Rian's gaze shifted toward a point on the far side of the platform. He stood perfectly still, blue eyes narrowing—his Six Eyes catching the faintest movement behind a large wooden crate.
Ada, noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, turned her head to look as well.
From behind the pile of debris emerged a tall man cloaked in deep blue robes, embroidered with faint gold patterns that shimmered under the dim light.
He walked forward slowly yet with an air of commanding darkness.
His face was etched with age and decay, tinged with a sickly hue of greenish purple from the Plaga corruption coursing through his veins.
His eyes—black sclera with pale yellow-white irises—radiated a suffocating, oppressive presence.
In his right hand, he gripped a long metal staff adorned with the emblem of the Plaga.
Living tendrils of the parasite coiled around the staff, writhing subtly, as if to affirm the man's identity as a true high priest of the cult.
The figure was none other than Osmund Saddler, the supreme leader of the Los Iluminados cult — the mastermind behind all the chaos that had engulfed Valdelobos.
Saddler smiled calmly, a smile devoid of fear — only the arrogance of a fanatic who believed in the certainty of his divine destiny.
His gaze shimmered with an overwhelming aura of dominance, brimming with absolute conviction that victory was already within reach.
"At last... the two intruders stand upon the final stage."
His steps halted a few meters in front of them. His voice carried a deep, resonant tone that echoed through the steel structures and the looming shadow of the cranes.
"You two are nothing but fragments — flaws within the grand design of divinity," Saddler declared, slowly raising his staff. "But... I—"
BANG!
A gunshot split the air, sharp and merciless, cutting off his words. The sound of shattering metal rang out as the bullet struck Saddler square in the face, blood splattering across the platform.
Rian stood firm, arm extended, revolver still smoking as it pointed dead ahead. His expression was flat — only the faint curl of a smirk touched his lips.
"Sorry," Rian said casually. "This handsome guy isn't interested in hearing sermons from a priest who worships parasites."
Ada let out a quiet sigh — as if she had already expected this. Saddler slowly raised his head, his face beginning to twist and change.
Moments after the shot, the bullet was forced out of Saddler's forehead. The wound pulsed for a brief second… then closed rapidly, flesh and bone regenerating in mere seconds.
Rian only grinned. Without wasting a heartbeat, he squeezed the revolver's trigger again.
BANG!
The bullet tore through the air and struck Saddler's head, forcing him a step back.
In the next instant, Rian surged forward — his body a blur that sliced through the wind.
SLASH!
The fire axe in his hand cleaved into Saddler's left shoulder, cutting deep across his chest. Blood splattered violently, and torn flesh painted his dark-blue cult robe with a savage crimson hue.
Without pause, Rian lifted his revolver and pressed the muzzle against Saddler's mouth.
BANG!
The gun roared point-blank, obliterating Saddler's jaw and tearing through part of his skull, spraying blood and bone fragments into the air.
But the flesh knitted itself back together. The shattered bones cracked and twisted unnaturally as they reformed — a grotesque reminder that Saddler was no longer human.
Rian turned on his heel.
A brutal kick slammed into Saddler's gut, sending him crashing into a massive stack of wooden crates behind him.
Ada, standing not far away, merely crossed her arms and remarked casually, "Okay… that was pretty hard."
Saddler's body twitched. The sound of snapping bones and grinding flesh echoed as he rose from the wreckage, his robes torn and black blood dripping from wounds that refused to stay open.
Saddler roared in fury, lowering his head before glaring at Rian.
"You… foolish mortal!" he bellowed, his voice shaking with rage and fanatic zeal. "How dare you defile my most sacred vessel!"
Rian just shrugged, resting the axe on his shoulder.
With a lazy grin, he replied, "Sacred? Bro… what came out of your head wasn't light — it was blood. And trust me, this handsome guy knows that smell. Kinda reminds me of Davy Jones's locker!"
He reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulled out a small mirror, and began fixing his hair in the middle of the battlefield.
"Anyway…" Rian said, tilting his head slightly as he checked his best angle. "From every side, the only holy face here is mine. You're jealous, aren't you?"
Saddler roared, his fury erupting as his pupils shrank into sharp slits.
Perhaps unintentionally, Rian's Title effect — Sparkle — activated.
On the other hand, Saddler's body began to tremble violently. The sounds of cracking bones and swelling flesh echoed as the Plaga inside him lost control.
"You have chosen death, intruder!" he bellowed, his voice distorted by rage and mutation. "Rejoice… for you shall witness the true form of my divinity!"
His body stretched grotesquely; bones and flesh burst outward as insectoid legs and sharp appendages tore through his skin.
Saddler's mouth split open, revealing a massive central eye with a glowing yellow iris — the process of his final transformation had begun.
Ada, who had stepped closer to Rian, instinctively moved back a few paces. Drawing her pistol from the holster, she muttered, "Great… now he's leveling up."
Rian, still gazing into the mirror in his hand, suddenly froze in realization.
The Sparkle Title Effect… he had completely forgotten it — and accidentally triggered it.
With a dramatic gasp and overly theatrical movement, he tucked the small mirror back into his shirt pocket, then covered his face with one hand.
"By the grace of the Tooner of exhausted beauty… I forgot this skill activates whenever I look at myself!" he lamented, his tone dripping with exaggerated despair.
Beside the narcissistic man, Ada raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled.
"Special Skill Effect? Tooner of exhausted beauty?" she muttered under her breath. "What does that even mean?"
Rian glanced at her briefly, flashing his trademark "kind" smile.
"Of course it means something. Its effect is… kind of like forgetting to wear sunscreen in the middle of summer — it burns, it stings, and it makes people angry for no logical reason."
Ada tilted her head slightly, studying the narcissist as if trying to decode some form of advanced biological encryption. But no — this was far more complicated than that.
"What does sunscreen have to do with Saddler's rage?" she thought to herself, desperately searching for logic in that nonsense.
She'd met scientists who believed viruses brought enlightenment, and cultists who worshiped parasites… but this?
"This man… is like a failed experiment that somehow wandered into the worlds of fashion and firearms."
Ada's confusion deepened. But she knew — this wasn't the time to dive into the narcissist's sea of absurd logic. She could already feel herself getting pulled into his nonsense, and that was dangerous.
If she let it continue, Ada had a strong feeling Rian would start spouting even more ridiculous theories without end.
So she pushed the thought aside — because in front of them, Saddler's transformation had reached its peak.
The creature that now stood before them towered like a monarch of the underworld. Saddler's body was no longer human; he had become horror given shape.
From his back extended four massive insectoid legs, their carapaces hard as steel yet disturbingly flexible — each one ready to slash or impale in a single swift strike.
At their ends, the limbs tapered into spear-like biological blades, glistening wet under the pale moonlight.
His face had twisted beyond recognition; the jaw had split open sideways like some grotesque arthropod, revealing rows of serrated fangs that clattered together in a chilling rhythm.
The iris within his mouth glowed a burning yellow, while several additional eyes bulged from his shoulders and torso — as if the creature possessed sight in every direction.
Saddler's main body was a grotesque fusion of exposed muscle tissue and hardened, blackish-violet chitin, forming a natural armor that sheathed his chest and abdomen.
At the center of that chest pulsed a massive eye — the Plaga's core organ — throbbing rhythmically, serving as both the creature's control center and its greatest weakness.
Every movement he made echoed with a grinding metallic groan, like old steel dragged across stone. He was the final embodiment of despair and obsession — the perfect symbol of the Plaga's will surpassing the limits of the human form.
Saddler roared, and the sound was no longer human — it was a warped fusion of two creatures: an ancient beast's howl and an insectile shriek.
"This world is full of foolish humans…! War and greed!"
The voice vibrated like the hum of a colossal bee colony, accompanied by sickening clicks and chittering from the mutant's mouth and body.
The reverberating scream cut through metal and bone, making the air feel heavy—like rotting flesh swarmed by flies.
"You… weak, despicable humans, I will destroy you. Nothing can stop my sacred plan!"
....
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