Curse

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

"Hey! Stop right there!"

The guards had been awakened by the sound of gunfire and fighting, and upon seeing them, they shouted and swarmed over. But before they could even get close, Leonard began chanting a poem again, and the group of guards collapsed onto the cold ground, peacefully drifting into a dream.

Luther pulled the blood-stained map from his coat. According to the blood markings on it, they needed to follow the direction of the Tassok River and head deep into the rear of the company; the abandoned shipyard was located in the river bend further ahead.

"That way!"

He pointed out the direction, and the two of them broke into a run.

"Huff! Huff!"

Not long after they started running, Luther began to pant from exhaustion. He was extremely grateful at that moment that he had participated in combat training, which had improved his physical fitness; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to keep going.

Leonard was running ahead of Luther. He could have run much faster, but to accommodate Luther, he kept his speed at a consistently low level.

The two of them ran one after the other into the depths of the William Transportation Company, and before long, the silhouette of the abandoned shipyard appeared before them.

Only half a Red Moon cast a faint glow, dimly illuminating everything before them.

The concrete floor of the shipyard was already cracked, with various weeds growing wantonly in the fissures. The steel-framed bridge had rusted, and the wooden planks protruding from the riverbank were mostly rotten; it looked as though this place had indeed been abandoned for a long time.

Yet, in the deep water of the river bend, hidden by the buildings, an unidentified cargo ship was moored. Seen from the outside, the ship was perfectly obscured by the haphazardly constructed buildings, and given the remoteness of the location, it was unlikely anyone would have discovered such a cargo ship hidden here without specifically looking for it!

"To hell with this..."

Leonard sighed as well. Unlike the dilapidated shipyard, the exterior of the ship was intact, showing no signs of damage or decay; it was clearly a vessel in working order.

A vague figure appeared on the bow, seemingly the hooded person who had ambushed them. He leaped nimbly from the bow, and with a "splash," he jumped into the Tassok River, dived to the riverbed, and vanished.

"Don't chase him, let's check the ship."

Leonard said in a low voice.

The ship had extended a wooden plank toward the shore, and the two of them carefully stepped across it and onto the vessel.

As soon as they entered the cabin, the fresh scent of blood rushed toward them, thick and unmasked, flooding their nasal cavities.

The two exchanged a glance and searched around, following the stench of blood. They discovered corpses on the deck, in the crew quarters, and even in the Captain's Room. Some bodies lay in bed, perhaps having been asleep; those on the deck might have been on watch; and there was a group of Sailors gathered in the dining hall, as if they had been holding a banquet... but now, they were all dead.

A truly ruthless hand.

Luther thought to himself. He walked into the Captain's Room and found the man dressed as the captain slumped over the navigation table, the navigation log having been thrown into a brazier and burned until only the cover remained.

Who could it be, and for what purpose did they come to silence them?

Perhaps checking what cargo they were transporting would provide the answer.

They headed down to the lower deck, lifted the hatch, and a wave of heat carrying a foul odor surged up. The two of them gripped their revolvers, raised their gas lamps, and stepped down the stairs to the lower cargo hold, walking step by step with extreme vigilance.

The orange glow of the gas lamp extended forward, illuminating faces in the depths of the hold that were filled with terror, numbness, or exhaustion.

The cargo they were transporting was people.

"The situation has exceeded our capabilities; we must report this to the captain."

After coming out of the hold, Leonard said to Luther with a grim face.

No one had expected that what was originally just a routine investigation into an affair would end up involving Human Trafficking linked to a Beyonder.

The skin color and features of the people in the hold clearly indicated they were from the South Continent. When asked questions, they only replied in the Dutan language of the South Continent, making communication impossible.

"The bastard!"

Leonard looked quite annoyed and suddenly began cursing the Mr. Pound he had never met. "I thought he was just having a little affair, but who would have thought he was actually involved in Human Trafficking!"

"Many of the girls inside look like they've been abused."

Luther nodded in realization. No wonder the Spirit World creature had seemed so confused when he had questioned it earlier. It was because Mr. Pound wasn't having an affair at all, but was instead using the convenience of slave trafficking to wantonly ravage the young women among them.

Leonard remained angry in the cabin for a while, gradually regained control of his emotions, and then looked up at him. "Let's go, let's head back and report to the captain."

Luther squeezed the small bottle in his pocket; it contained the blood of the hooded person.

"Why don't you go alone? I'll stand guard here."

He said to Leonard.

Leonard was stunned. "But that's not safe..."

"That guy already ran away; can he come back on his own for us to catch?" Luther said. "I can protect the scene while I'm here, and if you go alone, you'll be faster without me dragging you down."

What he said made sense, and Leonard was quickly persuaded. After reminding him to be careful, he left alone.

After watching Leonard's figure disappear, Luther walked into the cabin with a gloomy expression, clutching the small bottle of blood in his hand.

He wasn't sending Leonard away for any other reason than to take revenge on the guy who dared to stab him!

He was going to use a Ritual to curse the other party until he took his life!

Luther stepped into the dining hall, where many corpses lay scattered about—the very Sailors who had been holding the banquet earlier. The roast fish and mushroom soup on the table were still steaming, but the people who were meant to enjoy them were already dead.

Terror was frozen on the faces of the Sailors; each one had been killed with a single strike, cleanly and efficiently hitting a vital point.

"Very good. Having killed so many people, I don't even need to find ritual offerings anymore."

Luther sniffed the heavy scent of blood in the dining room and sneered.

He lit two candles on the dining table, then drew his Ritual Dagger from his robe, sliced his finger, and smeared the blood evenly across the blade. He did not bother to create a Spiritual Wall, instead raising the dagger high within the corpse-strewn dining room.

"Lord who created everything."

He invoked the honorific name of the True Creator using the Hermes language.

The surroundings fell silent. In this mid-summer season of August or September, even the chirping of insects outside could no longer be heard.

"Master Behind the Shadow Curtain."

The ship's cabin began to sway, and the gas lamp hanging from the ceiling swung, casting flickering shadows.

Luther still only recited two lines of the honorific name rather than the full title. Yet, a certain blasphemous and evil power had already faintly descended; the hidden existence he called upon was impatient to bestow a gift upon him, much like a generous sales manager constantly extending a client's trial period.

But what a sales manager seeks is merely your money, while what an Evil God wants is far more than just your soul.

"Praise the Lord, offering a feast for the great Lord."

Luther spoke these pious words in a tone devoid of any piety. "May the Lord's breath always accompany me, clearing away obstacles for us..."

A phantom wind whistled through the dining room, carrying the shrill wails of the dying. Once the wind passed, the previously thick scent of blood suddenly thinned, as if swept away to some unknown place. The faces of the dead turned unnaturally fair, shifting from the pale color of corpses to a stark, inorganic whiteness.

Luther raised the Ritual Dagger and flicked it lightly in the air, causing a certain evil and pure aura of the Degenerate to entwine around the blade. After twisting the dagger to ensure the aura was evenly coated, he crouched down while gripping the weapon.

The cabin floor was made of wood, and he easily carved a crude stick figure into it with the dagger. The figure was rough, roughly the size of a palm. Once the outline was complete, Luther took the bottle of blood from his pocket and poured it over the stick figure.

The blood dripped down, and under the influence of some unknown power, it spread out to cover the outline of the figure perfectly without spilling a single drop.

Luther raised the dagger, blade pointing downward.

"You dare to stab me?"

He sneered and plunged the blade down with force!

"Pfft!"

The dagger pierced straight through the wooden floorboards. Even though he had struck wood, Luther felt a resilient feedback as if he had stabbed into flesh and blood.

The blood on the surface of the stick figure rippled, as if it were screaming in extreme agony.

"Does it feel good?"

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

"Hm?"

The feedback from this strike was weaker, and it carried a faint sense of resistance.

Someone was blocking his curse.

"Hmph, you dare to stop me?"

Luther laughed viciously. He took the dagger and slashed his own palm, letting blood gush into the outline of the figure, then raised the dagger high with both hands.

"Praise the Lord!"

He shouted with a ferocious expression and stabbed down at the figure with all his might!

"Pfft—"

The blood on the surface of the figure seemed to boil! Droplets splashed and danced, but before long, they lost all vitality, turning into dead matter and slowly seeping down through the hole made by the dagger.

Luther watched this coldly until the phenomenon ended. He pulled out the blade, quickly tidied up the scene, and stood up to stride out of the cabin.

Leonard would be back soon; he needed to return to the deck immediately and pretend that nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Tingen City.

A luxurious ball was in full swing. Amidst the melodic music, over a dozen pairs of elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies danced gracefully on the dance floor.

The light from the crystal chandelier illuminated the magnificent hall, causing the gems on the white necks of every lady to reflect a brilliant luster. Ambiguous whispers rose beneath the cover of the music, and joyful laughter drifted through the air along with the scent of perfume from the ladies' temples.

The gentlemen's gazes wandered through the crowd, searching for the most charming figure, yet they found nothing.

Consequently, those gazes could not help but turn disappointed and regretful. They sighed, wondering which Lucky One would be able to win her favor tonight?

In a secret room on the second floor, the slender and alluring Madam Sharon kept her beautiful face—which had captivated countless men—cold as she asked, "Night Watcher?"

Beside her stood a beautiful young girl with a round face, wearing a dress; she was the very girl Luther had seen before.

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

Opposite them stood the hooded Assassin. He had already removed his hood, revealing a young man. He clutched his injured arm and replied, "However, I have already silenced everyone on the ship..."

Just then, before he could finish his sentence, he suddenly displayed an expression of extreme terror.