzuha, clad in a white coat, stepped in front of Elena.

“It’s forbidden to use attack magic against people inside the Magic Tower. Elena, have you forgotten something so obvious?”

The question, delivered with a stern face, did not receive an immediate reply.

Elena glared at Lacy for a moment, then clicked her tongue softly and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The golden light in her eyes dimmed. She opened her dull blue eyes and bowed her head.

“I’m still immature. My emotions… got out of control.”

Out of control?

Lacy found it absurd—but she did not laugh.

Emotion might have been the spark—but midway through, Elena had clearly targeted Arist and the others with deliberate hostility.

“Elena… are you really okay?”

“I-I’m fine.”

Her head felt as though it would split apart.

But headaches were routine for Elena now, and she did not want to complain to Lacy.

*Ah, my head hurts.*

*Are you okay? Should I make some tea? Or medicine—where did I put it…*

*Don’t make a fuss. For a mage who concentrates every day like me, headaches are normal. The strange ones are the mages who don’t have headaches.*

*If your head hurts, you take medicine. What kind of person boasts about that? Yuri-nim, isn’t it fortunate you chose the path of a martial artist instead of a mage?*

*Haryeong said something similar when I complained about muscle pain.*

*I don’t recall that.*

*Don’t think.*

Elena forced the corners of her stiff mouth upward.

“I’m sorry, Senior. You told me not to come today, to rest.”

There were many things she wanted to say—but she swallowed them with a sigh.

“You don’t need to apologize. Anyway, Elena, since you’ve calmed down, you should head—”

“Telling her to leave is a bit harsh.”

A voice cut in.

Before anyone noticed, Orca was already there.

Wearing a crisp white shirt and tie, Orca smiled and draped an arm around Elena’s shoulders.

“You came here because you didn’t want to stay at the estate, didn’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you should stay here.”

Orca chuckled and patted her shoulder—then the smile vanished from her face.

She had noticed the meal substitute in Elena’s hand.

Rarely frowning, Orca snatched away the dry, tasteless stick.

“A mouth exists to eat good food. If you only eat this sort of thing, you’ll lose your mind.”

“It’s a hassle to prepare…”

“If preparing food is a hassle, move to a place where someone prepares it for you. Alfreon Ascad said he’d provide everything for you—why refuse?”

“I like my estate…”

She meant to say it confidently.

But the words would not come out.

Elena’s lips parted soundlessly before she finally forced out—

“…I like it.”

Anyone could tell it was forced.

“If you dislike the estate Alfreon provides, shall you live with me instead?”

“No.”

“That answer came quickly. Very well. But don’t eat this garbage that barely qualifies as food. Your brain won’t function.”

Clicking her tongue, Orca turned the snack to ash.

Soon after, Elena was practically dragged to Orca’s room at the very top of the Magic Tower.

“Why did Senior Lacy tell me not to come?”

She had followed obediently—but the question remained.

Elena might be Orca’s disciple now, but Lacy had not been pushed aside. She still acted like Orca’s secretary, sometimes even attending when Orca taught Elena.

Elena had never felt uncomfortable about Lacy’s position. If anything, she was grateful. Without Lacy, Elena herself might have been forced to attend to her eccentric master.

“Because we need to talk about your childhood friend.”

Rumors had long circulated that Lacy Yuzuha might be a Possessor—but Orca had never once confirmed it.

There was no reason to.

So even Elena did not know the truth.

“The reason you lost control today—was it because of Orsia’s official statement?”

Elena froze mid-movement as she was about to sit.

She steadied her ragged breathing and lowered herself onto the sofa.

Cold sweat dampened her neck and forehead, strands of hair sticking to her skin. If she cut it short, she wouldn’t feel this discomfort—but Elena would never cut her hair.

“I saw the statement too. The bishop of the Cult of Chaos—apparently a Sixth Circle mage who fled from the Rudella Magic Tower? For multiple Fifth Rank fighters to kill a Sixth Circle mage—that’s impressive.”

“…”

“I already knew your former bodyguard Dark Flower was Fifth Rank. But that brat Yuri reaching Fifth Rank in such a short time—that’s surprising. I’ve long heard of the talent of Possessors, but Yuri’s talent seems to be more than simply being a Possessor.”

“…Yuri isn’t a Possessor.”

Elena forced the words out.

Ever since returning from Lagos two years ago, she had never once admitted Yuri was a Possessor.

If Orca said so, it was merely Orca’s own deduction.

“You’re still clinging to a pointless lie?”

Orca clicked her tongue and loosened her tie.

“No matter how much you deny it, I believe that brat is a Possessor.”

“I told you he’s not—!”

“So what? I’ll think what I like and say what I like. If you don’t want to hear your master speak, you’re free to leave.”

The moment Orca issued the challenge, Elena shot to her feet.

She glared at Orca with blazing eyes—then spun around and headed for the elevator.

“You’re really leaving?”

Amused by her disciple’s reaction, Orca smirked. She did not stop her—instead, she continued speaking.

“That brat may become dangerous.”

Elena’s hand froze just before pressing the elevator button.

Orca smiled again at the predictable reaction.

“Isn’t it obvious? A nobody has begun making a name for himself. And now he even has the Orsia Family as a solid backing. Whether they’ll truly sponsor him is uncertain—but judging from the statement, both the Sword Emperor and the Sword Dragon seem quite taken with him.”

“…”

“The world is full of losers with serpent hearts who grow jealous over nothing. Who knows what fangs they might find to sink into Yuri?”

“What are you trying to say?”

Elena turned back, unable to press the button.

“I mean someone might start spreading baseless suspicions that Yuri could be a Possessor. And then the War Church might move.”

“For something like that—!”

“They’re hounds that sniff out rumors.”

Half true, half false.

The War Church *did* hunt Possessors—but not unconditionally. In fact, few groups used Possessors as effectively as they did.

They primarily targeted those without background—since most Possessors changed their identity entirely. If someone with no traceable past suddenly rose to fame, that was a red flag.

By that standard, Yuri was not an obvious target. He had trained under Fist Wolf. He had two years of steady activity in the black path to account for his growth.

Still, it was true that Yuri now drew attention.

And that alone made it possible the War Church might take interest.

*They won’t move,* Orca thought.

Even if they concluded Yuri was a Possessor, they would not act—not when he had already become an enemy of the Chaos cult.

But Orca had no intention of telling Elena that.

“Someone will start digging into Yuri’s identity—your childhood friend. That’s not difficult. They could begin in Aldor, that rural village. Or in Lutran, where he first drew attention.”

“…”

“If it’s the War Church’s Tu-seong, he’s qualified to request a private audience with me. Or perhaps another faction will contact me. If someone asks about Yuri… I’ll have to consider what I should say.”

Orca watched Elena with a mischievous smile.

Elena stood before the elevator, biting her lip hard.

Orca beckoned lightly.

“Are you going to keep standing there?”

“…Master, you really…!”

“I’m aware I’ve said something nasty. But you weren’t exactly polite either, were you?”

At Orca’s snickering laugh, Elena’s shoulders trembled.

In the end, she turned back and dropped heavily onto the sofa before her master.

“So then—*Yuri* really is a Possessor, isn’t he?”

“No.”

“Very well, let’s say he isn’t. If someone comes to me asking whether Yuri is a Possessor, I’ll answer no as well.”

At that reply, Elena swallowed a sigh of relief. Not just anyone, but Orca Dercia—the renowned Tower Master of Dercia and Heavenly Thunder—was promising to vouch for Yuri.

“I know your mental state is unstable.”

It was sudden. Before Elena could respond in surprise, Orca continued.

“Do you resent him?”

“I…”

“Probably not. You’re confused.”

The curved golden eyes sharpened. The mischievous smile was the same as ever, but her gaze pierced straight through Elena.

“I don’t know exactly what feelings you hold toward him, but they must be complicated. It’s not something that can be defined as mere resentment, hatred, or anger.”

“…”

“That’s why you can’t be honest. Isn’t that right?”

Elena couldn’t answer. Because it was true. For two years, she had thought about it countless times, yet never found the correct answer. Anything could be the answer.

The “real” Yuri she had known since the orphanage, exchanging letters with for ten years.

And the “Possessor” Yuri she reunited with in Aldor, brought to Lutran, and lived with for half a year in her estate.

“Someday, your childhood friend may become entangled in something dangerous.”

Orca tilted her head.

“Possessors are bound to. Even if I vouch that he isn’t one, he may be exposed someday.”

“…”

“And he’s already made himself a target of the Chaos cult by killing one of their bishops. Perhaps we should consider it fortunate he didn’t rely on them—but the fact remains, he’s placed himself in danger. Compared to the Orsia Sword Dragon or the Demonic Cult’s Young Cult Leader… an orphan from Aldor named Yuri would be far easier prey.”

“I… I’ve killed quite a few cultists too.”

“But the ones you killed were all minor. The most accomplished among them was merely a priest. A bishop is on another level entirely.”

Elena lowered her head without replying.

“Why did he turn the cult into his enemy? I don’t know. I’m not him.”

“…”

“Perhaps he wants to return home. It’s well known that if the Evil God is slain, the Goddess of Order’s power will recover—and Possessors can be sent back to their original world.”

Return home?

Go back… home?

Elena’s pupils trembled violently.

*No.*

Amid the dizziness and pounding in her skull, that thought surfaced.

“It’s also widely known that a Possessor who slays the Evil God may make a wish to the Goddess of Order. Well, apparently even non-Possessors can make a wish—but still. Perhaps Yuri is aiming for that wish.”

—A wish.

It was a famous tale. Yet she had never truly contemplated it. The God of Chaos, the Evil God, was far too distant a being.

But now, the word *wish* fell heavily into her chest, sinking deeper and deeper.

*A wish…*

It wasn’t exclusive to Possessors. Anyone who slew the Evil God and awakened the Goddess could make one. No one knew the limits of what the Goddess could grant—but a wish granted by a god would surely defy human common sense.

“Whatever his reason, Yuri will grow more endangered. He may have exceptional talent—but whether he can continue growing stronger is another matter. Most Possessors, relying on ‘talent’ alone, reach their limit at Fifth Rank at best. To go beyond that requires more than a Possessor’s innate gift.”

Mana affinity and comprehension had limits. Effort was mandatory. So was staking one’s life. If one feared failure, danger, and death—and chose only safe paths—one would never break through the wall.

Those who cannot overcome fear may take half a step forward at best. Only those who believe they can conquer fear can surpass the wall.

“That assassin of the Salho Gate. Talented, yes—but as a *bodyguard*, she won’t be able to protect Yuri.”

“What… are you trying to say?”

“What do you think?”

Orca smiled.

“If Yuri finds himself in danger, Elena—could you save him?”

“I…”

“I know better than anyone that you’re a genius. Your potential still lies far from its limit. Fifth Rank—something others must devote a lifetime to reach—is merely a checkpoint for you.”

Her heart pounded thunderously, drowning out the headache.

“If you feel like you’re going mad, then go mad for magic. Don’t rely on alcohol—rely on magic. Every problem that torments you will be resolved if you reach the pinnacle of magic.”

Orca’s words sank like heavy stones into Elena’s chest.

“You simply need to grow strong enough that only *you* can save him. If that happens, he won’t be able to leave you again. Become someone whose mere presence makes it impossible for anyone to threaten Yuri. Do what that assassin never could, Elena.”

“H-how much…?”

Elena’s voice trembled.

“How strong… do I have to become…?”

“As strong as me.”

Orca smiled.

“No. Elena—you can surpass me.”

The master rose from her seat.

“I’ll help you.”

This child was unstable.

Orca Dercia was no fool. She had known of Elena’s instability since bringing her from the orphanage twelve years ago.

In magic, Elena’s talent surpassed even that of Possessors—but she had gained the environment to nurture it far too late.

Aldor Orphanage had been the worst possible place for an immature genius.

Compared to her, the others were monkeys—no, worse than insects—yet they bullied her.

Each time young Elena gradually realized her own talent, she must have wondered:

*What do these insignificant creatures rely on to torment me?*

From the first time Orca met her, Elena had handled mana skillfully. In the orphanage, her displayed “trick” had merely been tossing a ball high into the air—but the amount of mana she possessed was enough to crush ants with ease.

Yet she never did.

She endured repeated bullying and received help each time from her childhood friend—“Yuri.”

Elena possessed an unfilled void.

Orca had known—and left it unaddressed. What the Tower Master desired was not a commonplace genius, but one obsessed with magic to the point of madness.

She gave her the surname Heinderga and adopted her—but she did not offer parental warmth. Instead, she gave her the affection of a Tower Master. Each time Elena learned something new, succeeded in magic, advanced in Rank, completed a thesis.

Her innate deficiency, pressed by the competition within the Tower, molded Elena Heinderga’s personality—deeply infused with emotional deprivation and a hunger for recognition.

Look at her.

Elena Heinderga spent merely half a year with the present “Yuri.” However heavy that half-year bond might seem, it could not truly weigh that much—yet she remained bound to the affection and validation she had once felt. It had already become firewood for madness.

To Orca, Elena as she was now—was deeply lovable. As a daughter. As a disciple.

The Possession that befell her childhood friend had not been Orca’s doing—but the seed Orca had planted twelve years ago had blossomed brilliantly enough to satisfy her.

So Orca’s golden eyes shone as she extended her hand.

“…”

Elena lifted her head and blankly took it.

She had found her answer.

Her head no longer hurt.

—

—

 

“Kuheok…!”

A man in a white short-sleeved shirt with the number 7 emblazoned on his back clutched his chest and dropped to his knees.

Clatter. The iron sphere slipped from his grasp and rolled across the ground.

“A-are you alright?”

A woman who had been tensely attending nearby rushed toward him.

“I-I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine…! Full-Moon Play, what’s wrong? Could it be an injury from earlier? On the battlefield, the Battle Saint and the Martial Zeniths—!”

“They’re strong, sure… but I’m not weak either. I wasn’t injured. Yuno?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s try some noise beat.”

Chuk Shin-do muttered incomprehensible words and sprang to his feet. —Boom, boom! Though they had returned to the safe-zone tent for rest, distant explosions from the battlefield shook the earth.

“Ah…”

After rereading the newspaper in his hand, Chuk Shin-do’s shoulders trembled.

“Hey. Selpione.”

“Yes.”

“There’s someone I really, really want to see—but I can’t. What should I do?”

“…Go see them?”

Selpione tilted her head in confusion. It was the obvious answer.

But Chuk Shin-do shook his head.

“No.”

“Why?”

“He’s doing well on his own.”

He erased the crumpled newspaper and composed his expression. —Whiik! The Demon-Guiding Orb rose from the ground and floated onto the top of his foot.

“He’s doing well. I can’t go and mess it up.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying…”

“Let things happen naturally.”

He had meant to rest—but reading that newspaper sent heat surging through him.

“F-Full-Moon Play! I made bean soup like you asked—at least take a spoonful—”

“What I want isn’t bean soup. It’s soybean stew.”

It lacked that familiar scent.

“Cook it again. With the heart of a mother.”

Selpione’s face twisted—but Chuk Shin-do didn’t see it. Dribbling the Demon-Guiding Orb alone, he charged back toward the battlefield.