"Who's there?!"
The Tide Cultists, who relied on scent, never expected anyone behind them. Before they could counterattack—
A pair of grotesque, blood-soaked hands seized both their heads.
"Demon's Embrace."
Terrifying grip crushed the two cultists' skulls into pulp. Foul-smelling chunks of white flesh splattered on the ground, still twitching.
As their heads shattered, the cultists' bodies disintegrated into tentacles and gelatinous goo. Clearly dead.
"Ugh, that heavy fishy stench! Ptooey!"
Abel shook his hands in disgust, flinging off the sticky slime.
These pesky Tide Cultists were coated in goo, immune to ordinary weapons. Blades couldn't kill them—only magic worked.
It was just disgusting.
"And summoning such a huge Trickster Deity's tumor... for a measly 750 gold commission? Kind of a rip-off."
Abel hadn't spotted Shea atop the tumor. It was too tall, blocking his view.
But Shea, perched high above, had seen Abel arrive as the tumor wobbled.
Wahhh! Big bro Hunter, you're my savior!
As a Radiant Sun Rank Hunter, hurry up and use your invincible move to smash this blob! I can't hold on!
Shea clung desperately to a bone spur, stopping tentacles from dragging her inside.
She knew that once in, even if the tumor didn't devour her, Abel's attack would catch her. She'd die an utterly unfair death.
"Better finish this quickly."
Even without Shea's plea, Abel knew if this flesh mass reached the city and devoured more people, it'd be harder to kill.
He had to crush it now, while newborn and weak.
But instantly obliterating a near two-story monster was tough.
Especially since Abel lacked his proper weapons.
Only magic could end it fast.
He bit his index finger, offering blood to summon a demonic spell.
As blood dripped, it transformed into threads, swiftly drawing a magic circle. The demon controlled it, not Abel.
Meanwhile, Shea on the tumor was running out of strength.
What's Abel doing?!
You're Radiant Sun Rank! Smashing this blob should be one hit! Hurry! I'm almost done for!
Shea hadn't realized Abel's weapons were with her. His current gear was useless against these horrors.
"Blood Vines."
Threads shot from the circle, tightly wrapping the Trickster Deity's tumor and constricting hard.
Stung, the tumor thrashed violently. But the more it struggled, the tighter the threads squeezed, slicing its hide. Black blood oozed out.
Exhausted, the tumor still strained to devour Shea.
"You big black blob, don't drag me down with you!"
Shea knew if pulled in first, she'd be torn apart. Using every ounce of strength, she refused to let go.
"Where's that voice from?" Abel heard a girl's voice but saw no survivors nearby.
"Never mind. Shred it to pieces."
"Rip!" Threads instantly contracted, reducing the two-story tumor to meat chunks.
The explosion rained black droplets inside the Dicos branch.
Abel calmly opened an umbrella and left.
Shea, however, was a mess.
Hanging from a third-floor railing, exhausted, she couldn't even curse.
"But without this Hunter, I'd have died here."
Though she still disliked the guy who tried to spank her, Shea admitted: without him, her photo would be in black and white today.
"I stink of fish. Gotta get home..."
After a whole night, she'd found few coins and came back reeking. Utterly unlucky.
Shea sighed helplessly and walked downstairs.
Passing the night market, low-spirited, she decided to buy groceries on the way in.
"What to eat tomorrow... Oh, got it."
After seafood tormented her, Shea chose seafood for breakfast. Revenge is sweet.
"Boss, give me a swordfish."
"One gold coin."
"Boss, this swordfish is belly-up, about to croak. Ten silver coins, max."
"..." The fishmonger had seen hagglers, but never this ruthless. He shook his head.
"No way. Fifty silver coins."
"Then forget it. I don't want it."
The fishmonger hesitated. Selling this dying fish wouldn't lose him much. He nodded.
"Twenty-five silver coins. No less."
"Rounding down—twenty silver coins."
"..." The fishmonger cursed inwardly.
But he sold the fish to Shea.
Spite lifted Shea's mood. Home, she placed the belly-up swordfish in a tub. First, a shower to wash off the stench. Then breakfast.
"Yawn... So sleepy. Gotta hurry—I have school."
Shea soaked in the bathtub. Meanwhile, Abel returned home after collecting his bounty from the Dicos Guild.
His expression turned grim at the door.
The air reeked of salty sea breeze and heavy fish stench.
The Tidal Cult's signature message.
Had they tracked him here?
Summoning the Demon Hand, Abel followed the scent.
The closer to the bathroom, the stronger the smell.
Bathroom light on, water running. But 5 AM—who showers now?
"Has Shea been attacked?"
Abel thought: maybe last night, Tidal Cultists ambushed her while bathing.
Her fate...
Worry gripped him. He dared not imagine further.
Break down the door now—maybe save her.
"Iron Mountain Lean!"
"Boom!!" The door smashed open. Abel, hands demonic, charged in, knocking over the swordfish tub.
"Splat!" The swordfish hit the wall, very dead.
Under the steam, no cultists.
Only Shea in the tub, staring at him with stunned eyes.
"Uh... Good morning. Fancy meeting you here."
