In the winter port district of Brillda, a biting wind swept through, carrying a light mist of fine snow.
Snow draped the staggered shipping containers, and heavy clouds cast a gloomy shadow over this grey zone tucked away in a corner of the city.
"Damn it!!"
A tall figure sprinted through the steel labyrinth of freight containers and narrow alleys.
At that moment, Maguire was doing everything in his power to evade the agents of the Imperial Special Operations Division hot on his heels.
Possessing a supple physique and moving with the agility of a leopard, Maguire wore a light-grey, cold-weather overcoat he had stolen after breaking out of prison the previous night. The outfit allowed him to blend into the bleak winter surroundings, making him difficult to spot.
He darted between shipping containers, scaling heights one second and slipping into the shadows the next.
To this moment, Maguire still had no idea why rubbings of Professor Landry's research documents had been in his home. Out of nowhere, Kestrel Nikolai had caught him red-handed alongside the elite forces of the Countermeasures Section.
Now, he grew increasingly certain that the one framing him was Dex!
Yet no matter how Maguire tried to explain it to that imperial lapdog Kestrel Nikolai, the man wouldn't listen. Nikolai utterly refused to believe Dex was the mole, hell-bent only on dragging Maguire into custody.
Maguire cursed furiously under his breath.
Rounding the corner of a deep alleyway, he caught sight of several dark silhouettes closing in fast from the corner of his eye. The heavy panting of the agents and the crunch of boots on snow carried through the frigid wind.
Pursuing him were the elite members of the Imperial Special Operations Division's Countermeasures Section.
Maguire knew all too well how difficult these highly trained imperial operatives were to deal with.
They wore dark-blue tactical combat suits and were outfitted with the most advanced magic engineering equipment from the Imperial Weapons Ministry.
Leading them was a tall squad leader with closely cropped hair.
"Search thoroughly! Director Dex issued orders: Maguire must be brought to justice today! We cannot allow him to disrupt the Moon God Festival!"
The squad leader barked commands through his communication magic card as he gave chase.
His voice was hoarse yet commanding, echoing through the desolate port.
Following their leader's orders, the agents methodically combed through the factory sector.
They knew Maguire's habits, and Commander Kestrel Nikolai had already anticipated his escape routes. The moment Maguire dared to strike back, they would converge and neutralize him immediately.
Though Maguire was a cunning fox who managed to slip through their fingers time and again with his superb counter-reconnaissance skills and clever use of terrain whenever cornered, his path was narrowing by the second. He was heading straight toward a dead end.
"..."
Maguire pressed his back against a precarious steel scaffold, then slipped into the narrow gap between two shipping containers.
His eyes constantly swept his surroundings, searching for any usable cover or breakthrough point.
Loose snow kicked up beneath his boots, yet he kept his balance effortlessly, cutting through the perilous steel jungle like the wind.
The gale howled across the wharves. The rust-red containers looked all the more sinister beneath the gloomy sky, punctuated now and then by the shrill caws of ravens.
A few minutes later.
Maguire finally gave the relentless squad of agents the slip for the moment, ducking into the secluded corner of a dark, narrow alley.
He leaned against a mottled brick wall, his burly frame coiled like a wolf evading hunters.
"Where are the reinforcements... Why haven't they arrived yet..."
Maguire gritted his teeth, suppressing the surging anxiety in his chest.
It was hardly surprising that the Blood Clan couldn't assist him during broad daylight, but according to the intel he had received, partners aligned with the Blood Clan were supposed to meet him.
He quickly surveyed his surroundings to plot his next escape route.
By the faint morning light, he analyzed the terrain.
Towering abandoned buildings stood like silent giants, their intricate networks of pipes weaving across the sky like spiderwebs, snaking between structures.
Maguire's gaze finally settled on a path leading toward the distant harbor. Flanked on both sides by dilapidated, rusted containers entwined with withered vines, it was practically one of the few viable routes remaining.
Yet his instincts told him that heading that way was also fraught with danger.
There might already be an imperial cordon waiting for him.
Still, if he didn't move now, he would be boxed in here in no time.
With every passing moment, the encirclement would only tighten.
Judging by the scale of the manhunt and the fierce momentum of the agents, they were determined to bring him down today at any cost.
Maguire forced himself to calm down.
As the captain of the Operations Team, rational thinking in moments of crisis was far more crucial than blind action.
As long as he managed to escape to Blood Moon City, he would sooner or later have a chance to bring down Duke Dex and Kestrel Nikolai, staging a glorious comeback!
Having made up his mind, Maguire rose quietly and darted into that unknown path like a flash of light-grey lightning.
The instant he moved, sure enough, the distant footsteps of the pursuing agents closed in behind him like shadows clinging to his heels.
Just as Maguire was mapping out a new escape route in his head, a sharp screech tore through the air.
A round of new military-issue ammunition forged from anti-magic steel whizzed past his ear, slamming into the container behind him, kicking up a shower of rust flakes and ringing with a concussive blast.
"Damn it, Nikolai even brought out this kind of new hardware."
Maguire cursed under his breath, instinctively swerving to the side and narrowly dodging a second round.
It seemed the agents had already pinpointed his movements and were lying in wait atop the containers.
Relying on his astonishing reaction speed and nimble footwork, Maguire dodged and weaved through the sniper fire.
He knew he had to break the sniper's line of sight and find cover.
Lunging toward a cluster of dilapidated containers, he smashed open a heavy door and darted inside.
Amid a piercing screech of grinding metal, Maguire squeezed into the interior of the container, barely evading another volley of sniper support from the imperial agents.
He let out a long breath, resting his back against the freezing metal wall as he felt his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
Deep within the dark alley, several figures clad in Imperial Special Operations Division combat gear closed in rapidly.
The short-haired squad leader at the front swept a cold gaze across the area, issuing commands into his communicator.
"Section Chief Nikolai, requesting backup. All units of Squad Two, be advised: the target has relocated to Sector Four. Repeat, the target has relocated to Sector Four. Sniper teams, take your positions immediately. Capture him at all costs."
The mechanical whir of gear and the crunch of footsteps intertwined, sounding exceptionally harsh on this quiet winter festival morning.
None of Brillda's citizens had any inkling of the fierce battle raging within this grey zone of the port district.
Maguire's superhuman physical prowess made him too fast to track with the naked eye, and his route took an unexpected turn.
Rather than continuing to break out toward the periphery of the port, he charged without hesitation straight in the direction of the city's bustling downtown core.
"Is he out of his mind? That bastard is heading for the commercial district!"
The squad leader froze upon spotting Maguire's trajectory, then instantly realized his intent.
If a riot broke out in the bustling downtown, not only would the mission be considered a failure, but they would also face severe disciplinary action.
"We must intercept him before he reaches the downtown area!"
The agents accelerated urgently in response.
Yet Maguire already knew this area like the back of his hand. He deftly navigated through the maze of narrow alleys and tall buildings, leaping onto weathered fire escapes and darting through narrow culverts.
*Boom! Boom!*
Several muffled explosions rang out, and billowing smoke swallowed the alleyway in an instant. The shockwaves shook loose bricks and tiles from the walls, sending snow flying from the ground into sweeping white arcs through the air.
The sudden intensification of firepower caught Maguire off guard with a heavy blow. He rolled across the ground several times before dispelling the momentum.
He looked up with sharp vigilance.
"Nikolai..."
Crouching in the shadow of a container, Maguire's chest heaved violently, plumes of white mist spilling from between his clenched teeth.
He scanned his surroundings. Over a dozen Countermeasures Section agents had surrounded him on all sides.
The various squads had finally rendezvoused.
"Maguire, this is the end of the line. Make things easy and come back with me, or do you want to suffer a bit first?"
Kestrel Nikolai stepped out from the rear of the squad, the brim of his cap pulled low as always. The magitech firearm [Blazing Light] attached to his arm gleamed with cold metallic luster.
He raised a hand to signal the agents beside him, ready to open suppressive fire on Maguire at any moment.
"Heh... heh..."
Maguire responded with a chilling laugh.
"You filthy lower life-forms... you have no idea what you're up against!"
Power roared within his body, his heightened nerves set ablaze by the desperate urge to survive.
The next instant, fierce flames erupted between the containers!
Maguire struck without warning, lunging at Nikolai like a bird of prey or a hound, determined to tear his throat out.
Nikolai had no intention of meeting him head-on. He stepped back, and his squad's magitech barrier snapped open.
The rest of the elite agents joined the fray, deploying standard-issue imperial magitech devices around the containers to form a pale-blue crystalline net that completely deflected Maguire's offensive.
An invisible pressure field descended, instantly making Maguire feel as though every bone and limb were bound by intangible shackles, his movements turning sluggish.
"You even brought out the [Gravity Field]?!" Maguire roared at Nikolai.
"You have no chance of winning," Kestrel Nikolai replied coldly.
Behind him, an agent flanked by magitech automatons controlled the puppets to quietly spread out an [Optical Maze]. Vibrant magical projections flooded Maguire's vision, making it impossible to distinguish illusion from reality.
The silhouettes of the operatives flickered in and out of the light and shadow, rendering them entirely unpredictable to Maguire.
A suffocating sense of urgency flooded Maguire's heart.
Before he could devise a countermeasure, a combatant perched atop a high container hoisted a heavy mechanical cannon, clasping his hands together as wings of light rapidly expanded within the weapon's grooves.
The radiant glow at the cannon's muzzle descended like divine retribution, hurtling down toward Maguire's head with the force of an avalanche!
The impact reverberated across the entire port, shaking the earth like thunder crashing between the containers.
Dust billowed into the air, and gravel sprayed in all directions.
A massive crater several meters wide was carved into the center of the battlefield.
At the bottom of the crater, muddy, steaming scorched earth nearly swallowed Maguire's form whole.
"..."
Kestrel Nikolai didn't lower his guard for a second, his gaze fixed like a hawk locking onto its prey.
Within the crater, Maguire slowly rose to his feet.
His jacket was shredded to tatters, but he had barely suffered any severe injuries. His eyes burned with an even brighter, furious flame.
Nikolai knew well that a Tier 7 combatant like Maguire couldn't be dealt a fatal blow so quickly; it would take a prolonged battle to whittle his vitality down to the point where he could be captured.
Flames erupted from time to time in the factory sector belonging to the Brillda Mafia, illuminating the murky sky with blazing clarity.
According to the treaty with the military, if a fugitive entered Brillda Mafia territory, the mafia was not permitted to interfere with military operations.
Although several grey zones outside the capital city-state's barrier were historical remnants, after the pacification and reconciliation following the "Day of Bloodshed" years ago, these areas had become neutral zones specially granted by the Creti Empire.
"Nikolai, I'm going to tear you to pieces!!"
Besieged by the magitech agents, Maguire fought on relentlessly.
Yet as time wore on, his frustration mounted.
Kestrel Nikolai and his agents coordinated seamlessly. Their layered perimeter restricted Maguire's movements more and more, making both parrying and counterattacking an uphill battle.
Maguire ground his teeth, desperately searching for a way out. But wherever he looked, there were only the dark muzzles of heavy cannons and the barriers deployed by magitech gear.
Suddenly, a flash of silver light tore through the air, sinking into the formation of agents besieging Maguire in the blink of an eye.
Before anyone could react, the bizarre liquid metal raged through the Countermeasures Section personnel like an unleashed beast.
Bloodcurdling shrieks rose one after another as fresh blood splattered across the steel walls of the containers.
The attacked agents looked like cakes with bites taken out of them; their torsos and lower limbs vanished in an instant, leaving behind mutilated remains that lost all signs of life.
The other agents who reacted in time suffered minor injuries at most.
"Defensive positions! Take cover!" Kestrel Nikolai shouted sharply, his expression turning grim with shock.
The agents withdrew rapidly, putting distance between themselves and that horrifying silver liquid, falling into guarded stances.
Magitech weapons flickered with ominous light in their hands, illuminating this bloody arena.
Maguire was equally stunned at first, but his shock swiftly turned into wild laughter.
Footsteps echoed from the other end of the containers.
Looking over, one could see a figure clad in silver-white vestments walking forward at a leisurely pace, trailed by several high clerics in similar attire.
He stood there, lifting a finger of one hand to control the silver alchemical beast. Draped in pure white robes, he looked like a statue at once holy and sinister. That pure white was no symbol of flawless purity, but a morbid, sickly pallor—the very color of death.
A string of black beads hung around his neck, shifting and clacking softly against his chest as if alive. In his hand, he held a silver staff shaped like a coiled serpent's spine, crowned by a raven with outstretched wings.
The hem of his robes trailed behind him, carving a long furrow in the snow.
"Nikolai, can you feel it? This chill is the harbinger of your grave today,"
he spoke, his voice low and melodic like midnight chimes, carrying a trace of bewitchment.
"I hear you've been looking for me. Well, here I am."
With their appearance, the air grew viscous and heavy, every breath tinged with the scent of acid rain.
The combatants of the Imperial Special Operations Division instinctively sensed the danger. The squad leader's combat goggles had already brought up the appraisal information for the silver liquid organism:
[Decay Split Beast]
[Category: Summon Card]
[Grade: Orange Epic]
[Attribute: Alchemy / Corrosion]
[Tier: 7]
[Effect: Grants 90% immunity to physical attacks. Contact attacks and being attacked upon contact trigger an effect that devours living matter and splits off new, smaller entities. Lasts for 1 hour.]
[Note: Merge with me, and receive new life.]
"Montillo, Holy Son of Decay..."
The squad leader's pupils shrank, his face darkening terribly.
As a subordinate who had followed Nikolai in investigating the recent string of murders, he was all too familiar with this figure.
A notorious outlaw on the wanted list belonging to the evil Resurrection Church had boldly come looking for them on the very day of the Moon God Festival.
"So you truly were colluding all along."
Kestrel Nikolai glared at the scene, a mix of cold rage in his eyes.
He had been hunting the Decay Branch for a long time, and their objective clearly went beyond mere retaliation against the Imperial Special Operations Division.
What the Decay Branch truly wanted today was to rescue Maguire and slaughter them in the process.
"Kestrel, aren't you happy to see me?"
The corners of Montillo's mouth curled into an unnatural, grotesque grin.
With a flick of his pale finger, the silver liquid on the ground writhed and converged, spitting out a split entity the size of an upper torso—bearing the exact face of the operative who had just been devoured.
"Do not resist. Yield. Fall into death's embrace and attain eternal peace."
Montillo spread his arms, a half-mocking smile on his face.
Behind him, the high clerics braced themselves to annihilate the Countermeasures Section.
"..."
Kestrel Nikolai didn't panic. He slowly surveyed his surroundings, the scars of battle and fatigue evident on his men.
"Whatever score is settled between us, it won't be on your terms," Nikolai said coldly.
The elite magitech agents fell into battle formation, training their weapons on the fanatic cultists of the Resurrection Church.
At this moment, Maguire's fate was no longer the priority.
Defending the dignity of the Empire and crushing this cesspool of conspiracy took precedence over all else.
"Maguire, get up."
At Montillo's command, the silver alchemical beast bolted toward the imperial operatives.
"You're finally here."
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Maguire got to his feet and looked toward Kestrel Nikolai with a smirk.
However arrogant these fools had been earlier was how utterly despairing they would be in moments.
Pity was, these Countermeasures Section agents wouldn't even get the chance to witness the true terror lurking deep within the Empire today.
Blind loyalty would only earn them an unmourned grave!
Heavy gunfire erupted, and smoke billowed once again.
The entire wharf descended into absolute chaos.
With Montillo's entry, the tide of battle shifted drastically.
This spiritual leader of the cult seemed to carry karmic hellfire, igniting the fanaticism of the Resurrection Church believers.
Howling and brandishing their weapons, they threw themselves at the imperial agents like bloodthirsty beasts.
"Prioritize maintaining the Gravity Field! Don't get greedy trying to kill the high clerics—focus on keeping eyes on the two Tier 7s!"
Kestrel Nikolai gritted his teeth, commanding his men in the counteroffensive.
Facing overwhelming numbers and a ferocious assault from the high clerics, the imperial operatives quickly found themselves in a bitter struggle.
Yet that wasn't the deadliest part. The most terrifying factor was undeniably Montillo and his silver alchemical beast when facing weaker foes; the moment casualties occurred, the breach would snowball, rapidly allowing his alchemical beast to divide into more entities and shatter their formation completely.
Kestrel Nikolai stared at the acidic mist rising from the harbor ground.
Montillo's own corrosive spells were all wide-area attacks that even magitech barriers struggled to fully repel.
Montillo swung his staff, and pale-green haze shot forth like venomous serpents, twisting and corroding even the air in their wake.
Within the corrosive fog, the agents' defensive line began to falter as they coughed up blood in agony.
"Weren't you having fun beating down an Operations Team captain earlier?!"
The shift in the battlefield gave Maguire his opening.
Taking advantage of the agents being caught between two fronts, Maguire struck ruthlessly.
His iron fist slammed into the nearest operative. Amid the sickening crunch of shattering bone, the man was sent hurtling backward, crashing heavily into a shipping container.
"Fill the gap!"
Nikolai knew things were dire, but he had no room to worry about anything else; he could only direct his combatants to shore up the perimeter.
"Nikolai, did you ever imagine you'd see this day?"
Maguire laughed malevolently, his eyes flashing with the thrill of vengeance.
"Petty villain..."
Nikolai ignored his jeers.
All that mattered right now was finding a way to break through.
If anyone could help them now, it would only be Barton, the leader hidden deep within the Brillda Mafia.
Someone as powerful as the former Praetorian Guard Commander Barton Hall might be able to change the tide, but Barton had severed ties with the military long ago and would never interfere in their disputes.
"You're not counting on the neutral mafia stepping in to save you, are you?"
Montillo sneered, his mana condensing into a vast web as a tide of corrosion crashed down toward Nikolai.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Kestrel Nikolai knew that fighting to the bitter end meant certain death.
He gritted his teeth and made a decision.
"All units, fall back! Regroup!"
Nikolai signaled the surviving operatives to evacuate the battlefield as quickly as possible, break through into the city, and restore communication signals.
Once they entered the city, they could call for reinforcements. Even if it was too late to save them, they could bottle up these cultists in the grey zone and wipe them out.
"Don't be in such a rush to leave."
Montillo chuckled softly. More toxic miasma surged from his staff, snapping at the heels of the scattering agents.
Several operatives were caught. The poisonous mist ate into their flesh, rapidly slowing them down until the high clerics caught up, dragging them into renewed skirmishes.
"Nikolai, not even the gods can save you now."
Maguire closed in with a mocking smirk, enjoying the spectacle.
After being hunted for so long, he could finally stand before Nikolai unimpeded.
"..."
Kestrel Nikolai gritted his teeth in silence.
He still had a few trump-card magitech devices on him. Even if they couldn't pose a lethal threat to Maguire, he would fight to the very last breath.
Surrender was simply not an option.
Maguire raised his fist, preparing to deliver the killing blow.
Suddenly, the wind howled behind him!
The next instant, the world spun around Maguire. Like a kite with a severed string, he was sent flying, crashing violently into a shipping container.
The container shattered on impact, toppling like dominoes and gouging massive craters into the ground.
"Who's there?"
Montillo halted as well, eyeing the uninvited guest with sharp vigilance.
As the dust cleared, a man in black stood quietly in the alleyway of the mafia's territory.
"Understood. I've arrived."
The man hung up a specialized mafia communication device designed for shielded zones; it was impossible to tell whom he had been speaking with.
He fixed his gaze on Montillo and Maguire. With his back to the morning light, his features were cast in shadow, save for a pair of icy-blue eyes that shone piercingly against the snowy backdrop.
"Barton...?"
Nikolai's eyes widened, staring at the figure in disbelief.
This dangerous figure of Brillda—the boss of the Brillda Mafia.
In Brillda, he was the underground sovereign who struck terror into smugglers and made the police look the other way.
Why would he break the rules to help an imperial agent?
"I'll explain later."
Barton didn't turn back to look at Nikolai; there was no need to let the enemy overhear their conversation.
He simply strode forward, the faint scrape of metal reaching everyone's ears.
It was the soft clinking of various blades sheathed at his waist, their cold edges glimmering faintly through the wind and snow.
Gradually, the shadows receded from Barton, revealing his dark-grey hair and ruthless eyes.
He wore a pure black trench coat cinched with a brown leather belt, layered over a black shirt and vest. The cuffs and hem were trimmed with dark-red embroidery, allowing him to ignore terrain and cross any obstacle with ease.
Beneath that black cloak and trench coat was likely an arsenal of specialized magitech vibration daggers.
Before the words had even settled, the figure of Mafia Boss Barton enlarged infinitely in the enemies' pupils.
In the very next frame of perception, Barton was already right in front of Montillo, his movement devoid of sound or windup.
Barton struck with dazzling speed. He didn't even draw his weapons; relying purely on combat instincts, he clamped down on Montillo's staff and Maguire's incoming fist simultaneously.
Crossing his arms, two small daggers drew a cross before him, replaced by a tempest of biting sword aura that crisscrossed into a net, slashing toward both men's chests.
A deafening metallic clash reverberated through the port, shaking the ground.
Maguire and Montillo were thrown back at the same time, carving two long trenches into the ground and leaving countless fissures across the concrete.
Yet Barton stood firm, faint blade phantoms swirling around him, clean cuts visible even through the drifting snowflakes.
"You shouldn't have interfered..."
Montillo leaned on his staff, having barely blocked the slash with a barrier.
Maguire was noticeably less composed than Montillo, a gruesome blade wound already carved across his torso.
Without time to catch his breath, Maguire retaliated with all his might, his fists moving like lightning, tearing afterimages through the air as they bombarded Barton.
Barton and Maguire clashed once again among the containers, every exchange accompanied by the booming crash of severed metal, sounding exceptionally jarring against the serene winter festival outside.
Not far away, Montillo's face turned dark as stagnant water.
His icy gaze locked onto Nikolai, sickly green mana pooling into a swirling vortex in his hand, reeking of corrupted blood.
"..."
Alarm bells rang in Nikolai's mind. He could see that Montillo's sole target was him.
The high clerics who had been locked in combat with the imperial operatives began shifting their formation, converging toward Montillo.
Disregarding their own casualties, they hemmed the agents in, severing all support to Nikolai!
As long as they decapitated Nikolai, the commander, the fighting capacity of the Imperial Special Operations Division's elite would plummet.
"Maguire, keep Barton occupied! The rest of you, cover me while I kill that imperial dog!" Montillo ordered.
This mafia boss Barton was indeed monstrously strong.
Yet it didn't matter. His true objective was executing Commander Nikolai.
No matter how formidable Barton was, he couldn't hold down both of them alone.
"Got it!" Maguire bellowed in fury, moving on command.
It would have been a blessing if Barton hadn't stabbed Nikolai in the back.
There was no reason for the Brillda Mafia to help an intelligence chief like Nikolai!
Maguire launched a frenzied assault to pin Barton down, every punch carrying the force of wind and thunder, threatening to drown Barton in raw momentum.
At the same time, the high clerics surged forward, suppressing the agents to buy Montillo time to kill Nikolai.
"..."
At the critical moment, Barton expressionlessly glanced at Nikolai's situation, drawing a half-circle through the air with his arm. Dozens of razor-sharp blades burst from his cloak.
Wherever the blades passed, shipping containers were sliced cleanly in two.
Rust-eaten steel plates split like tofu, collapsing in a clattering heap.
Maguire was shredded by the air blades, covered in wounds and dripping with blood!
In a split second of combat, Barton hurled a barrage of throwing blades to force back both Maguire and the distant Montillo, while simultaneously flicking a crystal card straight toward Nikolai.
Kestrel Nikolai caught the mafia's crystal key securely.
Their eyes met briefly, and Nikolai understood Barton's intention in an instant.
With this, Nikolai could access the Port Hassel Building, the mafia headquarters.
Within the core district protected by restriction barriers, Nikolai would be far better equipped to evade the enemy's pursuit.
Nikolai didn't hesitate for a heartbeat. He pivoted on his heel and sprinted at top speed toward the Port Hassel Building.
Staying here wouldn't be much help to Barton, but if he ran, he could bait Montillo away according to the enemy's desires, giving Barton the upper hand and protecting his subordinates.
Either way, his only choice now was to trust Barton's judgment.
"Trying to run? Not that easy!"
Montillo sneered, picking up speed as he gave chase like an inescapable shadow.
While parrying Maguire's strikes, Barton hurled three crescent blades that locked onto Montillo with deadly precision.
Montillo grunted, grinding to an abrupt halt. He had no choice but to dodge the tracking magitech blades, finally ordering the silver alchemical beast to shield him, morphing into metallic armor to deflect the edges.
"Barton... just wait until we raze your mafia to the ground."
Montillo burned with killing intent, but he knew this was not the time for a slugfest with Barton.
Seeing Nikolai's figure pulling further away, Montillo gave chase without looking back.
Nikolai darted through the labyrinth of containers, pushing his limits to shake off the reaper behind him.
Montillo pursued relentlessly, his corrupted blood mana morphing into ravenous beasts that tore through the containers. Wherever they passed, steel melted and collapsed, littering the ground with debris.
In just a dozen seconds, the container yard was reduced to purgatory, strewn with shattered wreckage.
Eventually, Montillo came to a stop atop a shipping container, the biting wind whipping his silver robes.
He stood motionless, the eyes of a reaper scanning the steel forest for traces of his prey.
The place where they had fought earlier was indeed close to the plaza where the Port Hassel Building stood, which was why Barton had been able to arrive so quickly. Nikolai wasn't slow either, being an imperial assassin specialized in agility.
"Nikolai, you're like a trembling rabbit trying to hide before the hunter,"
Montillo spoke, his voice chillingly calm, yet laced with a bloodcurdling amusement.
Usually, it was Kestrel Nikolai hunting down the Decay Branch.
Now the roles were reversed.
He felt both immense pleasure and burning indignation.
"Do you truly think hiding behind this scrap metal will save you from me?"
Montillo stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching over the debris.
Wherever his corrosive aura reached, steel dissolved to powder and containers came crashing down.
While unleashing such wide-scale, indiscriminate attacks was taxing on mana and lacked concentrated lethality,
if Nikolai tried to wait him out, he would eventually run out of endurance and scurry out of his hole like a rat.
The silver liquid alchemical beast also rampaged through the area, tearing through cover in search of Kestrel Nikolai.
"Nikolai, the game ends here. This plaza is your burial ground."
Montillo slowly raised his staff, pointing it toward the Port Hassel Building looming in the distance.
The towering edifice pierced the clouds, standing solemn and majestic in the wind and snow, like an unreachable salvation.
He naturally knew Nikolai's plan.
Carrying the mafia boss's crystal key into the headquarters might indeed turn the tables.
Yet this distance was an insurmountable chasm for Nikolai. Montillo had no intention of letting him reach the Port Hassel Building to call the Imperial Special Operations Division for backup.
"No need to hide any longer. I'll finish you off before Barton finishes Maguire."
Montillo counted the seconds without even looking down.
A Tier 7 warrior like Maguire possessed abnormal resilience. Even if one couldn't count on Maguire defeating Barton, Barton wouldn't be able to shake him off anytime soon.
Just waiting around made Montillo's blood stir with impatience.
Nikolai's struggles struck him as utterly laughable.
If his [Decay Split Beast] could divide further, he could flush Nikolai out much faster.
Pity there weren't even any mafia guards on patrol today.
If there were disposable grunts, his alchemical beast could devour and convert them, spawning new entities to track Nikolai.
Or perhaps Barton hadn't sent his underlings out to die.
He couldn't even find living materials to fashion into artistic sculptures.
Ever since arriving in Brillda, Montillo had been holding back for far too long. Looking at those happy families while being unable to turn them into far more beautiful creations left his heart feeling utterly hollow.
"Human beings are born to decay. Only by being crafted into works of art can they attain eternity. Why does no one understand me? Why do you insist on labeling me a criminal...?"
Montillo's voice dripped with murderous impatience to tear Nikolai apart.
Unable to host a lavish feast, a fine dish like Nikolai would have to suffice to slake his thirst.
The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow broke the silence.
It instantly drew Montillo's attention.
He looked toward the mafia's Port Hassel Building.
"..."
Montillo's brow gradually furrowed.
Two young men who seemed to have taken a wrong turn were walking out of the Port Hassel Building, looking like ordinary citizens who had stumbled into the mafia's heartland.
Their swagger was thoroughly unhinged.
One had a hand in his pocket, leaning back as he swung his free arm.
The other had both hands stuffed in his pockets, hunched forward with his eyes glued to the ground.
They seemed to be trying their absolute best to act like two mobsters.
"I came to work today in the mood for a funeral. I really hope no blind fool comes to mess with me."
"Serve the people, find joy in helping others. Love what you do, master your craft—because we are kind."
Neither paid the slightest attention to Montillo in the distance.
"..."
The Holy Son of Decay narrowed his eyes.
*Are you two treating this place like your living room?*
*Very well.*
*Two noobs delivering free kills.*
"I choose you."
With a cruel sneer, the Holy Son of Decay strode toward them.
Chapter 826