AutumnXd
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Chapter 123: Mixing In
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 17:32:16 +0000 UTCI actually have companions, Russell thought to himself, his mind racing through the implications of that shouted demand. The voice had been rough, irritated, and definitely expecting a response from "Grak." But then again, what normal demon would go to the bathroom in such a remote place?
The question answered itself as he considered the real demon's final moments. The creature's desperate attempt to cry out, that throat-expanding scream that Arrogance had cut short it clearly showed that he had wanted to inform his companions of the intruder. Perhaps Grak had chosen that isolated spot not for privacy, but as a planned lookout position. A sentry who doubled as waste disposal, keeping watch while handling biological necessities.
The irony wasn't lost on him. If the demon had been more cooperative, if it had simply nodded instead of trying to raise an alarm, Russell might have learned valuable intelligence through interrogation. Instead, he was walking blind into a social situation with no script, no background knowledge, and no safety net except his acting skills and Arrogance's adaptability.
After tidying up his now-filthy clothes as much as possible—the fabric reeked of fear-sweat, waste, Russell adjusted the rough-woven pants around his transformed waist. The material scratched against his disguised skin, a constant reminder of his precarious situation. He arranged his features into an expression of pained relief, the kind of look someone might wear after finally finishing some urgent and uncomfortable business.
"Why do you have to run so far to go to the bathroom?" he muttered under his breath, practicing the complaint he'd deliver. The words felt strange in his mouth Arrogance had altered his vocal cords to match Grak's, giving him a slightly nasal tone with an underlying rasp.
Then he hurried toward the source of that demanding voice, his borrowed gait carrying him through the phosphorescent-lit tunnels. His footsteps echoed softly off the rough stone walls, joining a symphony of distant sounds dripping water, murmured conversations, the scrape of movement through connecting passages.
But it was a good thing the demon had run so far, Russell reflected as he navigated a bend in the tunnel. Otherwise, I would have been exposed the moment I broke into this underground space. If Grak had been relieving himself near the main population centers, Russell's violent entry would have been immediately detected. Sometimes luck was just preparation meeting opportunity and sometimes it was pure, random chance.
The tunnel opened into a wider cavern after several minutes of hurried walking. Russell's enhanced vision adjusted automatically to the changing light levels, picking out details that would have been invisible to normal sight. Rough support beams actual wood, somehow preserved in this environment braced sections of the ceiling. Tool marks in the walls suggested this space had been deliberately expanded rather than naturally formed.
Then he saw them: four humanoid creatures clustered around what could generously be called an outpost. All bore the same weasel-like ears as the demon he'd killed, those ragged, fur-covered appendages that twitched at every sound. Their skin shared that mottled gray-green coloration, though with individual variations—one had more pronounced scaling, another showed patches of what looked like old scar tissue.
The outpost itself was barely worthy of the name: a collection of roughly hewn stone blocks arranged to provide some shelter, with a few wooden crates serving as seats and surfaces. Crude but functional, like everything else he'd observed in this underground refuge.
Fortunately, the small cave where Grak had met his end was concealed behind a large mound of excavated earth and loose rock. This outpost couldn't see the situation behind that natural screen clearly, which had protected Russell during his messy infiltration. And besides, the demons in front of him were openly slacking off—one was sprawled across a crate in a way that suggested he'd been napping, another was idly carving something into the stone wall with a bone knife. His previous actions had gone completely unnoticed.
Just as Russell was about to approach with his rehearsed excuse, one of the demons—a sturdy male with broader shoulders than the others—held up a clawed hand in the universal gesture for "stop."
"Stop," the demon commanded, his yellow eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Did you take a shit and throw away all the rules?"
Russell froze in his tracks, his thoughts racing like startled rabbits. Rules? What rules? The real Grak hadn't mentioned any protocols, procedures, or behavioral expectations. Due to his victim's complete lack of cooperation understandable, given the circumstances he was operating completely blind.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Russell could feel the other demons' attention focusing on him . Their expressions were gradually shifting from casual interest to something far less friendly. Suspicion crept into their postures shoulders tensing, hands moving closer to the crude weapons at their belts.
Hidden behind his back, Russell's right hand began its familiar transformation. Black and red spread across his fingers like living ink, Arrogance preparing for violence. If this deception failed, he'd have to kill them all quickly and quietly before they could raise an alarm. Four against one wasn't terrible odds, especially with the element of surprise, but it would complicate his infiltration significantly.
"What's that smell?"
The question came from one of the other demons, whose nose was wrinkling in obvious distaste. Just as Russell was calculating attack vectors and wondering how much noise four dying demons would make, the comment triggered a memory.
The genetic module Arrogance had extracted from Grak moments before his death: [Scent Gland Production]. The symbiote had noted that organisms with these special organs could emit gases with toxins and confusing abilities through their excretion outlets. More importantly, the gas had no effect on organisms with the same organs meaning it was some form of chemical communication or identification system.
Let's give it a try, Russell thought, desperation breeding innovation. If it doesn't work, I'll just kill them all. He looked at the demons in front of him, allowing no emotion to show in his borrowed eyes. The transformation from nervous infiltrator to cold killer took less than a heartbeat.
While maintaining his uncertain expression, he mentally switched to the [Scent Gland Production] module. The change was immediate and profoundly uncomfortable new organs activated in parts of his anatomy he preferred not to think about. A stream of yellow gas gushed out with barely audible sound, and a fishy stench instantly filled the air around him.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The tension drained from the demons' postures . The sturdy male's suspicious expression transformed into something approaching relief, though tinged with mild disgust.
"Why were you so slow?" he demanded, but his tone had shifted from accusatory to merely annoyed. "That's not like you."
I bet right, Russell thought, barely containing his delight at the successful gambit. The scent glands weren't just communication they were identification. A biological password system that confirmed membership in the group. Grak's bathroom break had been taking so long that his companions were starting to wonder if something was wrong, but the familiar scent signature reassured them that he was, indeed, just dealing with digestive issues.
Russell arranged his features into an embarrassed smile, the kind of expression universally understood across species. "My stomach is still a little uncomfortable," he said, letting a note of genuine discomfort creep into his voice. It wasn't hard to fake the scent glands felt distinctly unpleasant to use. "I'm afraid there was something mixed in with what I ate."
When the four demons heard this explanation, their faces underwent a synchronized transformation. Mild disgust became active revulsion as they processed the implications of "something mixed in." They held their breath with the efficiency of people who'd dealt with gastrointestinal emergencies before, quietly shuffling several steps away from Russell while trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.
The leading sturdy male apparently the squad's informal leader developed a noticeable eye twitch. "Just bear with it for a while," he said through gritted teeth, clearly fighting his gag reflex. "It's our Clan's turn to be on duty today. It's time to change shifts soon. It's just our bad luck that Lord Huang sent us to this remote place."
Russell filed away several pieces of crucial intelligence. They were organized into clans. The Huang Clan was currently responsible for this duty rotation. There was a hierarchy with someone called "Lord Huang" giving orders. Most importantly, they were stationed in what they considered a remote, undesirable posting—which meant there were more central, important areas he hadn't seen yet.
The sturdy demon continued his complaint, frustration evident in every word. "If you ask me, I'd just guard the entrance. They're just some creatures from the outside world. Why are they so scared?"
Outside world. So they knew about the broader reality beyond this pocket dimension. And something about "creatures from the outside world" had them frightened enough to post guards in remote locations rather than simply watching main access points.
At that moment, another demon smaller, more nervous-looking—quietly tugged at the corner of the sturdy man's clothes. The gesture was subtle but urgent, a clear warning that carried enough weight to make the larger demon pause mid-rant.
Understanding dawned in the sturdy demon's eyes. He glanced at Russell with what might have been genuine regret before continuing in a more subdued tone. "Oh, I forgot. Grak, your parents died at the hands of those creatures. Sorry, sorry."
The other demons suddenly found the cave walls intensely interesting, their gazes skittering away from Russell with ease. The kind of avoidance that spoke to long experience with awkward social situations involving grief and loss.
Russell felt a flicker of something not quite sympathy, but appreciation. The real Grak had been shaped by tragedy, made into an orphan by conflict with outsiders. It explained his isolated posting, his apparently solitary nature, even his choice to handle personal business in such a remote location. Grief could make people seek solitude.
More practically, this background gave Russell perfect cover for any behavioral inconsistencies. Traumatized orphans were expected to be a bit different, a bit withdrawn, a bit unpredictable. If "Grak" seemed changed after his extended bathroom break, well, grief did strange things to people.
Russell looked at the sincere-seeming sturdy demon with careful consideration. He couldn't tell whether the comment about his parents had been deliberately malicious a casual cruelty designed to remind him of his loss or if the demon was genuinely thick-skinned enough to make such statements without thinking. In his experience, both types existed in roughly equal proportions in any population.
But it didn't matter now. His purpose was infiltration, not justice or revenge for a demon he'd never known. The sturdy demon's words had provided him with invaluable intelligence: his current identity was an unlucky orphan whose parents had both died in conflict with outsiders. The perfect background for someone who might act strangely or ask obvious questions.
He immediately arranged his expression into something approaching magnanimous forgiveness. "It's okay," he said with exactly the right note of quiet sadness. "You didn't mean it."
The sturdy demon opened his mouth probably to offer further apologies or explanations but was interrupted by the arrival of new voices echoing through the tunnel system. Five demons whose appearance was completely different from the weasel-eared group approached the outpost with the purposeful stride of people on official business.
These newcomers had round, furry ears instead of pointed ones, and their skin tone leaned more toward brown than gray-green. Different subspecies, Russell realized, or possibly different clans with distinct genetic markers. The underground society was more complex than he'd initially assumed.
"It's shift change," announced the leader of the new arrivals, a demon with intricate scarification covering his arms. "You can go now."
The sturdy demon Huang Da, Russell had learned didn't waste any time with pleasantries. He gathered Russell and the other two members of their patrol with efficient gestures, leading them away from the outpost through passages that branched and diverged like the arteries of some vast underground organism.
The cave system was far more extensive than Russell had imagined. They passed several other outposts along their route some occupied by more weasel-eared demons, others staffed by the round-eared variety, and one manned by creatures with no visible ears at all. Each position was strategically placed to monitor different approaches or tunnel intersections.
The organization was impressive. Multiple clans, coordinated shifts, overlapping fields of observation. This wasn't a desperate band of refugees huddling in caves it was a functioning underground society with military-level discipline and planning.
The atmosphere among his patrol remained dead silent as they walked. Russell caught glimpses of tension in their postures, the way they avoided looking directly at each other, the careful distance they maintained. Whether this was normal behavior or a result of recent stress, he couldn't tell. Seeing this dynamic, Russell naturally chose not to speak rashly. In his experience, the more you say, the more mistakes you make.
Better to observe, gather intelligence, and let others reveal information through their own conversations. He was still learning the social dynamics of this group, the relationships between individuals, the underlying currents of conflict or cooperation. Silence was his safest strategy until he understood more.
Just as he was cataloging these observations, Huang Da stopped abruptly. What appeared before Russell made him reassess everything he thought he knew about this underground refuge.
A massive metal door dominated the end of the tunnel, its surface gleaming despite the poor lighting. The thing was enormous easily three meters tall and twice as wide, made from some kind of steel alloy that looked distinctly artificial. Intricate magical circles had been etched directly into the metal, their lines filled with what looked like silver inlay that pulsed with barely visible energy.
Fortunately, I didn't try to enter through the main entrance, Russell thought with a mixture of relief and renewed respect for the demons' security measures. With such a large metal door, I would have been exposed as soon as I tried to push it open.
The magical circles weren't just decorative they were functional. Ward systems, probably, designed to detect intruders or unauthorized access attempts. If he'd tried to force entry through the main entrance, alarms would have sounded throughout the entire underground complex. His infiltration would have ended before it began, probably with him facing the entire demon population in open combat.
But it wasn't just the door that caught his attention. Dozens of simple tents had been erected in the area around the entrance, creating what looked like a temporary encampment. Demons of various subspecies moved between the shelters with purpose, some carrying supplies, others engaged in quiet conversations.
Many demons who looked exactly like his current form weasel-eared, gray-green skinned, with Grak's general build and posture were standing in loose formation in front of the great door. They had the disciplined stance of soldiers awaiting orders, though Russell noticed the subtle signs of fatigue and stress in their bearing.
Then he saw the source of their tension.
A middle-aged male demon stood on a raised platform of stacked stone blocks, his presence commanding immediate attention. This one was different from all the others Russell had observed larger, more powerfully built, with an aura of authority that needed no external symbols. When he glanced indifferently at their newly arrived patrol, Russell felt the weight of that gaze like a physical pressure.
"Everyone is here," the middle-aged demon announced, his voice carrying clearly through the cavern space. "Go back to your quarters."
Seeing this commanding figure, Russell's pupils contracted involuntarily. His magical senses, kept at their absolute minimum to avoid detection, still couldn't miss the distinctive energy signature radiating from the platform.
Silver level.
The realization hit him like cold water. He hadn't expected to encounter a silver-level demon so soon after beginning his infiltration. Based on the deference shown by all the other demons, and considering Huang Da's earlier reference to "Lord Huang," this had to be the clan leader himself.
Is this the true strength of this secret realm? Russell wondered, his mind racing through the implications. This was supposedly a pocket dimension where the high-end combat power had been completely destroyed according to official Academy records. Yet here stood clear evidence that significant magical strength remained hidden beneath the surface.
No wonder Senior Brother Felix told me to be careful. The danger level of high-tier secret realms was proving somewhat beyond his original expectations. What other surprises might be waiting deeper in this underground complex?
As his patrol dispersed with the rest of the assembled demons, Russell got his first clear view of the broader underground settlement. Gradually, large areas of simple but well-constructed houses appeared in his field of vision, stretching away into the phosphorescent-lit distance. This wasn't a temporary hiding place it was a permanent community, complete with residential areas, common spaces, and what looked like workshop areas where demons were engaged in various crafts.
The scale was breathtaking. Hundreds of demons called this place home, maybe more. Multiple species, organized into clans, with a functioning government and military structure. They'd created an entire hidden civilization beneath the mountain.
Russell was still processing the scope of what he'd discovered when movement on the main thoroughfare caught his attention. A young male demon and an elderly figure were standing together, engaged in what appeared to be serious conversation. The younger demon had the bearing of a scout or messenger alert, recently traveled, with mud on his boots and tension in his posture.
The elderly demon was harder to read. old even by demon standards, with deeply lined skin and eyes that held the accumulated wisdom of many years. But there was something else about him, a quality that made Russell's instincts prickle with warning.
Lord Huang hurried over upon seeing these two, his previous commanding demeanor shifting to something approaching deference as he approached the elderly figure. The clan leader's body language suggested he was reporting to a superior or at least seeking guidance from someone whose counsel he valued highly.
Russell watched with growing unease as the old demon leaned close to Lord Huang, whispering something directly into his ear. The conversation was brief but intense, lasting only a few seconds before the elderly figure stepped back with what might have been satisfaction.
Then Lord Huang turned, his eyes scanning the dispersing crowd with newfound purpose, until his gaze settled directly on Russell's location.
"Huang Da, come here for a moment."
The words carried clearly across the distance, spoken with the casual authority of someone accustomed to instant obedience. Huang Da—the sturdy demon who'd been leading their patrol—was visibly stunned by the summons. His entire body went rigid with surprise and what looked like barely controlled fear.
After a moment of apparent paralysis, Huang Da walked toward the platform with the measured pace of someone approaching their own execution. Only then did Russell fully understand the significance of what he was witnessing. His patrol leader wasn't just another soldier he was apparently related to the clan leadership, bearing the same family name as Lord Huang himself.
Huang Da. The name suggested either a direct family relationship or member in the primary family line. Which meant his casual comments about guard duty assignments and his complaints about their remote posting took on entirely new significance. He'd been speaking with the familiarity of someone who expected to be heard, even if he disagreed with leadership decisions.
In front of the assembled crowd, Huang Da now stood ramrod straight, every muscle tense with nervous energy. Russell could see sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool underground air.
The elderly demon smiled an expression that somehow managed to be both grandfatherly and deeply unsettling. "Don't be nervous," he said in a voice like rustling leaves. "I just called you here to ask if there was anything unusual in the area you were stationed in today."
Russell's blood turned to ice water in his veins. His infiltration, which had seemed so successful just moments before, was suddenly balanced on a knife's edge. Someone knew something was wrong. The question was how much they knew, and whether Huang Da would provide information that would expose him.
Huang Da considered the question for what felt like an eternity, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. Russell could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he reviewed the day's events. Had he noticed anything suspicious? Any details that didn't quite fit? Russell's late arrival, his unusual bathroom location, his apparent digestive distress?
"No," Huang Da finally said, his voice carefully controlled. "We didn't find anything unusual today."
Relief flooded through Russell's system like warm honey. Huang Da was either genuinely unaware of any problems, or he was protecting his patrol from potential consequences. Either way, Russell's cover remained intact.
However, the next moment shattered that relief like glass hitting stone.
The old demon's smile widened, revealing teeth that were far too sharp for comfort. "Really?" he asked with the tone of someone who already knew the answer to their question. "Then how come the barrier was triggered?"
Russell's world tilted sideways. Barrier? What barrier? When had it been triggered? And more importantly how much did they actually know about his infiltration?
Huang Da's face went through a progression of expressions that would have been comical in any other circumstance. Confusion gave way to dawning horror as he realized that his patrol area had, indeed, experienced some kind of security breach. His carefully constructed report of "nothing unusual" was now revealed as either incompetence or deliberate misdirection.
The elderly demon waited patiently for a response, his old eyes fixed on Huang Da with the intensity of a predator studying prey. Around them, the assembled demons had gone completely silent, sensing the dangerous undercurrents of the conversation.
Russell forced his expression to remain neutral, just another grunt soldier waiting for orders. Inside, his mind was racing through possibilities and contingencies. How much did they know? Had his tunnel excavation triggered some kind of perimeter warning? Was this a fishing expedition, or did they have concrete evidence of infiltration?
If they knew exactly what happened, he reasoned, they would have acted already. The fact that they were asking questions suggested incomplete information. They knew something was wrong, but not necessarily what or who was responsible.
Which meant his cover might still be salvageable if he played this correctly.
The silence stretched like a taut wire. Everyone waited for Huang Da's response, knowing that the wrong words could have consequences far beyond a simple disciplinary action.
Russell prepared himself for whatever came next, Arrogance shifting subtly beneath his borrowed skin. If this situation deteriorated, he'd need to act fast and decisively. The elderly demon radiated power that suggested silver-level capabilities at minimum, possibly higher. Lord Huang was confirmed silver-level. Fighting his way out would be challenging, but not impossible.
But first, he wanted to see how much they actually knew. Information was worth the risk, especially if he could learn more about their security systems and capabilities. The next few moments would determine whether his infiltration continued or whether he'd be fighting for his life against an entire underground city.
The old demon's smile never wavered as he waited for an answer that everyone knew was coming.
End of Chapter 123
Comments
Ritesh Jadhav
I just thought let's just give demons Chinese names as it are words we don't hear regularly
Raphael Espinoza Angulo
1. You've left me in suspense. 2. I'd be honestly surprised if they attacked the MC now. It would save us a bit of a potential infiltration plot, unless they spill some of the world's lore. 3. It's understandable that among so many demons, some have Chinese surnames; their existence is accepted and forgiven. Overall, the protagonist isn't in any real danger, since Artoria could handle her NP, so I think.
