I Became a Murderer in the Academy.

Chapter 95

When I regained consciousness, I was falling into an endless darkness.

It was an unconscious realm surrounded by blackness on all sides—a vast, empty darkness where nothing existed. I walked through it, though it wasn't as if I had any real purpose. It was simply the only thing I could do, so I moved forward as if in a trance.

My mind felt blank. I couldn't remember what had happened before. Surely, I had been curled up somewhere in the back alley, waiting to die.

But this place was neither the back alley nor the afterlife.

It was merely a nightmare. A thick nightmare from which I couldn’t awaken on my own.

"...."

I don’t know how long I walked.

Something finally blocked my way, preventing me from moving forward.

It was a massive mirror. Reflected in it was the changed image of myself since I had fallen into this world.

I hadn’t noticed before, as it was hidden by my clothes, but my body was covered in wounds.

My body was a bloody mess. Most of the injuries were self-inflicted.

I had been stabbed, scorched, and my wrists bore numerous bite marks from fangs.

While my body might not die easily, it was by no means flawless.

Healing these wounds consumed a lot of strength. Once my energy was depleted, I couldn’t heal anymore.

My body was filled with scars that I could no longer regenerate.

Looking at myself like this, I realized just how often I’d stabbed myself. It used to be a beautiful body, but now it was drenched in blood.

I knew how to heal these wounds: by drinking blood. Perhaps my body was designed that way from the beginning.

After all, no living being can keep moving forever without sustenance. Though it was a strange body, it was still just a living creature, not entirely beyond the limits of what I understood.

The cut from the blade stung. But I had no desire to heal. To do so, I would need to harm someone else again.

I didn’t want to survive by drinking someone else’s blood.

I couldn't kill a human. Even though I wasn't one now, I had once been human.

If I just stayed like this, I would eventually reach the peace I so longed for.

Death is frightening, but sometimes life is even more terrifying.

So, I waited.

Waited for everything to end and for my existence to fade from this world.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The wounds on my body in the mirror began to heal. The torn skin closed up, and the blood regenerated. Not only that, but my nearly-dead body began to fill with vitality.

"...How?"

I watched the scene in disbelief.

This shouldn’t have been happening.

I was sure I’d used up all my strength. I had reached the limits where even moving was difficult.

Yet here was my body, regaining its vitality. And I knew there was only one way it could recover.

"That’s... impossible."

It couldn't be.

I hadn’t consumed any humans. I’d been here this whole time.

But was that really true?

I had the eerie feeling that the reflection in the mirror was speaking to me.

The Iria in the mirror looked back at me and spoke.

It told me that I was a murderer, that I’d killed people—a truth too brutal for me to accept.

"That’s... not me."

My body had moved instinctively. I’d lost my memory and consciousness briefly, and when I came to, everything was over.

And perhaps, it’s the same now.

The more humans I killed and the more blood I drank, the further I drifted from humanity.

How many more people would this body kill now that I had lost control again? Overwhelmed by a crushing sense of fear, I slumped to the ground.

I only wanted to escape from this nightmare. I wanted to close my eyes forever, to stop burdening anyone.@@@@

But the nightmare pulled me further into the darkness, tightening its grip as I tried to escape.

I had only wanted to kill the monster, yet it had led to another disaster.

Each time my body killed a human, the sensation was relayed back to me.

A swordswoman at her peak, she cleaved through the sky in a single strike.

Iria's black spikes surged forward, but it was too late. Prea’s swing was faster.

The sharp blade tore through something’s flesh with a piercing sound.

Iria received the first wound from a human.

Though, having consumed hundreds of people, it healed almost immediately.

"...."

Iria’s expression shifted as she was injured.

Sometimes, pain could awaken a slumbering consciousness. A part of her mind returned, even as she struggled to control her power.

Iria slowly looked around, trying to comprehend the situation.

But full comprehension came a little later.

Prea relentlessly swung her sword, disrupting Iria's thoughts.

How could she describe how she felt?

"...."

Annoyed. She thought it was bothersome how close Prea was clinging to her.

Turn your head and see the carnage you've wrought.

She had killed countless humans, burned part of the Empire as a living disaster.

And she had killed the only being that had shown her kindness since she’d fallen into this world.

How did she know?

When the miasma engulfed the area, the memories of those who had died were absorbed into her mind.

It was overwhelming, all those memories mixing together, enough to make her dizzy.

Among them were Riana’s memories.

I could even remember gripping her, sinking my fangs into her neck. The memories came with a splitting headache.

I had killed Riana.

Perhaps I had always known this would happen, which was why I tried to avoid seeing Riana again.

Humans and monsters couldn’t be close. It was bound to happen someday if she didn’t leave my side.

I was sad about Riana's death.

I felt guilt over killing so many humans.

And yet...

"...."

It didn’t make me cry. I wasn’t as sad as I thought I’d be.

Instead, I felt a hollow emptiness inside, as if most of what had been there had disappeared.

That was how it was that day.

‘If only it had rained today.’

I was covered in too much blood.

But there was no rain to wash it away.

In the end, I turned and walked away, feeling filthy.

"Goodnight, Prea."

I left those words for the woman kneeling on the ground, bleeding.

Her body was impaled with black spikes, and she had fallen, so she wouldn’t last much longer.

The place where she had cut off my right arm throbbed with pain.

Even though my body healed quickly, losing a limb was a little harder to recover from.

But it didn’t really matter anymore.

"...."

And so, I walked through the collapsed back alley.

It had become a place where nothing remained, yet it still felt familiar, almost like home.

There wasn’t anywhere else for me to go.

The back alley was quiet that day.

And I had a feeling it would stay quiet for a long time to come.