The Demon’s Menu

If it weren’t for the tense situation on the front line, he would have shot that bastard dead long ago.

Afterwards, Jason’s performance had satisfied the veteran general even more.

Whether it was hanging the corpses of the Sabie Aliens to provoke the enemy, or discovering the hidden Larson.

And now?

The veteran general began to pull up Jason’s profile.

The profile was comprehensive, including photographs, one from his daily life, another with Jason wearing a hockey mask and holding a Broad Blade Cleaver. Underneath the latter photo, it was clearly noted that Jason was a writer accustomed to seeking inspiration in the wind with his mask and cleaver in hand.

Even this veteran general, upon seeing such notes, couldn’t help but be startled.

He then scoffed.

What kind of joke was this?

And to wear a mask and wield a cleaver to seek inspiration?

Nobody would believe it!

However...

"Mastered the secret technique to discern the parasitism and control of the Sabie Aliens, huh?"

"Interesting."

About two seconds after pondering, the old general’s face broke into a meaningful smile.

The next moment, the general granted Cortana a temporary authorization in his own name.

The authorization had only one purpose: to exchange for a Potion with merits.

It was named—

Sparta!

...

’Persevere in Bronze’ maintained its inheritance and traditions for two hundred years.

They did not disregard opulence, yet they remained rigorous and austere.

They feared not death, yet they cherished the weak.

Because they too had grown from the weak.

From the initial ’Sword of Order,’ ’Shield of Guardians,’ and ’Hand of War’ that formed ’Persevere in Bronze,’ relying on such traditions, they attracted a significant portion of people from the Mystical Side. Over two hundred years of inheritance, the original three organizations had already expanded to thirty-three, with the thirty new organizations allowing ’Persevere in Bronze’ to become the most numerous organization on the Mystical Side.

In a ’military camp’ hidden within Cherry City,

Vince was meticulously explaining everything to his instructor.

"Has Larson abandoned his honor?"

The old man, as burly as a bear standing there, expressed an indescribable sadness in his demeanor.

As the instructor of Cherry City’s military camp, just like Vince, Larson was someone he had personally trained.

Even though Larson didn’t have Vince’s Talent, he was extremely hardworking, which filled him with great expectations. He hoped to see Larson become a true warrior.

Who would have thought, it would be betrayal.

Did I cause all this?

The bear-like burly old man began to reflect on himself.

Watching the silent instructor, Vince and those beside him fell into silence as well.

They too were pondering why something like this had happened.

Larson, their former comrade-in-arms.

A comrade-in-arms they could entrust their backs to.

Why would he betray them?

If not for the verified information received and the narration from Vince, they would have never believed it.

While the emotions of these warriors were complex, the old man, as sturdy as a bear, trembled at the waist: he held a horn in his hand, and then a voice rang out—

"Lord Jason has confirmed, Larson was parasitized, controlled, and the betrayal was not of his own volition!"

The voice was urgent, brief.

But, the warriors and Knights, who had just fallen silent, now looked hopefully at the instructor.

"Larson did not betray!"

"To his death, he was still fighting!"

The old man, robust as a bear, let out a long sigh, then stood up and walked outside.

"Instructor Koda?"

Vince and the others were astonished.

"It was Lord Jason who helped Larson regain his honor."

"As Larson’s instructor, I must thank him," the old instructor stated formally.

The young warriors and Knights present all nodded in agreement.

A warrior can die,

But cannot forget honor.

Honor above all.

"Instructor, please convey our gratitude!"

Vince spoke on behalf of the young warriors and Knights.

They did not request to accompany him because they now had a more important goal: to kill more of the Sabie Aliens, for their fallen comrades!

"Very well!"

"Before I return, everyone swing your sword 1000 times!"

After speaking, the old instructor turned and left.

And Vince and the young warriors earnestly drew their long swords and started swinging.

"Swing the sword 2000 times!"

"1000 times is the instructor’s task!"

"Another 1000 times... to send off Larson!"

"To send off Larson!"

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Everyone shouted in unison, and then, in the large space which was outwardly claimed as a gymnasium, the group of young people began to repeatedly swing their swords.

They poured out sweat.

They had a determined look in their eyes.

Stroke after stroke.

Apart from the sound of swinging swords, only the noise of sweat hitting the floor remained.

As before.

Unchanged for two hundred years.

...

Inside an opulent manor, several well-dressed individuals and others donning helmets or having rugged faces congregated together.

Not far from them, an array of peculiar ’people’ were whispering amongst themselves.

There were small, green-skinned creatures,

Slimy and transparent gelatinous beings,

And large horned cattle-faced monsters.

However, what was most arresting were a few ladies sitting on floating broomsticks, wearing tall pointed hats and smiling as they watched everything below.

"Earl Cedric, can you explain why ’Aisass’ would make a move against my apprentice?" a man in armor, his face obscured, asked ominously.

"I will find a way to treat your apprentice,"

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