Aura believed she grasped Ronan Ashbourne, at least somewhat.

Not completely – perhaps that would never be possible – but after spending time with him, she thought she understood fragments of him.

The pattern emerged slowly, but clearly enough after time spent. He displayed sociopathic tendencies, preferred overt manipulation over direct confrontation, and derived amusement from calling her princess just to watch her bristle.

But each time she thought she had him mapped out, he revealed another layer.

And that was clear with the scene in front of her.

Ronan raised his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still carved across his face.

"Stop overreacting, princess."

The nickname annoyed her as always, scraping against her aristocratic pride like nails on a chalkboard.

But instead of igniting her anger, this time the familiar provocation somehow... calmed her. The way he said it carried the same casual mockery he always used, the same rhythm and tone. No hesitation or fear, like he knew she couldn’t hurt her.

Still himself. And he knows the contract is active.

Aura’s demonic energy flickered, then dimmed. Her arm lowered a fraction.

"Explain. Now."

The smirk vanished.

Ronan’s expression shifted so completely that Aura felt her breath catch.

His pitch-black eyes glossed over, losing the amusement – or perhaps the pretense of it – face going deathly serious in a way she had never witnessed before.

Not during the slave market confrontation, not when he manipulated Freya, not even when Class S surrounded them in the forest.

This was different.

"A Demon Leech," he said flatly. "It found me as its host."

The words struck her like a wave of cold water.

"What?"

"I have roughly 395 days until full assimilation." His tone remained detached. "After that, I’ll be a demon. Fully. Permanently. I called you to pick your brain for ideas. Do you know what this thing is?"

Aura’s thoughts whirled violently.

Demon? Ronan?

The concept refused to settle properly in her mind. Ronan Ashbourne was many things – manipulative, dangerous, impossibly knowledgeable – but demon felt like the wrong shape entirely. He was human. Weak, even, physically speaking. His mana core barely reached Tier 1.

Yet demonic energy hummed beneath his skin now, faint but undeniable.

"Demon Leeches usually attach to beasts," she said slowly, forcing her thoughts into order. "Occasionally humans. But they’re typically Rank 1, maybe Rank 2 at most." She paused. "That doesn’t explain what one is doing in the human continent."

"I didn’t invite it." Ronan’s eyes tracked her carefully. "Can you sense it? The corruption?"

Aura studied him properly this time, not just reacting.

She extended her awareness, letting demonic energy brush against him like fingers testing fabric.

"Unless a Demon Leech fully assimilates with its host, no one can detect anything wrong," she said finally. "Your mana feels normal to anyone who doesn’t know what to look for. That doesn’t mean its impossible. Those who are proficient in holy magic will be able to detect the changes."

Relief flickered across his face.

Aura continued.

"It likely won’t be a problem." Her lips curved into a small, dismissive smile. "If you have 400 days before full assimilation, you’ll have more than enough time to reach Rank 2 and dispel the parasite. Once you match or surpass its rank, removal becomes straightforward. I can assist with that."

She didn’t mind helping him with this. It wasn’t hard. And after this war, he would be helping her. That was the deal they had made.

And while Aura was far more powerful than the Ashbourne heir could ever be, she was not arrogant. She was aware Ronan was more intelligent than her. He would fill the gaps where she could not. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Ronan’s expression went blank.

Not thoughtful. Not calculating.

"I won’t be able to surpass the Leech’s rank."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"It’s Rank 3?" That would be extraordinarily rare. Dangerous. But still survivable if he committed everything to advancement. "Ronan, if–"

"Rank 5."

The words landed between them like a dropped blade.

Aura stared at him.

Then she laughed – dry, harsh, disbelieving.

"Your humor is terrible," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "Even for you."

Ronan didn’t laugh.

He didn’t even smile.

The silence stretched until her laugh died completely.

"...How serious are you being?"

"Completely."

Aura felt something cold settle in her chest. A Rank 5 Demon Leech was almost unheard of. The previous host would have needed to be immensely powerful – either a low-tier demon lord or an ancient mana beast that survived centuries. For that kind of parasite to appear in human territory, injured enough to need a new host, then attach itself to someone as weak as Ronan...

What kind of twisted luck is that?

"You’re telling me," she said slowly, "that a Rank 5 parasite chose you as its host? A Tier 1 human mage with barely functional combat ability?"

"Yes."

"That’s impossible."

"Apparently not."

Aura’s mind raced through possibilities. But no matter how much she thought, nothing fit cleanly. Ronan should have died instantly – his body couldn’t possibly contain that level of corruption without collapsing.

Was something assisting him?

Or unless the parasite was that injured. Weakened enough to settle for any viable host rather than waiting for an ideal one.

Her gaze dropped to where his mana core would be, then back to his face.

Her throat tightened.

"Ronan." Her voice came out quieter than intended. "Do you understand what this means?"

"That I can’t reach Rank 5 in 400 days."

"That’s not–" She stopped herself. "You’ll never reach Rank 5 in 400 days. No one could. Not even the prodigies."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I’m aware."

Aura wanted to say something reassuring. Something about fighting it, finding alternatives, researching forbidden methods. But she’d seen what happened to hosts who couldn’t outpace their parasite’s rank. The assimilation finished. The host’s consciousness faded. What remained wore the host’s face but answered to the Leech.

Ronan would become a puppet. A demon puppet.

"You still think I can remove it?" Ronan asked, voice edged with dark amusement.

"No." The word came out harsher than she intended. "Not unless you somehow ascend four full ranks in barely over a year, which would require resources, training, and time that don’t exist."

"Then I’m dead."

"Worse than dead."

"Well. That’s inconvenient."