Black Lake

"Ahhh!!"

"Ugh... ahhh!!"

The few locals reading on the third floor of the library screamed like madmen. They collapsed to the floor, scrambling backward and shrinking away, their faces filled with terror as they stared at the hellish scene around them.

And at the blood-drenched man in a trench coat, walking toward them while dragging an axe.

"Please! Spare us, sir!"

A woman cried out, begging for mercy.

Thud!

Gilan stopped in front of them, the head of the wood-axe in his hand striking the floor with a dull thud. The sound made the group jump, their eyes blinking rapidly as tears threatened to spill.

"Do you have a cigarette?" He reached out a hand toward one of the men.

"Y-yes... yes, sir."

The man was stunned for a moment before hurriedly pulling out a pack of cigarettes to hand to Gilan, then trembling as he took out a matchbox, struck a match, and lit it for him personally.

Gilan held the cigarette between his blood-stained fingers, took a deep drag, and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Thanks," he said flatly.

He then turned and left, axe in hand, swaggering down the stairs.

Seeing his back disappear, the locals finally let out long breaths, feeling the relief of having survived a brush with death.

After leaving the library, Gilan walked down the street, covered in blood and carrying his axe.

The local residents changed color the moment they saw him, scurrying away in fear.

Gilan paid them no mind. As he smoked, he focused on the corner of his vision, where the colorful numbers only he could see had changed to "13."

Hmm... according to Mr. Oystercatcher, my current strength should be at the "Emblem" level now, right?

Through his battle with the Cultists, he had roughly gauged his own level, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The harvest is good, too. Now, I'll head straight to Black Lake to see what secrets are hidden there!

He was very interested in that missing alchemist.

As he thought this, Gilan suddenly drew the short-barreled revolver from his waist and flagged down a passing carriage.

"S-sir?!" The driver's eyes widened, and he hurriedly raised his hands.

"Take me to the Forest National Park."

Gilan vaulted onto the carriage and said softly.

"Of course, no problem! Sir!" The driver dared not refuse, answering "readily" before snapping the reins to turn the horses and heading straight for the north side of town.

Gilan didn't have the time to worry about much else.

He knew the Lake God Cult had infiltrated the entire town and that he would soon be hunted by them, so it was best to reach Black Lake before the Cultists could intercept him.

Under the pressure of the gun barrel, the driver worked diligently, sweating profusely as he whipped the horses to increase their speed. This time, it took less than ten minutes to deliver Gilan to his destination.

"Keep the change." Gilan hopped off the carriage and grabbed a handful of loose bills from his trench coat pocket, shoving them directly into the driver's hand.

It was some of the local currency, known as "Dormark," that he had scavenged from the cabinet at the front desk before leaving the library.

He couldn't take it with him anyway, so he tossed it to the driver as a tip.

Ignoring the man's stunned reaction, he strode toward the entrance of the forest park.

Clang!

He kicked open the wrought-iron gate and walked inside without stopping.

Passing the exhibition hall, Gilan glanced again at the mammoth specimen in the glass case, and that instinctive fear welled up from the bottom of his heart once more.

Gilan's heart tightened, and he quickly looked away.

Immediately after, ignoring the terrified gazes of the museum staff, he pushed open the glass door and walked straight into the Pine Forest.

With the experience from his last "viewing," Gilan followed his vague memory along the dirt path, heading deeper into the woods.

The surrounding trees were towering, blocking out the sky. Unknown birds let out cooing cries, and from time to time, the rustling of movement could be heard from the bushes.

Gilan moved through them like an insignificant fallen leaf.

A moment later.

He arrived at the spot where the last movie had ended, yet he did not encounter an ambush by the Cultists.

Is it because of Sheriff Pierre?

Gilan scanned his surroundings, guessing to himself.

Last time, the group from the society had hired the sheriff to accompany them, but since the Public Security Bureau was entirely composed of Lake God Cult members, it was very likely they had tipped them off in advance to set an ambush.

This time, Gilan was alone and moving quickly, so he had likely caught them off guard.

That was a good thing for him.

Gilan continued forward, dragging his wood-axe.

However, after advancing just over a hundred meters, a familiar, burly figure wandered out from the woods and entered his field of vision—

A Prisoner Monster in a brown prison uniform, with fleshy wings on its back and a two-meter-tall muscular frame!

"Well met!" Gilan narrowed his eyes.

He did not dodge or evade; instead, he gripped his wood-chopping axe and walked straight toward the monster.

A ferocious look appeared on Gilan's face. He had never forgotten that this monster had punched him at the end of the last movie.

Since he had promised to beat it to death if they met again, he would certainly do exactly that!

He walked faster and faster, then broke into a run, launching a charge.

The Prisoner Monster stopped in its tracks and whipped its head around.

Its twisted, clumped-together face stared at the approaching creature, and then, flapping its fleshy wings, it lunged at Gilan like a predatory beast in flight!

The two closed the distance to within a few meters in just two seconds, and the Prisoner Monster swung a fist.

The force of the wind whipped up the tips of Gilan's hair; he could even clearly see the fused, scarred skin tissue on the back of the monster's hand—the marks of severe burns.

Gilan grinned, gripped the axe with both hands, and delivered a diagonal slash!

Crack!!

The wood-chopping axe slammed into the monster's fist. A massive recoil surged from the handle, numbing Gilan's hands and forcing him to retreat several steps.

But Gilan was not annoyed; on the contrary, he was quite excited.

Last time, he had been sent flying by a single punch from the monster with no power to resist, but this time, he could barely hold his own in a direct clash of strength. Looking at his opponent, that massive, hard fist had been split open by the axe, like a cracked nut.

However, the Prisoner Monster seemed to lack any sense of pain or blood. Ignoring its mangled, bone-exposed palm, it raised its other hand and swiped down.

Whoosh—

The wind gusted as it struck.

Gilan's body was quite agile and resilient. He leaned back, pushed off with his feet, and twisted his body to dodge the swipe, seizing the opportunity to circle under the monster's ribs.

As he surged forward, the wood-chopping axe in his hands traced a crescent moon and slashed heavily across the monster's abdomen!

Splutch!!

The sharp blade tore through the prison uniform and bit deep into the monster's belly!

Gilan's face was cold, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle. He yanked the axe out and struck again, hitting the exact same spot!

"Chop!!" he growled.

With this blow, the Prisoner Monster's waist was nearly severed. Like a bulging leather bag that had been ripped open, some putrid, foul-smelling entrails and intestines spilled out.

"Ugh!!" A strange roar erupted from the Prisoner Monster's throat. It clapped its hands together as if trying to give Gilan a hug.

But Gilan knew that if he were clamped by that embrace, he wouldn't have a good ending.

At the critical moment, he kicked the monster's knee to make it stagger, used the momentum to leap up, and brought the axe down with all his might onto its twisted forehead!

"Die!!"

Gilan roared, putting every ounce of his strength into the blow.

The axe descended like a lightning bolt from the sky, striking the center of the Prisoner Monster's bald head—

Crack!!

The palm-sized axe head bit deep into the monster's skull, nearly splitting it in two.

At the same time, the wooden handle snapped under the immense force, and Gilan lost his balance, tumbling to the ground.

He didn't care about the mud and rotting leaves covering his face and scrambled back to his feet.

He saw the Prisoner Monster, which had been standing straight, topple backward with a dull thud.

The broken axe remained wedged in its forehead, as if fused into the bone.

"Whew..." Gilan let out a long breath and grinned. "A demon that doesn't fear bullets? Turns out it can be hacked to death by an axe after all!"

He stepped forward, bent down, and wiped his hand across the monster's body.

The corpse began to decay rapidly until it turned into dust and drifted away.

The colorful numbers in Gilan's eyes jumped from "13" to "23".

Only 10 Mystery Points? He felt quite displeased.