At Night Owl headquarters, within a massive steel fortress, flames raged.
Countless people had been infected by the plague and transformed into Mutants. Their forms were twisted, their bodies covered in sticky gray-black diseased tissue that oozed foul-smelling mucus.
The streets had fallen into complete chaos, and the outsides of the buildings were covered in crumbling patches of infection.
Night Owl members in Starshine uniforms were fighting the plague monsters.
The plague monsters were no match for them, but the splattering mucus and airborne droplets were constantly corroding the Night Owl members' bodies.
They grew weaker and weaker, developing high fevers and coughing up blood.
Suddenly!
A fierce sword aura swept out, white light engulfing the entire street. Before the plague monsters rushing in along its path could react, their bodies were obliterated by the sword light, turning into countless chunks of gray-black rotten flesh that scattered across the ground.
The sword aura was unstoppable, tearing through the earth and cleaving buildings apart as it surged upward, finally shooting straight into the heavens.
With a deafening boom, the thick, gloomy clouds were forcibly split apart by the strike. Moonlight poured down through the rift, while the sword scar hanging high in the sky refused to fade for a long time.
Deep in the street, a one-armed man in green stood with his sword in hand, staring gravely at the "rotten flesh" not far away.
The rotten flesh that had been cut in two slowly wriggled. Cancer cells multiplied madly and gathered together, eventually forming a human shape.
He was a West Continent man wearing the robes of the Purityless Church. His skin was pale, his cheeks deeply sunken, his cheekbones protruding sharply, and dark bluish-black bruises lay heavy beneath his eye sockets.
He looked like a terminally ill patient on