Curse

By the time the two of them rushed out of the building, the wound on Luther's chest had completely healed.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

The guards had already been alerted by the gunshots and sounds of fighting. The moment they saw them, they shouted and surrounded them. But before they could get close, Leonard began reciting poetry again, and the guards collapsed onto the cold ground, peacefully falling asleep.

Luther pulled the bloodstained map from his pocket. According to the blood markings on it, they needed to follow the Tussock River deeper into the back of the company grounds. The abandoned dock lay within a river bend farther in.

"Over there!"

He pointed out the direction, and the two set off at a run.

"Huff! Huff!"

Before long, Luther began panting from exhaustion. He was immensely grateful that he had taken combat training and improved his stamina somewhat. Otherwise, he would never have been able to keep up.

Leonard ran ahead of Luther. He could have run much faster, but to accommodate Luther, he kept his pace at a relatively low level.

The two ran one after the other into the depths of the William Transport Company. Before long, the outline of an abandoned dock appeared before them.

The half-visible Crimson Moon cast down a faint glow, barely illuminating everything before them.

Cracks had spread across the dock's concrete ground, with all kinds of weeds growing wildly between them. The steel-framed bridge had rusted over, and the wooden planks extending from the bank were mostly rotten. This place truly had been abandoned for a long time.

Yet, in the deep waters of that river bend, concealed by the surrounding buildings, an unidentified cargo ship was docked there. From the outside, the ship was perfectly blocked by the haphazardly constructed buildings. Combined with how remote this place was, no one would ever discover that such a cargo ship was hidden here unless they came looking for it specifically.

"Damn..."

Leonard sighed as well. Unlike the dilapidated dock, the ship was intact on the outside, without the slightest sign of damage or decay. It was clearly still operational.

A vague figure appeared at the bow, seemingly the hooded man who had ambushed them. He lightly jumped down from the bow and, with a splash, plunged into the Tussock River, diving beneath the surface and vanishing.

"Don't chase him. Let's get aboard and take a look."

Leonard spoke in a low voice.

A wooden plank extended from the ship toward the shore. The two carefully stepped across it and boarded the vessel.

The moment they entered the cabin, the fresh stench of blood hit them head-on, thick and undisguised as it flooded their nostrils.

The two exchanged a glance and followed the bloody smell as they searched around. They found corpses on the deck, in the crew quarters, and even in the captain's cabin. Some bodies lay on beds, perhaps having been asleep. Those on the deck might have been standing watch. A group of Sailors had gathered in the dining room, as if they had been holding a feast... but now they were all dead.

Whoever did this was ruthless.

Luther thought to himself. He entered the captain's cabin and found a man dressed as the captain sprawled over the navigation table. The logbook had been tossed into a brazier and burned down to its cover.

Who had silenced them, and for what purpose?

Perhaps checking what cargo they were transporting would make it clear.

They headed down to the lower cabin and lifted the hatch. A wave of heat and foul odor rushed up at them. Revolvers in hand and gas lamps raised, they descended the stairs into the cargo hold one careful step at a time.

The orange-yellow edge of the gas lamps' glow stretched ahead, illuminating faces deep within the hold—some terrified, some numb, some exhausted.

The cargo they were transporting was people.

"This situation has exceeded our capabilities. We have to report it to the captain."

After leaving the cabin, Leonard said to Luther with a grim expression.

No one had expected that what began as an ordinary investigation into an affair would end up involving human trafficking connected to Beyonders.

The people below deck clearly came from the Southern Continent, judging by their skin color and features. When questioned, they only replied in Dutanese, making communication impossible.

"Those bastards!"

Leonard looked furious as he suddenly began cursing the Mr. Pound he had never met. "I thought he was just having a little affair. Who would have thought he was trafficking people!"

"A lot of the girls inside looked like they had been abused."

Luther nodded in realization. No wonder the Spirit World creature had seemed so confused when he questioned it before. Mr. Pound had not been having an affair at all. He had been taking advantage of the convenience of slave trafficking to ravage the young women among them.

Leonard fumed for a while in the cabin before gradually bringing his emotions under control. Then he looked up at Luther and said, "Let's go. We'll head back and report to the captain."

Luther squeezed the small bottle in his pocket. It contained the hooded man's blood.

"How about you go alone? I'll stay here and keep watch."

He said to Leonard.

Leonard froze. "But that isn't safe..."

"That guy already ran away. Is he going to come back on his own so we can catch him?" Luther said. "I can protect the scene by staying here. Besides, if you go alone, you won't have me slowing you down, so you'll be faster."

His reasoning made sense, and Leonard was quickly convinced. After reminding him to be careful, Leonard left on his own.

After watching Leonard's figure disappear into the distance, Luther gripped the small bottle of blood and entered the cabin with a gloomy expression.

He had sent Leonard away for one reason only: to get revenge on the bastard who had dared stab him!

He would use a ritual to curse him until he took his life!

Luther entered the dining room. Many corpses lay scattered about inside—the Sailors who had previously been dining and celebrating. The grilled fish and mushroom soup on the tables were still steaming, but the people meant to enjoy them were dead.

Terror had frozen on the Sailors' faces. Every one of them had been killed with a single clean strike to a vital point.

"Excellent. He killed so many people that I don't even need to look for ritual sacrifices now."

Luther sniffed the thick scent of blood in the dining room and let out a cold laugh.

He lit two candles on the dining table, then drew out the ritual dagger from his pocket. He cut his finger and evenly smeared the blood across the blade. He did not create a Wall of Spirituality. Instead, he raised the dagger in the dining room filled with corpses.

"Lord who created everything."

He called upon the True Creator's Honorific Name in Hermes.

The surroundings fell silent. Though it was summer, in August or September, not even the chirping of insects outside could be heard.

"The Lord who Reigns Behind the Curtain of Shadows."

The cabin began to sway, and the gas lamps hanging from the ceiling swung back and forth, casting shifting shadows.

Luther had still only recited two lines of the Honorific Name rather than the full title. Yet a certain blasphemous, evil power had already vaguely descended. The hidden existence he had invoked seemed impatient to bestow its favor upon him, like a generous sales manager constantly extending a customer's trial period.

But all a sales manager wanted was your money, while an evil god wanted far more than merely your soul.

"Praise the Lord, and offer a feast to the great Lord."

Luther spoke devout words in a thoroughly irreverent tone. "May the Lord's breath remain ever by my side and remove the obstacles of our enemies..."

An illusory wind arose within the dining room, carrying the shrill wails of those on the brink of death. After the wind passed, the originally overpowering bloody stench abruptly became faint, as if it had been swept away to somewhere unknown. The dead men's faces turned unnaturally pale, changing from the pallor of corpses to a lifeless, inorganic white.

Luther raised the ritual dagger and lightly flicked it through the air. A wicked and pure aura of Degeneration wound itself around the blade. He rotated the dagger, allowing the aura to spread evenly across it, then crouched while gripping it.

The cabin floor was made of wood. He easily carved a crude little figure into it with the dagger. The figure was rough, about the size of a palm. Once Luther had drawn its outline, he took out the bottle of blood and poured it over the simple figure.

The small amount of blood dripped down, then spread flat under the urging of some unknown power. It evenly covered the figure's outline without spilling even a drop outside it.

Luther raised the dagger, its blade pointing downward.

"You dared stab me?"

He sneered and viciously drove the dagger down!

Thud!

The dagger pierced straight through the wooden board. Though he had stabbed wood, Luther felt resilient feedback as if he had pierced flesh.

The blood covering the crude figure rippled, as though it were screaming in unbearable agony.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Luther gave a cold smile, pulled out the dagger, and stabbed the figure again.

"Hmm?"

This strike produced less feedback and carried a faint resistance.

Someone was blocking his curse.

"Hmph, you dare stop me?"

Luther smiled savagely, directly using the dagger to slice open his palm and letting his blood gush into the figure's outline. Then he raised the dagger high with both hands.

"Praise the Lord!"

He shouted with a vicious expression, driving the dagger down at the figure with all his strength!

Thud—

The blood over the figure practically began to boil! Drops of blood splashed and danced, but before long, they lost all vitality and became like dead matter, slowly seeping through the hole left by the dagger.

Luther watched everything with cold eyes. Once the phenomenon ended, he pulled out the dagger, quickly cleaned up the scene, then stood and strode toward the cabin exit.

Leonard would be back soon. He needed to return to the deck quickly and pretend that nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Tingen City.

A lavish ball was in full swing. Amid the melodious music, more than a dozen pairs of elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies danced gracefully across the floor.

The crystal chandelier illuminated the splendid hall and caused the jewels around each lady's snow-white neck to gleam brilliantly. Ambiguous whispers sounded beneath the cover of music, while cheerful laughter mingled with the perfume near the ladies' ears and drifted through the air.

The gentlemen's gazes roamed through the crowd, searching for the most enchanting figure, but found nothing.

Those gazes inevitably turned disappointed and regretful. They wondered which Lucky One would have the honor of tasting her sweetness tonight.

In a secret room on the second floor, Madam Sharon, with her graceful figure and irresistible charm, wore a cold expression on the exquisite face that had captivated countless people as she asked, "Nighthawks?"

Beside her stood a beautiful round-faced girl in a dress—the very girl Luther had seen before.

"Yes, at least one Sequence 8 Midnight Poet."

Opposite the two stood the hooded Assassin. He had removed his hood, revealing himself as a young man. Covering his injured arm, he replied, "But I've already silenced everyone aboard the ship..."

Before he could finish speaking, an expression of extreme terror suddenly appeared on his face.