"What the hell!"
Watching Lorenzo being reduced to a pile of bones in just a few minutes, Moen felt his scalp tighten with an explosive numbness.
Something was wrong—time to bolt!
Without any hesitation, Moen turned and ran.
But at that moment, he heard a heartbeat, heavy and thunderous like the pounding of war drums.
The monster wasn't physically imposing—just tall and lanky. It was hard to imagine such a sound, like the heartbeat of a monstrous beast, coming from that body.
And precisely because of that, it seemed all the more wrong.
Think about it—what would happen if you installed a Lamborghini engine into a Toyota minivan?
It would take off like a rocket!
With a sudden *boom*, the flagstone ground under the monster’s feet exploded!
The monster’s thin, lanky figure shot toward Moen like an arrow released from a bowstring.
He was really flying, skimming the ground!
“Damn it!”
Moen cursed under his breath, twisting his body nimbly. Shadow Step activated, allowing him to sidestep several meters with sheer force.
But the sense of impending doom in his mind did not fade. The monster didn’t slow—it was lunging directly at... Moen’s shadow!
A shiver ran down Moen’s spine, like countless icy daggers stabbing into his back.
The gruesome image of Lorenzo’s fate still spun inside his head. Without the slightest hesitation, Moen turned once more, spinning on his heel. Crossing the twin blades in his hands, he chose to meet the monster's attack head-on!
*Boom!*
The ground shattered immediately into a web of cracks.
Moen’s legs bent under the immense pressure, every muscle in his body straining. It felt as though he weren’t resisting the attack of a mere monster, but the weight of an entire mountain!
“Shit… this is insane… With power like this, what the hell are you doing in the Lower City District?”
Under the enormous strain, Moen’s face twisted with pain and discomfort. He forced his eyes as wide open as possible, trying to discern what kind of entity this monster belonged to. But through the blood-red, fleshy mask, all he saw was endless dead stillness.
No joy.
No sorrow.
It was like looking into the eyes of a corpse.
Yet from that swamp-like dead gaze, Moen could see a ravenous hunger for living flesh and blood.
“Cultist?”
Suddenly, Moen understood what the hell Lorenzo had meant when he yelled about “the Lord.”
Who else but a brainwashed lunatic duped by some heretical cult would go around chanting about "the Lord" all day?
“Who do you worship? God of Love? The Moon? Wither?”
The monster didn’t respond.
Of course not—whether it was a deluded fanatic or someone outright corrupted by a dark god, their brains were always broken. How likely was it that they’d just casually answer such questions?
“Get the hell—away—from me!”
Faced with the monster's ever-increasing pressure, Moen bellowed in rage. The veins bulged on the backs of his hands as he clenched Elizabeth tighter. Though his arms didn’t make any overt moves, a reverberating shockwave suddenly rang out.
Then, from the crossed short blades came an explosive surge of force!
Thunder Revamped—no bare hands needed!
The mighty impact caused the monster to stagger backward, its every step leaving clear imprints on the stone slab floor. After three steps, it finally steadied itself.
What... *is* this thing?
Moen’s eyelid twitched.
This close, the monster had taken the full brunt of his Thunder Revamped attack—yet it had only been pushed back three steps?
Moen had thought his Mercury Well–strengthened body was sufficiently powerful. But compared to this freak, it still seemed inadequate!
Too bad he couldn’t just use the King of Wither’s flames to burn the thing to a crisp. While the crimson flames wouldn’t leak any aura within his domain, leaving any traces behind would be an absolute giveaway.
Using that kind of power in Belland was still way too risky. For now, it was just a hidden ace he could use as a last-resort healing factor.
Since he couldn’t win the fight, the only option left was to run.
But…
Moen’s peripheral vision swept the surroundings. The empty streets were illuminated by a moon that stretched his shadow long and thin.
Sure, he could run—but the shadow?
The premonition of death began to hum once more.
Coming out of its brief stagger, the monster regained its motion. It gripped its bloodstained butcher’s blade and charged straight at Moen again.
Too close. Too big a target.
Nowhere to escape!
“Goddammit, you think I’m scared of you?”
Realizing that running wasn’t an option, and already in a foul mood, Moen’s simmering anger flared into a full-blown inferno. Planting his feet firmly into the ground, he sheathed Elizabeth and turned around—barehanded and charging straight toward the monster.
“Take my ultimate technique! Infinite Holy Light Heaven and Hell Extremity Demon Palm!”
Moen’s sudden surge of defiance and the ridiculous thunder in his roar made the monster hesitate. The butcher's blade shifted from an offensive stance to a defensive pose.
And at that exact moment, Moen launched his so-called ultimate attack. From the palm of his outstretched hand came... an infinite burst of radiant light!
As if!
What "Infinite Holy Light Heaven and Hell Extremity Demon Palm"? Take this, you idiot—it’s a max-output Lightning Spell!
Blinding light descended, turning the entire street into something as bright as day.
Every shadow vanished, driven away in that fleeting moment.
The monster let out an ear-piercing wail. More than any direct incapacitation, the adaptation of its night-attuned vision was undone by the sheer brilliance of the light, leaving it momentarily blinded.
The creature flew into a manic frenzy, swinging its blade wildly and crashing through walls like an enraged bull.
But when the light faded and its sight returned, the desolation of the street revealed one undeniable fact—there was no one left.
He’d escaped?
“No... not delicious…”
The monster pulled a twisted shadow from within its black raincoat and chewed on it.
“Not tasty… not tasty… not tasty…”
Under the moonlight, it wandered off in a particular direction, without an inkling of doubt.
…
…
“Goddammit. A cultist monster this powerful is just casually strutting down the street, and the Empire’s Silencers are all just sitting around twiddling their thumbs?”
In a dark alley, Moen slammed his fist against the wall, unable to hold back his frustration.
What a mess!
First gangsters, now cultists—and on top of that, innocent people had died because of him. Was he nothing but a magnet for catastrophe?
“No, maybe this is just that saying playing out.”
Slumping against the wall, Moen sat down, tilting his head back to gaze at the full moon.
“As they say, the gifts of fate always come with a hidden price tag, especially for someone like me—someone fate itself seems to despise. Just a lousy, blonde villain character, huh?”
From now on, Moen Campbell, you have to tread much more carefully. Anyone else can afford to be reckless. Anyone else can afford moments of arrogance. But you… you can’t.
“Just get out of here first.”
With that resolution, Moen pushed himself up, leaning on the wall for support, and prepared to leave.
But then… he heard it again. The heartbeat.
“What?”
Raising his head in alarm, he spotted a familiar silhouette emerging once more from the shadows not far away. It was closing in.
“Goddammit, how did he track me?”
Could it be like with Lorenzo earlier? Did he use some sort of marking magic?
Moen swiftly drew Elizabeth and tapped it against himself. Small arcs of lightning scattered across his body as he purified any potential trace markers. Then he dashed into the deeper shadows of the alley.
The monster passed the first intersection without hesitation, continuing forward.
The monster passed the second intersection, still without hesitation, continuing forward.
The monster passed the third—and once again—still went straight.
“Why?”
Hidden in the shadows, Moen’s eyes widened in disbelief. It almost seemed like the monster could lock onto his exact position.
What to do? What to do? If it latched onto him again, escaping would be much harder…
As Moen’s thoughts spiraled in a frenzy, a quiet sigh suddenly broke the solitude of the dark alley.
“Ah, I really just can’t leave you alone, can I?”
A pale arm extended from the shadows, covering Moen’s mouth. A cool breath carried a faint scent as it whispered against his ear.
“Don’t move.”
And then, he was pulled into the darkness.
