Transmigrating as an Extra, But the Heroine Has Regressed?!
Chapter 67: A small hint about the Demon Organization!

Chapter 67: A small hint about the Demon Organization!

Elysia at Home – Her Room

Elysia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes full of frustration.

"I wish he would just die already!" she muttered angrily, staring at the wall. "Why would anyone even try to help him? ..."

She had barely left her room in the past two days. The silence in the house only made her thoughts louder. She lay down again, staring up at the ceiling, her mind filled with images of him.

Her mother knocked on the door and opened it slightly, voice worried.

"Elysia, come down, dinner is ready?"

Elysia didn’t answer. Her heart was burning with hatred and conflict. She couldn’t get him out of her head.

(He’s weak now... injured. This might be my only chance.)

Her eyes narrowed coldly.

(If I don’t do it now, I might never get another shot. I should kill him... while he’s still in this state.)

At the Academy.

Interrogation!

Three assassins knelt on the cold floor. Heavy chains bound their wrists and ankles, glowing faintly with suppression runes. Their heads were bowed, faces bruised and bloodied.

Behind them stood two stern academy guards armed and alert.

At the other end of the room stood the principal of Arcadia Academy.

Beside him stood five professors.

The air was silent, broken only by the shallow, shaky breaths of the assassins.

The principal stepped forward.

"You will not escape alive unless you tell us the truth," he said in a threatening voice.

"Speak. Now."

One of the assassins, a man with a deep scar across his neck, slowly raised his head. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

He let out a tired breath but remained silent.

Then one of the professors leaned forward. Professor Treneth stepped forward slowly. With calm hands, he reached into the folds of her robe and pulled out a small leather pouch.

He placed it on the table in front of the assassins.

Clink.

The sound echoed faintly as the pouch hit the hard wooden surface. It was slightly open, just enough for the golden shimmer inside to be seen. Dozens of gold coins were packed tightly within, catching the light of the lanterns and gleaming like treasure.

Everyone’s eyes flicked toward the pouch—even the assassins’.

The youngest of the three, whose face was pale and scratched, stared at the coins for a second too long.

Professor Treneth crossed his arms and looked at them seriously. There was a hint of urgency behind it.

"We’ll pay you double," he said. "This is only a part of what you’ll receive if you talk. Names. Locations. Orders. Anything. Just help us understand what you’re involved in."

He leaned slightly forward. "Tell us the truth, and I promise—your life won’t be meaningless. You can help stop more blood from being spilled."

The room fell silent again.

The gold at there, untouched.

The assassins glanced at one another. A long pause followed.

The old man with the scar on his neck kept his gaze down. The one with the hollow eyes closed them completely, as if trying to shut the world out.

And the youngest? He bit his lip, his eyes flickering between the pouch and the professors. His lips parted slightly... but no words came out.

They remained still. No answer.

Then finally, the youngest of the three, barely older than the academy students, whispered,

"You... you don’t understand..."

The guards glanced at each other, and Aldric gave a subtle nod, signaling them to let the assassin speak freely.

His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"We... we didn’t want to be part of this," he said, his wide eyes flicking between the professors.

"We are just pawns."

The room stayed silent. No one interrupted. Even the head of the Department remained still, watching him like a hawk.

"We were told what to do, and we did it. That’s all." The assassin’s hands clenched into fists.

"But the real power... it’s not with us. It’s something else. Something big. Something far beyond your imagination."

His voice cracked slightly. "Even we don’t know everything. Most of it is kept hidden from us. We only follow the orders they give."

Professor Treneth leaned forward from his chair and his eyes were intense and focused.

"Who gives those orders?" .

The assassin slowly shook his head. "We never see them. We don’t even know their names. We only heard whispers."

"What kind of whispers?" The professor asked quickly.

"Did they ever mention a leader? A location?"

The assassin nodded slowly. "They call themselves... the Demon Organization."

Gasps echoed faintly from some of the professors. Even the more seasoned ones exchanged glances.

Professor Treneth frowned. "That name hasn’t been heard in years..."

The assassin’s voice grew more strained. "They’re not a myth. They’re real. They have people everywhere. Cities, guilds, even... even some noble houses."

Professor Barlowe slammed a hand on the table, making the pouch of gold jump.

"Nonsense! That’s just a rumor used to scare students into behaving."

But the principal said, "Let him finish."

"We were warned... never to speak their name. They don’t show their faces. They don’t need to. When they want something done, it happens. When someone disobeys... they disappear."

The middle assassin, who had been silent the entire time, spoke now in a gravelly voice.

"They call the leader the Demon Lord. No one knows who or what he is. Only that those who meet him... don’t live to speak of it."

The professor narrowed his eyes. "Then how do you know he exists?"

"Because we heard the rumors," the young assassin whispered.

There was a long pause.

Then continued..... "They were summoning something. A creature. A shadow beast. But we fled before we could see it."

Head of the department turned to his fellow professors. "This is worse than we thought."

But just as the assassin opened his mouth again—perhaps to reveal more—something strange happened.

Principal Aldric, (Killing those assassins is useless unless we finds out who the hell is Demon Lord).

Then one of the professors!

His face twisted.

His eyes widened in horror.

He reached toward his throat, gasping. (No—wait—!)"

Then, suddenly, he screamed.