As Klein spoke, he strode forward, pretending to wipe his hand on the pirate's clothes.
The pirate immediately recoiled. "Screw you! Stay the hell away from me!"
Klein chuckled and veered off to the side, all while carefully observing the layout of the pirate ship—where the crew was stationed, where the captain's cabin was located, and the entrance to the hold below deck.
After one full circuit, Klein reached a conclusion: If he wanted to rescue the women, there was only one way—to eliminate the witch captain in one swift, overwhelming strike and use that shock to suppress the rest of the crew.
Otherwise, once things devolved into a protracted fight, not only would he fail to save anyone, but he himself would fall into danger.
With that in mind, he stopped stalling and strode toward the captain's cabin. He knocked on the wooden door. "Captain."
"What is it?"
The reply was icy cold. Through the light shining from the cabin, Klein saw a silhouette approach the door.
Creaaak.
Just as the door opened, two bolts of lightning suddenly flashed in Klein's pupils—this was the Psychic Piercing granted by Creeping Hunger's herded soul!
Tracy hadn't expected such a sudden assault the moment she opened the door. Her elegant jaw jerked upward sharply, as if she were about to let out a scream of excruciating pain.
But the next second, her figure shattered like an illusion. The full-length mirror behind her cracked with a snap, then rapidly collapsed into shards that scattered across the floor.
Mirror Substitution!
Tracy reappeared in the corner on the same side as the mirror. Klein, however, gave her no time to breathe. His left palm—gloved, pallid with a faint green hue—switched to Zombie's soul, muscles tensing, strength surging, and his fist slamming down like a hammer.
Tracy rolled across the floor with agility that defied her gender and refined appearance, narrowly dodging the devastating blow. But in the same instant, three paper-formed throwing knives and an air bullet sealed off every path of retreat.
Pa.
Her figure abruptly shrank, transforming into a snapped black rod, then instantly reappeared in a diagonal corner. Her mouth opened slightly, and an invisible shriek rang out.
From within her body surged a spectral, blue-tinged halo. Wherever it passed, layers of frost formed and spread outward in ripples.
Simultaneously, more than a dozen black flames condensed into bullets and shot toward Klein. In an instant, they riddled his body like a sieve and began rapidly melting him—
But his form turned into scraps of paper.
When he reappeared, Klein was already back at the entrance of the captain's cabin. Creeping Hunger shifted forms once again, and he raised both arms in a Hug the Sun gesture.
Boom!
A grand and radiant beam of light descended from the heavens, wrapped in golden flames, enveloping the entire captain's cabin.
Sensing the terrifying divine aura, Tracy's expression flickered. A wave of faint blue light surged from within her, and with a fluid motion, she sealed herself within a massive, transparent crystalline shell of ice.
The golden-flame pillar dropped straight down the next moment, swiftly melting the thick block of ice—but it failed to truly injure her.
Klein's eyes flickered. He knew it was time to retreat.
Even with Creeping Hunger, this was still a Sequence 6 challenging a Sequence 5. A surprise assassination had failed to end it in the opening moments. Now that his opponent had stabilised, he'd be the one in danger if he lingered.
Not to mention, the most terrifying part of a Sequence 5 Witch was her invisible and omnipresent Diseases.
Tracy's voice, slightly hoarse, rang out:
"Who are you?!"
Klein grinned. "Gehrman Sparrow."
Tracy's pupils contracted sharply. "Impossible!"
Her reaction caught Klein slightly off guard, but he didn't dwell on it. He immediately seized the opportunity to switch Creeping Hunger's ability again:
Frenzy of the Psychiatrist!
Already emotionally agitated, Tracy nearly broke down under the attack and briefly lost all rationality.
Snap!
Klein snapped his fingers.
An air bullet shot across the cabin, heading straight for Tracy's still-twisted yet beautiful face.
Suddenly, a thick, jet-black strand of hair lashed out, deflecting the air bullet off-course. It struck Tracy's shoulder instead, tearing through flesh and exposing the white of bone beneath.
"Ahhh!"
Tracy screamed in agony. Black flames surged endlessly from her body, engulfing her completely.
Without mercy, Klein struck again with Frenzy, shattering the crystalline ice she had begun to condense for defence, pushing her once again into a state of mental collapse.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three more air bullets, equivalent in force to rifle rounds, tore toward Tracy's pale, beautiful head.
"Got her!"
Joy flickered in Klein's eyes.
But just then, a hand—smooth, delicate, and as white as jade—appeared in front of Tracy's face, intercepting all three air bullets. They struck the warm, soft palm—and failed to leave even a single mark.
"Ah, child…you really do make me worry."
A soft, melodious voice echoed in the air, its direction impossible to place. It sounded left, then right, ahead, then behind—
In the next instant, a white figure materialised at Tracy's side.
This newcomer was even more beautiful than Tracy, her features sweet and youthful, her charm restrained and playful—like a teenage girl who had yet to fully mature.
Klein's heart missed a beat. His spirituality suddenly boiled over.
The woman before him…was at least a demigod!
———
Bansy Harbour.
Two figures, one tall and one small, stepped out from the spirit world and appeared in front of the port's only still-lit building—the telegraph office.
The taller one was a bronze-skinned, medium-built middle-aged man with dark hair and brown eyes. The smaller was a black-haired girl with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a bob haircut.
Azik Eggers, and 'Miss Death' Priscilla.
"Hey, finally found you," said Medici with a grin. The crimson-armoured man, still stained with blood, looked cheerfully at the ominous building radiating danger. Then he stepped inside first. Priscilla followed, glancing curiously around.
"You sure the person you're looking for is here? Isn't this just a telegraph station?"
Medici's lips curved into a nostalgic smile. "But this is Bansy."
The moment the three stepped into the office, their surroundings changed drastically. In just a blink, they had arrived on a desolate island. A long stairway rose to its peak, where a black iron chair stood.
On either side of the steps were inverted candleholders—41 on the left, 40 on the right.
Where the wooden building had once been, now stood a massive sacrificial altar soaked with blood and strewn with white bones—who knew how many had died there?
Kneeling at the centre of the altar was a woman with a pale face and laboured breathing. She appeared gravely wounded, her body surrounded by mist-like, deadly pathogens.
If Klein were here, he would immediately recognise her—one of the women from the "Ladies' Circle." The kind that had remained utterly obscure from beginning to end—transparency among transparents.
"You're quite good at hiding, Panatiya," Medici sneered with arms folded.
Lady Despair—Panatiya—looked over calmly. "But in the end, you still found me, didn't you?"
After the Great Smog incident, Medici discovered that the Loen royal family had secretly handed the promised Conqueror's Beyonder Characteristic not to the Demoness Sect as agreed, but to one of their own Witches.
According to Medici's calculations, this transfer should have only happened when George III performed his advancement ritual to Sequence 0. But the sudden turn of events—the royal assassinations and political unrest—forced George III to seek powerful allies sooner than expected.
The Demoness Sect, clearly, was one such potential ally—and the only thing that could move them would be that very Conqueror's Characteristic.
Upon confirming this, Medici went straight to Katarina. After a match of wit and power, Katarina admitted the characteristic wasn't with her.
Following the trail, he eventually concluded that it had been taken by this Lady Despair—Panatiya—the very same witch who had triggered the smog with unknown methods and then vanished entirely from all known locations.
Medici had lost her trail—until he caught the faintest whiff of the Conqueror's aura aboard the White Agate. Chasing her scent across the seas, he finally arrived at Bansy Harbour and confirmed that the witch had hidden herself here.
"Heh…clever. Real clever," Medici chuckled darkly. "You thought to use the aura of 'City of Calamity' that still clings to Bansy to mask the presence of the Conqueror's Characteristic… and then quietly smuggle it back to the Witch Sect's headquarters."
"Too bad your luck ran out. Did you forget whose territory Bansy used to be?"
Panatiya smiled faintly, her expression serene. "Why do you assume it was luck that brought you here? Isn't it possible…we lured you in on purpose?"
Medici's eyes narrowed.
Panatiya let out a bitter laugh. "I'm sorry to tell you—the characteristic you're after…it's not with me."
"I only learned the truth after entering this place: that from the beginning, I was the one meant to be sacrificed. Despite all my efforts—taking special potions to make myself undetectable, setting up multiple escape plans just to evade your eyes…and the eyes of others…"
"Although a few unexpected things happened along the way, I still succeeded. But in the end, I realised—the more I did, the better I hid, the more suitable I became as bait."
"Because only then could I draw everyone's attention."
"So…even someone like you, a master of conspiracies and manipulation, still fell for it…didn't you?"
Medici's expression darkened, and two extra mouths suddenly sprouted from his cheeks. But before they could utter a sound, Medici forcefully suppressed them.
"Let's go."
He turned to leave.
"You're not going anywhere, Your Excellency."
Blood began to pour from Panatiya's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Her hair writhed like a nest of serpents, transforming into venomous tongues lined with fangs. Her face and body twisted, smooth scales sprouting across her skin. Her frame swelled grotesquely as a rust-red poisonous fog surged toward them.
Priscilla jumped in fright and hid behind Azik. "Mr. Azik, she's going full Mythical Form already? Isn't she afraid of dying?"
Medici frowned. "Forget the talk. Just teleport us out."
Azik shook his head slightly. "The space here is…strange. I can't traverse the spirit world to leave."
"Because of City of Calamity's lingering influence?" Medici flexed his fingers. "Then we'll just have to finish her off first."
His figure blurred as he dashed forward. His crimson hair trailed behind like burning flames. A fiery orange-red spear coalesced in his palm and, with a mighty throw, he shouted:
"Let's end this quickly!"
———
On the Black Death.
The moment Klein confirmed the white-robed woman's identity as at least a demigod, he used Flaming Jump without hesitation.
But this time, he only managed to land just outside the captain's cabin. He staggered, nearly collapsing.
His strength felt completely drained. His chest burned like a coal had lodged inside it—agonising and hot. His consciousness began to blur.
But he didn't give up. He bit down on his tongue hard, using the sharp pain to stay awake, then stumbled toward the ship's edge.
A few pirates tried to intercept him—he blasted their heads open with air bullets before they could get close.
Katarina leisurely walked to the doorway. With a flick of her wrist, she sent out a fingernail-sized black flame, which instantly ignited Klein as he reached the edge of the ship.
Fwoosh.
He turned into a charred paper figurine again.
Moments later, bang bang bang—several air bullets flew straight for Katarina's head. This time, she didn't block them. She tilted her neck slightly and let them shoot past.
Then came the sound of a splash.
"How interesting," Katarina smiled, cocking her head. "So that was the Gehrman Sparrow you told me about? Even in a situation like that, he dared strike at me. He's certainly crazy enough. Just…not strong enough."
The unspoken implication: You nearly got done in by this kind of trash? Pathetic.
Tracy, pale and clutching her injured shoulder, remained silent.
She was beginning to realise: that man…might not be Gehrman Sparrow at all. She had heard of people impersonating Fire Fist Ace and Gehrman Sparrow recently—but this one…didn't seem quite like the others.
"If you ever let someone like this 'Gehrman Sparrow' push you to the brink again," Katarina said coldly, "I won't step in next time. Because—"
Smack!
A bright red handprint appeared across her flawless cheek. Her head snapped back from the force.
Instantly, black flames ignited around her. She spun, furious and alert, eyes scanning her surroundings. "Who?!"
"Good evening, Katarina."
A woman stepped out of the air as though she'd simply walked through a veil.
She wore a long black dress and looked to be in her early twenties. Her skin was flawless, her face not strikingly beautiful but peaceful, with a quiet, gentle smile.
———
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Link - (P)atre(o)n.c(o)m/ Iseeblack [Remove the brackets]