As thunder roared beyond the hull and the sea battered the vessel in violent rhythm, Halsey remained sharply alert. Her senses, sharpened by the instincts of a Detective, swept across the room and gathered every useful detail she could seize.
Seven Mandated Punishers were present inside with them.
Their confiscated artifacts had been placed on a table near the eastern side of the room, watched by two officials standing guard. Lars appeared calm, though the stillness in his posture suggested the same vigilance she herself maintained. Alain Rouge and his butler looked composed on the surface, yet their stiff shoulders and restrained breathing betrayed unease.
As Halsey absorbed each variable, her mind worked furiously to assemble a path out. Then a tremendous crash burst from the corridor beyond the door, followed by startled screams.
The captain of the Mandated Punishers still inside barked immediate orders. Most of the Mandated Punishers rushed out to confront whatever had erupted outside, boots pounding down the passage. Only two men remained behind to watch the prisoners.
It was then that Lars began to chuckle. The sudden noise drew every eye in the room. He lifted his head toward one of the guards and formed a grin. "Funny. All of you hot-blooded idiots loved mocking me. Said I'd fallen from a murderous Reaper to some half-assed butler."
His smile widened. "And now look at you. Two chained dogs waiting for their master to come back."
Disgust spread across the officials' faces. One of the remaining Punishers stepped forward, expression turning hard as stone. He raised a fist and drove it down in a brutal arc, the blow cracking against Lars's jaw, spraying blood from his mouth.
"Keep that filthy mouth shut," the man said coldly. "Unless you want to die."
Lars laughed harder. "Bark louder," he said, spitting blood across the man's uniform and staining it red. "Can't hear you over the storm."
With a snarl, the Punisher struck again. This time the blow sent Lars and chair crashing into the wall hard enough to rattle the planks. The impact was buried beneath another violent peal of thunder outside.
The second guard stepped in at once, eager to help finish the job, but they advanced two steps too many. The chair had splintered apart on impact, its restraints loosened and frame broken beyond use.
With this, Lars was already moving. Freed from the wreckage, he surged out from the debris before either man could react properly. His legs swelled with explosive force as he lunged forward. In two savage motions, he drove a punch into each man's stomach. Both guards folded instantly, eyes rolling back as they hit the floor unconscious.
Halsey exhaled once.
Lars crossed the room and tore through her bindings, then moved to free her wrists.
"Crude," she said, rubbing circulation back into her hands. "That's not how I would do it."
"But effective," Lars replied."Besides, I'm sturdy. I can handle a few hits."
Halsey slipped sideways toward the confiscated artifacts.
Lars turned toward Alain. Relief had just begun to appear on the businessman's face when Lars moved with frightening speed and clamped a hand over his mouth.
Alain's body convulsed. A muffled scream escaped his throat as a searing heat spread through his jaw and cheeks. Tears sprang instantly to his eyes.
His butler surged in outrage, only to freeze when Lars glanced at him.
"There is a compressed fireball inside his mouth," Lars said evenly. "If he disobeys, or if you try anything clever, his skull paints the wall."
Alain trembled violently and managed a frantic nod beneath Lars's grip.
Halsey returned with their artifacts in hand. One look at Alain's state made her frown. "Was that necessary?"
Lars didn't even turn. "We don't have room for courtesy." He looked at Alain and then the butler. "Take us to the storage room."
Both men stiffened.
Lars's eyes narrowed. "Yes. We are going to take all of your artifacts. Especially the iron-black broadsword."
Halsey stepped forward and cut the butler free.
"You walk first," she ordered.
The servant swallowed and obeyed.
They formed up quickly. The butler led the way. Halsey followed after reclaiming their artifacts, handing Lars the slender dark-green dagger, Moonshine Strike, while keeping the rest to herself for the moment. Lars stayed close behind Alain, one hand still locked over his mouth, the threat of burning death held inches from his tongue while thunder continued to shake the ship.
They moved at a quick pace through the corridors toward the storage room, boots striking wet timber as the ship groaned beneath the storm.
Bodies lay scattered along the way.
At first, they were passengers and crew, innocent bystanders collapsed where they had fallen, some groaning faintly, others unmoving but breathing. Farther ahead, the scene changed. Mandated Punishers were sprawled across the floor as well, weapons dropped from limp hands, uniforms stained by seawater and grime.
Halsey narrowed her eyes as she stepped over one unconscious official. "What exactly are we dealing with? Trouble coming from outside the ship... or something already inside with us?"
Lars kept hold of Alain Rouge and glanced once behind them. "No one's following us," he said. "We're clear, for now, ."
That did little to ease the feeling pressing on the corridor walls.
They continued forward and soon reached the storage room. Lars shoved Alain ahead and motioned with his chin toward the butler. "Get our luggage and don't try anything clever. I know exactly where it is."
The servant gave a low grunt but complied. He crossed the room to a cluster of cases stacked near the rear wall and knelt beside three sturdy suitcases.
He opened the first one.
Inside rested the iron-black broadsword Lars had spoken of earlier, its surface dull and heavy, swallowing the nearby light rather than reflecting it.
Lars smirked. "Good. It's still there." He tightened his grip over Alain's mouth until the man whimpered through his nose. "Now open the others."
The butler wasted no time opening the remaining two cases.
Halsey and Lars both looked inside. One suitcase contained an orange-brass gauntlet fitted with a bright red gemstone on the back of the hand. Beside it sat a potion vial filled with liquid of a pinkish-red hue, thick and luminous under the lamps.
The other held a bluish-black book. A mirror was embedded in its front cover, though the glass looked strangely unreal, as if its surface were made of mist pretending to be reflective.
The moment Halsey saw it, a sharp urge rose inside her, being too hard to ignore.
She stepped forward and picked it up and the sensation was instant. Her thoughts sharpened, lingering distractions vanished and multiple threads of possibilities aligned themselves with unnatural clarity. Details became easier to organize, easier to dissect, easier to understand. Her mind felt cleaner and faster than it ever had before.
This was a refreshing feeling that was beyond just simple focus, it was as if the world had become easier to read.
She looked at Lars. "This feels like what you described from the sword."
His eyes narrowed. "Then it's likely the same level."
A Demigod-grade artifact of the Reader Pathway.
Then Halsey's expression changed, as if receiving a vision. She turned sharply toward the entrance. "My bag…"
A figure stood in the doorway. Dark, silent and motionless. It had arrived without a single footstep.
…
Outside, above the raging sea, Ace Snake stood suspended in the air amidst violent winds of his own making.
Storm currents spiraled around him like loyal beasts.
With a sharp gesture, he called down bolts of lightning that tore through the darkness and slammed into the distant black vessel. Thunder cracked across the ocean as arcs of electricity spread into a full lightning storm, drowning out much of the manic laughter and shrill cries spilling from the enemy ship.
The target was unmistakable.
Nearly two hundred meters in length, the sailboat cut a monstrous silhouette across the waves. Its raised bow and stern curved like a crescent moon. The hull was entirely black. Cannons lined its flanks in three uneven rows, descending from top to bottom. Structures rising from the deck loomed with the height of a five-story building. Yet the strangest feature was its single sail.
Upon it was painted a black tomb. It was the Death Announcer!
Snake's lightning descended again and again.
Yet every strike was halted by a dome of flourishing trees that spread from the deck as a living barrier. Branches twisted upward, leaves bursting forth in impossible abundance as they absorbed thunder and splintered arcs of electricity.
Ace Snake's expression darkened. A high-sequence beyonder of the planter pathway…
"To bring such filth into my waters..." he muttered.
However, the true danger was not the trees, but the instinctive warning clawing at his mind. A sinister pressure seeped from the black ship, old and hostile, as though something beneath its hull watched the battle unfold.
Worse still, he had earlier attempted to command the nearby sea creatures to swarm the vessel, yet none answered. The surrounding waters were empty, with no fish, no sharks, no predators from the depths. Everything living beneath the sea had fled long before the battle began. For a veteran of the sailor pathway, that was deeply unnatural.
Then blue-green flames streaked from the stern of the Death Announcer.
They shot across the air like flaming arrows.
Snake clenched a fist. Violent winds surged outward, smashing several fireballs apart while shoving the others off course into the sea, where they exploded in steaming bursts.
He thrust his palm forward, commanding the sea under his might.
A towering tsunami rose from the dark waters and surged toward the black ship with crushing force. Although, before it could strike, a colossal tentacle erupted upward and split the wave cleanly in two. Walls of seawater crashed harmlessly to either side, drenching the surrounding sea.
A roar thundered from beneath the depths. Everything paused for a single breath. Even the storm seemed to hesitate.
Ace Snake steadied himself in the air and looked downward. More tentacles were surfacing.
Massive shapes moved under the water, circling. The pressure they gave off was immense, an oppressive sensation he had only felt before in the presence of Jahn Kottman. A creature of that class.
Another tentacle burst upward directly beneath him. It snapped toward his body, aiming to coil and crush.
Snake twisted aside in midair and slashed his hand downward. Blades of compressed wind blades screamed forward. Several carved into the flesh, drawing dark blood.
Others curved strangely, caught in spiraling currents around the limb… and were flung back at him.
He crossed his arms as walls made of wind formed in front of him, blocking his own redirected attacks.
Then a second tentacle struck. It whipped across his body with devastating force.
Ace Snake was blasted through the air like a cannon shot and crashed onto the deck of his own ship, splintering wood beneath him as the storm raged overhead.
With Ace Snake driven back onto the deck of the Storm Dew, the pressure restraining the enemy vessel vanished.
The Death Announcer surged forward at full speed, its black hull cutting through the violent waters as it advanced upon the passenger ship like a funeral blade.
Then the sea revolted.
A gigantic whirlpool formed amidst the cluster of rising tentacles, its center churning with terrifying force. The surrounding waters twisted into a spiraling current that seized both vessels at once. The Death Announcer and the Storm Dew were dragged sideways, their courses broken as they began circling the vortex like trapped prey.
As the black ship neared the ring of tentacles, another thunderous roar erupted from beneath the ocean.
Several limbs lashed upward.
Some struck at the hull. Others smashed into the waves beside it, attempting to shove the vessel deeper toward the center of the whirlpool.
The Death Announcer swayed violently.
Before it could be pulled further off course, movement burst from the dome of flourishing trees atop its deck.
Strange creatures leapt outward.
Their bodies were grotesquely altered. Mishmashes of flesh bearing fins, scales, gills, claws, and distorted marine features mutated into unnatural forms. They plunged into the sea and rapidly enlarged beneath the surface until massive fins and ridged backs could be seen cutting through the water.
They spread around the outer edges of the black ship.
Then, like a living team of beasts yoked to a carriage, they forced the vessel away from danger, dragging and steering it clear of the whirlpool's hungry center.
From the distant sky came a deafening sonic boom and streak of lightning followed through, splitting the darkness.
Lightning bolts rained down in rapid succession, smashing into multiple tentacles and scorching their slick flesh black. Steam burst upward where sea and electricity met.
A figure hovered in the air. Wrapped in majesty and pressure that inspired both fear and awe, Alger Wilson had arrived.
The Stormbringer!
He extended a hand toward the whirlpool and slowly clenched his fist.
The spiraling sea shuddered.
Its pull weakened at once. The furious rotation lost shape, then collapsed into disordered waves. Water rushed outward as the monstrous current was forcibly dispersed. Both ships broke free from the perilous orbit that had threatened to drag them into destruction.
As the waters steadied, another vessel emerged through rain and spray.
The Blue Avenger had reached the battlefield.
From the abyss below came another roar, this time deeper and angrier, carrying clear retaliation toward the newcomer's dominance.
Alger's gaze passed over both ships, then it lowered to the sea beneath them.
His expression became utterly still, like it was the sort of calm that only existed moments before calamity.
…
The storage room had descended into chaos.
When the storm struck the ship in full, the entire room lurched violently. Crates broke loose, luggage slid across the floor, and unsecured boxes crashed into shelves or burst apart on impact. Every person inside was forced to fight simply to remain standing against the sea's fury.
Lars staggered with the others, yet even then he refused to release Alain Rouge. His grip only tightened further, nearly crushing the man's jaw as Alain groaned through clenched teeth.
The opened suitcases were flung apart.
The iron-black broadsword slid hard into one corner of the room. The orange-brass gauntlet bounced across the planks and vanished beyond a row of crates.
Halsey, clutching the bluish-black book to her chest, stumbled repeatedly while trying to keep her footing. Charlie, the butler, was thrown in the opposite direction, colliding with stacked cargo before catching himself.
By the time the room steadied, they had all been scattered to different points.
Only the figure in the doorway had barely moved. The dark man remained standing where he had first appeared, balanced with surprising ease as though the storm had chosen to ignore him.
When the violent shaking finally subsided, he began to clap at a slow, unenthusiastic pace, with a few amused chuckles following soon after.
He looked toward Alain. "What a miserable sight. First you get arrested, then taken hostage. And now you're being robbed of artifacts that don't belong to you."
Alain's face twitched with humiliation and fury.
Halsey tightened her hold on the book and fixed her gaze on the intruder. "Who are you?"
The man spread his hands lightly. "Just a fellow who solves problems." Then he pointed directly at the book in her arms. "And right now, that is a problem."
He began walking toward her with measured steps, casual and unhurried, as though nothing in the room could threaten him. On the third step, a massive dark greatsword suddenly burst through his chest from behind, tearing out from his torso.
However, no blood spilled out.
Instead, his entire body fractured into countless mirror shards that scattered across the floor and faded like dissolving light. Where he had stood, another figure now remained, tall, silent, and motionless, holding an enormous black greatsword in one hand. The weapon alone seemed heavy enough to split a man in two.
Several meters away, the first man reappeared intact, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance as though inconvenienced by the interruption.
Everyone in the storage room froze. Halsey, Lars, Alain, even Charlie felt their thoughts tighten. The newcomer's presence pressed upon the mind like cold steel laid against their throat. Glancing at the new figure, they soon recognized a few traits through dread alone.
Only one name came to mind.
Babayaga!
The other man turned toward the swordsman and calmly reached into his pocket. He withdrew a card and held it up between two fingers. Halsey's eyes locked onto it at once.
It was the Moon Card of Blasphemy!
He gave it a slight wave, smiling with open mockery. "Looking for this?"
The instant the words left his mouth, Babayaga moved. His figure vanished from sight and surged forward with terrifying speed, the greatsword cleaving through the air with enough force to howl. Yet the man reacted just as quickly, blurring sideways and reappearing elsewhere before the strike could land.
Then he was suddenly behind Halsey.
His hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Sleep swallowed her at once. Her eyes lost focus, and her knees buckled beneath her. Before she could hit the floor, he caught both her body and the falling bluish-black book with practiced ease.
"Seems I need a hostage too," he said lightly.
With Halsey held in one arm and the artifact secured, he shot through the doorway in a blur. Babayaga lunged after him without the slightest hesitation, black greatsword in hand, the pursuit vanishing into the storm beyond.
As Lars watched Halsey taken away, he remained rooted in place beside Alain Rouge.
His instincts screamed at him.
Both figures who had just crossed the room were monsters far beyond his current level. The pressure they left behind had frozen even a seasoned beyonder like him for those few crucial seconds. He could not even force out Halsey's name before she vanished.
After a few moments, he collected himself with a few swift breaths.
If he wanted any chance of helping her, he needed strength.
He dragged Alain toward the scattered artifacts and headed for the orange-brass gauntlet. Yet just as he reached down, Alain began struggling violently, shaking his head over and over while trying to stop him.
Lars narrowed his eyes.
Alain lifted a finger and wrote upon the air.
Tiny motes of starlight gathered into crude words.
Dangerous. Needs potion.
Lars glanced at him. "Why?"
Again, Alain traced symbols into the empty space.
Heavy life drain.
Lars immediately searched the room and spotted the pinkish-red vial near an overturned crate. He hauled Alain along, retrieved it, and then looked back at the businessman with a crooked smile.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
He triggered the compressed fireball still hidden inside Alain Rouge's mouth.
The man's head exploded in a spray of blood and shattered bone. Even before the headless corpse could finish collapsing, Lars's instincts flared with warning.
There was danger behind him.
Charlie lunged from the side, aiming a lethal strike with a concealed blade. Lars twisted away at the last moment, the weapon grazing past him. He answered with a heavy punch to the butler's chest that staggered the man backward, then he drew the Moonshine Strike with his right hand.
One clean slash followed.
Charlie's head spun free and rolled across the planks while his body toppled beside Alain's remains. Lars barely spared either corpse another glance. In his eyes, with Halsey trapped between two monsters, the lives of two failed agents meant nothing.
He uncorked the vial and drank it in a single swallow.
Heat surged through his body.
Stamina, vitality, and spirituality flooded every limb so violently that he felt capable of fighting for days without rest.
"So he wasn't lying."
He strode back to the gauntlet and forced it onto his right hand.
At once, it began draining his life force.
Yet the potion's overwhelming vitality met the drain head-on, making the cost almost meaningless for the moment.
Orange-brass metal spread upward across his arm like living armor. Plates formed over shoulder, chest, waist, legs, and head in rapid succession until he stood encased in a complete battlesuit of gleaming war-plate, fitted with greaves and a closed helm.
Lars flexed both hands in surprise.
Then he moved for the iron-black sword…and overshot it by dozens of meters in a blur.
He skidded to a halt, startled.
"This thing does more than look impressive."
He turned, at a slower controlled pace and returned to the weapon. The moment his hand closed around the iron-black blade, another force entered him.
Courage surged through him the moment his hand closed around the sword. Fear and unease vanished at once, and every trace of hesitation was cut away as though severed at the root. Only one purpose remained in Lars's mind.
To rescue Halsey.
Sword in hand and armored from head to toe, Lars charged out of the storage room in pursuit of the two fleeing figures.
Silence returned in his wake.
Suddenly, Alain Rouge's headless corpse sat upright.
The body rose slowly to its feet as blood splashed across the room began sliding back toward it in thin streams, flowing upwards. Flesh reformed, bone knitting itself together. A new head gradually took shape atop the neck.
Within moments, Alain stood whole again.
Beside him, Charlie stepped into view. No headless corpse remained on the floor. It had all been an illusion.
Alain rolled his neck, clicked his tongue once, then turned toward his butler with an easy smile.
Having summoned the historical projections of the artifacts Lars took, Jack maintained a past state layered with abilities he had stolen or grafted onto himself from his repertoire of projections. It allowed Erynos to borrow powers from a Mysticologist whenever needed, preserving the disguise and maintaining the act. At the same time, it let another of Jack's marionettes to employ Mirror Substitution whenever danger drew near.
Concurrently, he had also summoned the historical projection of Roselle Gustav. Through it, he performed a particular mystical reenactment and called forth a kraken from the depths.
It was the Mystical Reenactment: Waters of Cetus!
Watching the battlefield expand beneath the storm, Alain smiled faintly and said,
"Now all the players are finally arriving."