Mission's Servant, Part One

Foreword:

These grapes aren't ripe; they're definitely sour.

[Part 1: Deep Father-Son Bond]

"Sex Sexy Bomb!"

"Spot on! Pierce through the heart and marrow! Shatter it!"

Fiery flames exploded and spread rapidly from the bat-shaped monster's lower limbs, blooming into a vibrant rose more than 300 meters in the air.

Fret Caesar's left leg exploded on the spot, and the devil, enduring excruciating pain, looked incredulously at his swaying father—at his inseparable mortal enemy.

Only two thick claws on his right leg were holding onto the rotting flesh of Mr. Wood's shoulder and neck. His body rose and fell in the raging, scorching sea wind, as if he might fall into the abyss at any moment and become a clump of foam in the waves.

His face still bore numerous bone fragments that pierced his skin. The devil's left ankle bone, blasted by the Sexy Bomb, had been transformed into a grenade—at such close range, even Wood himself would suffer shrapnel damage from the explosion. His shoulder and neck were still pierced by toe bones, and even with the aid of the Universal Elixir, the devilish essence within his body could not be removed in a short time.

Fret yelled, "You madman!"

"Is this the first day you've met me?" Blood gushed from the penetrating wound in Wood Plark's shoulder and he pressed down on Fret's ankle again—to carry out a second explosive operation.

In a panic, Fret quickly leaned forward and dove, trying to throw Wood Plark off balance by changing his flight attitude.

"If you fall from this height, you'll be torn to pieces! Wood Plark! What are you trying to do?!"

"I can't live without hibiscus bloodstone in my entire life. It's my gemstone, Hope boy." Wood lost his balance, a tremendous force causing his body to tilt and sway sideways, like a ibex caught in the sharp claws of a hawk, its body swept up and flung through the air by the sudden swooping motion. "It's a red stone, the color closest to that of Madness Butterfly. Madness and courage are both controlling me, helping me."

"Today is not Saturday, not the Sabbath—even the God of abundance cannot save my life. This makes me more aware and fills me with determination."

"Fate brought me to your side, you foolish son, how could I easily let this opportunity slip by?"

"Hope! Open your dog eyes and look carefully! Look at me! Then look at yourself! Look at this sky and this earth!"

The great devil was in a panic, as if it were himself, not Wood, dangling from his claws in the wind.

At this altitude, many urban areas of East Horse Port can be seen in the distance. About forty fishing boats have just set sail in the near sea. Due to the strong psionic tides, the surrounding fish have become active due to the peculiar geomagnetic environment.

The overcast and rainy weather seemed to be a harbinger of an approaching tropical storm. Whether it was an organized and disciplined fishing fleet or a scattered group of anglers searching for treasure at sea, they seemed to completely ignore the strange flying demons in the sky, and seemed to be blind to the General of Tears trapped on the beach. For these Inspiration people, no matter how dazzling or magical the spells of the gods were, they could not compare to the joy of a bountiful harvest before the flood season.

Below the coastal watchtower, a mother and daughter were playing with an infant in swaddling clothes. On one side of the irrigation canal, more than twenty fisherwomen and farmers gathered, chatting and laughing as they splashed water on their clothes with sticks.

After the Flash Butterfly died, whenever the patrol team peeked out from the Huacheng Bay morning market, laborers from all walks of life would rush to the steamer stall to exchange money for food, even though the hot war zone where the General of Tears was located was only a little over 180 meters away from them.

"What kind of monster have I raised?" Wood Plark murmured, the wind blowing his blond hair aside, revealing a pair of angry eyes. "You always thought your tricks could turn the whole world Heaven and Earth Turning, that you could hold their Vital Point firmly in your grasp with a few contracts and ridiculous devil's agreements. These are the masses you look down on and despise. You never cared about these people, but I do!"

"You dare not come to the Nine Realms to cause me trouble, hiding in East Horse Port to suck blood and eat flesh, being your landowner, being your little prince—all your power comes from their essence, organizing your servants, building your stinking demon pool—which of these doesn't require people?! Yet you think this is your due? Shamelessly flaunting this power to me, displaying your beautiful posture?!"

"You are the son I raised with my own hands. I have spent half my life working for the various states of Shambhala and the many administrative regions of the Nine Realms, striving for the common happiness of humanity—and you, you fool, for your selfish and ridiculous pride, have turned into a man-eating monster without a second thought."

"The one who should be filled with hatred is me, Hope."

"The Original Seed has taken my youngest son, leaving only this soulless shell, and this vicious Pher Grey Butterfly."

"What does it matter if I hurt myself with [Sexy Bomb]?"

"It is my soul, my essence—a powder keg ready to explode at any moment."

The fascia in Wood's right arm was affected by the Universal Elixir. The moment he regained control of his arm, he tore off the tattered sleeve and vigorously waved the rags.

"Blast it to pieces!"

The spherical flames nearly charred half of Fret's body.

--Although he is a demon from the Nine Hells, the elemental matter that makes up his physical body in the material plane still comes from the creations of the Demon Pool, from the flesh and blood sacrifices of mortals.

He can be reborn from the demon pool again, but he will suffer just as much damage.

The sleeves were catalyzed and detonated by the [Sexy Bomb], and the sudden shockwave scattered the surrounding misty vapor. Golden and red threads turned into flames, and the high temperature and pressure brought by the explosion left the father and son covered in wounds.

Wood's arm was ruined again, making full use of the fifteen milliliters of the Universal Elixir. His body was constantly being tormented, yet also constantly recovering.

The severed arm coughed up some thick, black blood and immediately sprouted fresh flesh. Then, the bones and tendons slowly regenerated, covered with skin and nails.

Fret was blasted to death by the point-blank explosion, his ears bleeding profusely. The entire demon was stunned, still in a diving posture, having lost a segment of his memory, like a boxer whose brain has been hit hard, his consciousness blank.

The devil carried Wood towards the beach at breakneck speed. In this seemingly hopeless situation, Wood Plark still did not give up the struggle. He took another bag of Universal Elixir from the left collar of his coat, bit open the plastic seal, and drank the sip. Almost at the same time, he tightly clutched the claw-like toe on his right shoulder.

This was the last remaining ties between him and Fret, and also his lifeline to maintain his flight posture and avoid falling into the sea and being shattered to pieces.

"Blast it to pieces!"

Half of his body was engulfed in flames, half of his hair burned off along with his face, and his five sharp claws, as thick as bottle caps, exploded into a shower of sparks.

He plummeted rapidly toward the gray ocean, and just seconds before crashing into the icy water, he tore off the rotten flesh from the hole in his shoulder, using the thick, black blood from his palm as a catalyst for the bomb, and slammed the detonator on!

In an instant, a surging Worthington jet appeared on the sea surface; it was a column of water shooting straight up into the sky from below the sea level due to a rapid change in underwater pressure.

On one side of the beach, a young man riding his bicycle had only gone a little over two kilometers and was about to return to the post office street when he saw a gust of wind rise from the beach, and an elderly customer, covered in blood and wounds, fell from the towering water column.

Wood Plark fell to the side of the road and rolled about ten meters away. He got up while holding onto the guardrail, pulled out the sharp claws from the ball joint of his left shoulder, and with a hard pull, the arm was usable again.

He pulled a Universal Elixir syringe—a standard ring needle as defined by the gunsmith—from the miscellaneous pouch at his lower back and plunged it deep into his carotid artery.

Then you see his golden hair growing wildly like weeds, and this distraught man with blood streaming from his ears is suddenly revived. He kicks off his ripped leather shoes and pulls out a white copper staff made of hibiscus bloodstone, which is a combination of staff and stone, from his coat.

Before the water pump operator could say anything...

--Equally disheveled, Fret Caesar once again flapped his fleshy wings, creating a whirlwind as he swooped down.

In just a second or two, Wood Plark was swept along by this rude, savage, and powerful demon, crashing into the courtyard of the old town, smashing through two walls, kicking up dust, and finally crashing into the dyeing vat of the fabric workshop.

[Part ②: Three Prisoners]

Fret Caesar had completely lost his mind; he could no longer laugh.

His adoptive father's psychic abilities physically humiliated him, and repeated verbal insults wounded his spirit.

What he actually wanted was very simple: just a word of affirmation, some comfort, or simply recognition from an enemy or an opponent.

He didn't want to hear a single word of Wood Plark's grand ideals.

--Because we can't get the grapes, they must be sour.

People may find happiness because of their fathers, but this happiness never belonged to Hope Plark.

Perhaps there was a little bit of warmth from family, but more than that, there was resentment and hatred from unfulfilled desires.

The series of explosions caused the floor tiles around the dye pool to crack, and two weak and powerless figures emerged from the pool water.

Wood got up to grab the brass rod and smash the unfilial son's head, but found that his arm had broken off while performing the explosive operation underwater, and he could no longer hold onto the rod, which then fell to the ground.

Fret slumped to the side of the clean water pool, his eyes blinded by the bright red dye. He braced himself against the slippery floor with his arms. The instant he locked onto his father through psychic perception, he began to chant incantations—to use curses against this psychic who was unafraid of pain and death.

The next second, his jaw dropped, and Wood kicked the door shut.

To lock onto Fret's head with [Sex Sexy Bomb], Wood had to touch the devil's head with his bare hands. He wrestled with the incredibly strong monster, his eyes soaked in dye, only able to see a blurry shadow struggling incessantly.

But Fret did not surrender easily. Despite his strong physique, he had an overly small head. He kept using the power of [Helping Hand] to reduce his father's range, compress Wood's arm, and redirect the deadly detonator.

Both of their psionic powers were limited by range and required full chirality to activate. Under the influence of the Universal Elixir, Wood's left arm gradually developed a complete nodular swelling at the wound. Before it completely retracted and healed itself beyond his control, the experienced professor of magic once again rolled away from the devil to maintain a relatively safe distance to adjust his physical condition.

Once Fret's mouth was freed, he would resume chanting spells, hoping the power of the Pher Grey Butterfly would kill his opponent. However, after the two separated, he found it difficult to pinpoint Wood Plark's location.

The crimson dye blinded him, making it impossible for him to see the details of the dyeing area in the workshop. All around him were dyeing pools and long poles for drying cloth, yet Wood Plark's spiritual pressure grew weaker and weaker.

--This is a method to stop psionic reactions, eliminate soul power fluctuations to conceal one's aura, and restore normal human behavior, allowing psionicists to evade detection by creatures from the Netherworld.

"Hidden? Father? Why? Are you afraid?"

Fret stopped chanting the incantation and began to speak in human language while examining the injuries he had sustained.

"Afraid that I'll use my devilish techniques against you? You admit my power?"

"Hmph. Hehehehehe. Hehehe. Hahahahaha!~"

The fleshy wings on one side of his body, from his right shoulder blade to his spine, had been completely blown off, his spine was bent laterally, seven ribs were broken, and his two legs were newly grown, making it impossible for him to maintain his balance—this is why Wood Plark was able to suppress the devil with the physical attributes of Homo sapiens.

Fret, half-paralyzed beside the dye vat, leaned against the pillar of the cloth shop pavilion and slowly got up.

He fell from a height of over two hundred meters into the shallows, his bones shattered and his flesh torn apart, almost spilling his internal organs out of his body. He had no time to recover from his injuries, and relying on his supernatural healing abilities, he immediately began to hunt down Wood. This hatred drove him, controlled him, and made him relentlessly pursue his father.

He possesses devilish vision, capable of detecting the flow of spiritual particles in the air—

--If Wood Plark were to activate his Soul Power again and use the power of [Sex Sexy Bomb], even though the naked eye cannot see any light, he could still lock onto his father's location through his spiritual essence.

The Universal Elixir can only help the hero possess the same regenerative and self-healing vitality as the monster—it is not the key to victory.

Wood still has four injections of the Universal Elixir, each one a chance to fully recover health, and each one a prerequisite for [Sexy Bomb] to carry out a point-blank explosion.

He stood motionless in the narrow alley between the red dye pool and the cloth drying area, choosing a spot facing the wind to avoid the sea breeze and prevent his scent and pheromones from falling into the devil's nostrils.

His condition was equally bad; the club was still at Fret Caesar's feet, and his eyes had been completely blinded when he was immersed in the dye pool, so he could see nothing—he could only rely on his powerful memory to orient himself and adapt to the terrain.

For sorcerers, the outcome of a battle can be decided in the blink of an eye.

Perhaps the spellcasters at the magic academy, these psychics skilled in chanting incantations and manipulating mediums, would also hold grand rituals, unleashing various psychic arts from a relatively safe distance, engaging in back-and-forth exchanges for dozens of rounds.

However, for gifted spellcasters, and for the devil Wood Plark and Fret, who spent their entire lives studying their soul power and practicing various spellcasting techniques around this talent, magic was something the Magic Academy could not replicate or learn.

It might only take a second or two for Wood to find the right explosives, quickly approach Fret, and use the Sexy Bomb to blow the devil's head to smithereens.

The situation was the same for Fret Caesar. As long as he could pinpoint Wood Plark's location, channel all the magical power of this demonic body into a single curse spell, use [Helping Hand] to maneuver around him, compress the Blood Boiling Spell to six syllables, and then be reborn from the demon pool, he could leisurely fly back to the cloth shop and take a good look at his father's festering, blood-boiling corpse.

"You don't dare to come out and see me?!"

Fret cursed--

"--Coward! You don't deserve the surname Pluck!"

"Wood! Wood! Wood! Get out here!"

"Just say one thing! Just one! Are you so scared you can't even speak?"

"My body is constantly regaining its strength! While you will only grow weaker and weaker."

"Aren't you worried at all?"

Just as the two were locked in a stalemate and in a predicament, a deaf-mute boy slowly walked out from the spinning and weaving area. He was about seventeen or eighteen years old. Unable to find suitable work, he came to the cloth workshop to make a living, doing the last step of washing yarn.

A group of workers gathered at the other end of the spinning room and the yarn washing ditch, and pushed out this young man with no relatives or friends, wanting this deaf-mute man to see what was going on.

When people opened their doors and windows and saw Fret, this ferocious devil, they immediately retreated back into the house, leaving the mute young man alone outside in a panic—no matter how he shouted or yelled, not a single word came out of his hoarse throat. He could only bang on the door, and even his cries could barely make a sound.

"Wood!" Fret could sense something alive approaching. A mischievous idea struck him. "It seems another unfortunate soul has been brought to our side by fate. Judging from the voice, it's a boy, and he's locked in a cage with us two prisoners—"

"--So who will he help? You or me? You must be plotting something, right? Using this boy to deliver a bomb?! To get some small gifts for me? Right? You've always been this kind of person."

Fret had the advantage of speaking first, and he would never give up the opportunity, so he immediately shouted towards the source of the sound.

"Hey! Young man! You see a man, he's about six and a half feet tall, a blond foreigner?"

"But now I'm probably about the same size as him, my hair and skin have been dyed red by this pool of water."

Where is he? Where is he?

"As long as you can tell me"

"I am the owner of the East Horse Port Tequila Sunrise Hotel! I am also the guardian spirit of His Excellency the Governor."

"I can grant you wealth and glory, let you drink and eat meat, wield a deadly sword when awake, and rest your head on a beautiful woman's lap when drunk!"

"Those bastards who kicked you out of the workshop must all kneel before you and apologize!"

"Which girl in this cloth shop catches your eye? I'll strip her naked and send her to your bed!"

"From now on, you are the master of this place!"

Wood Plark remained still, communicating with the deaf boy using sign language.

Unfortunately, the boy couldn't even understand sign language; perhaps he had never learned these gestures from Dadu.

"Damn it!"

Upon hearing the babbling, Fret finally realized that the person was mute.

"Useless trash!"