Panic-stricken and choosing random paths, Lockhart no longer knew where he was. All around him was dense forest, and the only faint illumination came from the crimson moon hanging in the sky.
Deep within the silent forest, the occasional cries of birds and beasts rang out.
Listening to those sounds, Lockhart's tense state gradually eased a little, and he gulped down great breaths of air.
Although he possessed the physique of a barbarian, in recent years he had stayed by Duke Negan's side, indulging in food, drink, and pleasure without missing a single one, causing his physical condition to fall far short of what it had been before.
"They shouldn't have caught up yet, right?" Lockhart stared into the pitch-black forest. His heart suddenly trembled again for no reason, a chill spreading from his spine throughout his entire body, leaving his hands and feet icy cold.
Even now, he still had not clearly seen who exactly was hunting him, yet that invisible pressure made it hard for him to even breathe.
The other party seemed to be like a cat toying with a mouse, savoring the ridiculous sight of him fleeing in all directions.
At this moment, he truly wished he were a Sequence 5 Traveler from the Door Pathway.
If he were a Traveler, he would have already left this forest long ago, distancing himself from and shaking off the hunter behind him.
Unfortunately, he was not a Traveler.
Lockhart did not dare to stay in one place for too long. Soon, he continued weaving through the dense forest, until he finally arrived near a pool of water.
What should have been a breathtakingly beautiful scene instead gave him a sense of his fate coming to an end.
Tonight, he would die here. This pool of water would be his final resting place.
Lockhart stopped fleeing. He swept his gaze around and shouted loudly, "Come out. I know you're watching me from the shadows!"
At that moment, a slight rustling came from the trees not far away. Lockhart's eyes lit up. The small knife in his hand flew toward that direction, and at the same time, he twisted the space around that spot and corrupted the land there, trying to kill the lurking hunter in one fell swoop!
But in the end, he realized that what died under his consecutive attacks was merely a deer.
The true hunter had already arrived behind him without a sound, piercing his heart with a single sword thrust. Just as he tried to counterattack, a terrifying mental shock surged into his mind, plunging him into dizziness.
Lockhart used the last of his strength, trying to distort the concept between the opponent and himself, forcing the other party to share half of the damage with him.
Yet his Beyonder ability failed to produce the effect it should have. Instead, it was nullified.
When he tried again to plunge the surrounding space into chaos to block the opponent's attacks, the blood throughout his body was continuously drained away, especially from the spot where his heart had been pierced. Blood gushed out in a stream, and very quickly his limbs grew weak, leaving him with no strength left to resist.
Lockhart collapsed forward, his body writhing and struggling on the ground. At last, he turned his head and looked at the one who had hunted him down tonight.
The hunter wore blood-red armor and held a golden great sword in his hand. Around his body, a blood-red vortex continued to absorb Lockhart's blood.
What concerned Lockhart the most was the black cloak draped over this mysterious person's back.
It was filled with the pressure of the Black Emperor pathway, the suppressive aura of a high Sequence.
"The Black Emperor Card..."
Lockhart wanted to shout these words, but unfortunately, he no longer had the strength. From the moment he missed his initial chance, he had already lost any possibility of surviving.
That panicked, helpless deer he had killed was just like him now, lying on the ground, at the mercy of others.
When a streak of golden sword light swept across his throat, Lockhart completely closed his eyes.
Then another sword cut open Lockhart's body and took away his Beyonder characteristic.
The pool of water reflected the crimson moon and the starlight in the sky. It was beautiful within the quiet forest. The only thing that felt uncomfortable and out of place was the headless corpse, mangled and bloody, lying beside the pool.
This was the scene the members of the Church of the Lord of Storms saw when they followed the disturbance in the forest and arrived here.
After verification, this was indeed the corpse of Lockhart Siakam, the one who had assassinated Duke Negan.
"He actually died here. Who could have killed him?"
"Could it have been Grand Duke Drink Augustus?"
"No, it wouldn't be him. If he wanted to make a move, Lockhart would never have left the manor."
"His head and Beyonder characteristic were taken. It should be the work of an enemy."
"Could the other party have been after the huge bounty from the Negan family?"
After some discussion, they felt this possibility was the greatest.
How many terrifying Beyonders were hidden in Backlund was something no one knew. The appearance of a Beyonder who could kill Lockhart Siakam was not impossible.
One hundred thousand pounds, even those lunatics from the Aurora Order would be tempted to make a move.
"If no one goes to the Negan family to claim the bounty, we'll treat it as the reward for this operation."
"If someone does claim it, then such a terrifying Beyonder must be recorded."
"But what if it was a powerful Beyonder hired by the Negan family themselves?"
"..." The scene fell silent once more.
If that were truly the case, then the hundred-thousand-pound bounty would have nothing to do with them at all.
"The royal family needs to give an explanation for this matter."
"Indeed. They need to pay a certain price."
The people of the Church of the Lord of Storms quickly regained their good mood. After being busy for most of the day, they should at least get some compensation for their hard work.
...
Late at night, Greg was still unable to fall asleep in his room. Through the window that hadn't been shut tightly, someone suddenly threw in a lump of something.
He hurriedly lit the room lamp and cautiously approached the object. When he got closer, he finally saw clearly that it was a head.
Lockhart Siakam's head!
This man, once his father's most trusted secretary and the murderer who had assassinated his father, now was reduced to nothing more than a single head lying before him.
After the shock came joy, unrestrained, exhilarating joy, so strong he wanted to burst out laughing.
But Greg clenched his fists and held it in. He stepped closer, stomped one foot onto the head, then another, venting his rage.
After venting his anger, the head no longer bore any recognizable features of Lockhart Siakam. It was a bloody mess, with some parts already reduced to a pulp of flesh.
Greg dragged over a chair, planted one foot on Lockhart Siakam's head, and gazed out at the pitch-black night beyond the window.
Who had helped him avenge his father, he already had the answer in his heart.
Hastur Campbell, his good friend.
Although he had never seen Hastur make a move, he had always felt that Hastur was far from simple, perhaps having long since embarked on the path of an Beyonder.
Last time, Hastur had personally promised him that he would help him take revenge. Tonight, Lockhart Siakam's head appeared in his room.
This was Hastur deliberately leaving him the chance to vent his hatred.
"Hastur, in this matter, even my own uncle hasn't treated me as well as you have."
A trace of self-mockery curled at the corner of Greg's mouth. Within the Negan family, it seemed there were already two different voices.
He sat alone in the room until dawn, until the butler knocked on the door and called out to him, saying that people from the Church of the Lord of Storms had come to visit.
Only then did Greg stand up from the chair. After stretching lazily, he cast a disgusted glance at the unrecognizable head on the floor, then kicked it along toward the doorway.
After opening the door, under the butler's horrified gaze, Greg kicked the head over the railing. It traced an arc through the air before falling toward the first-floor hall.
"Clean it up."
After giving the order to the butler, Greg stepped down toward the first-floor hall, leaving bloody footprints behind him.
The moment he saw the members of the Church of the Lord of Storms, he spoke with a smile. "You came here today, was it to look for this head?"
"Lord Greg, you..."
"Sorry. There are some things I don't want to spell out, but my father's death is also related to your incompetence."
Greg directly cut off the questions the Church of the Lord of Storms members were about to ask, then continued, "I will donate ten thousand pounds to the Holy Wind Cathedral in my personal capacity. As for the other bounty, I've already paid it to the one who truly killed the assassin."
"We just didn't expect Lord Greg to know such a formidable individual."
"After this incident, I've realized one thing. No matter how great one's power and influence are, they're still inferior to the strength one can firmly grasp in one's own hands."
"As for Duke Negan's matter, we've already investigated some leads."
The members of the Church of the Lord of Storms did not choose to hide anything, recounting their actions from the previous night one by one.
When he heard the name Grand Duke Drink Augustus, Greg did not show excessive agitation. He merely nodded and said, "Thank you for your hard work. I will additionally donate ten thousand pounds to each of the three major churches."
"..."
The members of the Church of the Lord of Storms were stunned. They had long known that the Negan family was wealthy, but donations starting at ten thousand pounds with a casual remark, that was truly extravagant.
...
As evening approached, Hastur finally woke up from bed.
Last night, in order to deal with Lockhart Siakam, he had no choice but to transform into a hunter and rush about all the way.
In addition to using the War Emblem, he had also brought along the Black Emperor Card to suppress Lockhart's Beyonder abilities.
Fortunately, the outcome was gratifying. Lockhart died by his hand, and the Beyonder characteristic of the Mentor of Disorder was taken by him.
This was the best spoils from last night.
In order not to spend the night with a severed head, Hastur had thrown Lockhart's head through Greg's window in the middle of the night.
He believed that Greg would understand who had sent him this "gift," and that he would take care of all the aftermath himself.
If his guess was correct, Greg would not contact him for a long time. This was the tacit understanding between good friends.
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T/N: Guys, I'm back, was busy with my other works :)