Mountain's Peak

"Where is Elena?"

Donna and the others looked around in confusion, struggling to grasp when exactly she had disappeared. The two children huddled closer, their eyes darting between the adults for reassurance. "D-did the m-monsters get her?!"

Danitz swore under his breath, looking around in a frenzy as if she would simply reappear if he searched hard enough. He could feel his hearth pounding in his ears. Dogshit! This is why you don't casually bring your woman along on a mission—especially in a godforsaken place like this! He dreaded the moment Gehrman Sparrow would turn his icy gaze on him, blaming him for his woman's disappearance.

Klein, however, was already acting, schooling in his expression and hiding his worry under a neutral enough facade. A coin flickered between his fingers, flipping into the air before landing neatly in his palm. Heads up.

Irina left intentionally.

His frown deepened. She was smart—meticulous even when she wanted to—so he doubted she was in immediate danger. If anything, she'd left because she'd chosen to.

Still, a vague unease settled in his gut. Even if I divined it, there's always a chance the outcome could be misleading... but if I follow that train of thought, than even my earlier divinations might not be reliable—

A movement caught his eye.

Klein's head snapped toward the cathedral's entrance. The door is still open. Cold realization settled over him like a wet cloak. Why did no one close it? He had been the last to enter. Behind him had been—

Irina.

Normally, she was always at his side.

His fingers twitched, reaching for his gun on instinct. Then, slowly, the darkness at the threshold shifted. A dim glow crept upward, revealing a half-gloved hand pale and steady. A lantern, raised just high enough to illuminate a figure wrapped in a scarf with lace veiling her eyes.

Irina.

She wasn't moving.

Klein crossed the distance in quick strides, walking past the others without a word. He swiftly reached the doorway, stopping just short of crossing the threshold. Inside, he stood in the relative safety of the cathedral. Outside, she stood in the open, uncaring of the lurking dangers.

"Why aren't you coming in?" he asked, his voice pitched low.

In a quiet, hurried tone she said, "I don't like this place. It keeps consuming my spirituality in one way or another. I'm not going in."

Klein's blood ran cold.

The cathedral is consuming her spirituality?

He cast a wary glance around the interior, at the high, shadowed arches and flickering candlelight. At the dead priest lying motionless on the pew. At the silent faces of the others, none the wiser to the underlying danger. If it's too dangerous, we should all leave.

"Should we all leave immediately? I can—"

"No, no!" She cut him off with a frantic wave of her hand. "No need, really! It's a me problem. You guys go ahead, examine the body, do whatever you need to do. I'll just wait outside until you're done."

Klein hesitated.

Irina lifted a hand, making a small, circular motion in the air. "I might not be in the same place the whole time, though. I don't want to fight those... things, so I'll jump around a bit. I'm leaving my lantern here by the door. Don't want to be an open target." A faint smirk. "I have a night-vision spell I made back in Tingen."

Tingen.

Klein's chest tightened, but he didn't comment on it. He simply let out a slow breath, nodding. "Alright. But check in every so often. And be careful."

"No problem man. I know how to take care of myself!"

With that, she knelt, setting the lantern down by the door. Then, in a swift motion, she stepped back—into the darkness. Klein saw the faintest shimmer of a circle appearing beneath her feet before she jumped up, landing in the branches of a nearby tree.

He stared for a beat longer. Then, without another word, he stepped back in and shut the cathedral door.

Jayce's corpse lay sprawled before him—cleanly decapitated. Unlike the monsters outside, his body hadn't twisted into something unnatural. Brutal, yes, but not warped.

Klein activated his Spirit Vision.

Nothing. Jayce was gone. A spirit-channeling ritual would be useless.

Had someone erased the traces? Or was it a unique killing technique?

His mind pieced together two possibilities. The first: something had escaped from underground—a Sealed Artifact or a Mid-Sequence Beyonder that lost control—killing Jayce in its flight while the Mandated Punishers scrambled to contain it. But that didn't explain the eerie silence of Bansy Harbor.

The second: a resurrected sacrificial ritual. The monsters, the missing people, the flying heads—it all aligned too closely with ancient flesh-and-blood offerings. A cult revival. If so, the clergy had likely been dragged underground. The battle could still be raging... or it was already lost.

His fingers brushed Azik's copper whistle. If we go underground, we'll be seen as intruders. If the fight's still ongoing, we might get caught in the crossfire...

A faint gleam by Jayce's neck caught his eye. A blue sapphire, A condensed Beyonder characteristic.

Klein exhaled sharply and turned away. He wouldn't touch it. The last thing he needed was trouble with the notoriously short-tempered Church of Storms.

He straightened, gaze settling on Elland and Harris.

"Let's return to the ship first. "

Irina crouched low on a sturdy branch, her breath steady despite the small tension coiling in her chest. Beneath her, headless figures moved through the bushes, their steps heavy, almost dragging.

She couldn't see them. Didn't need to. Their shuffling, the snap of twigs under their feet, the occasional wet squelch against the forest floor—her enhanced hearing caught every sound with clarity.

Just how many are there?

She shifted, muscles tensing as she leaped to the next tree, then another, each movement controlled and silent. She wasn't running—only repositioning, keeping just out of their reach while staying close to the cathedral. After all, when Klein left, she needed to be there to join the group again.

A faint ringing in her ears made her tense. Lightning.

Not even a second later, a jagged bolt split the sky, striking the distant mountain's peak. For a brief moment, the darkness reeled back, revealing the mountain's silhouette against the blood-red sky. She could feel it, that sheer level of energy. Thick, suffocating, coiling over the peak like something alive.

Then, the light vanished.

Her focus snapped back at the sound of movement—a new sound, different from the previous mindless shuffling in the forest. It was fast.

A figure burst from the tree line, running toward the village. Unlike the others, this one had a head.

Irina watched him attentively. That direction... the telegraph office.

She hesitated. There was something there. Something vast and condensed, radiating danger even more than the corruption at the peak. Her spirituality had screamed at her before when she got too close. Whatever was inside that place... she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Yet her feet moved before her thoughts could settle.

She leaped, following the fading figure's path—but stopped just close of leaving the cathedral behind. Turning, she stared at the heavy, closed entrance doors.

Damn it.

Muttering a curse under her breath, she changed course, landing in front of the cathedral. The lantern sat exactly where she had left it.

She bent down, fingers wrapping around its handle, moving her scarf back over her shoulder as she straightened.

Klein casually flipped the gold coin, watching it spin before it landed in his palm. No battle underground. That was good. Still, whether the Mandated Punishers were present or not, staying at the cathedral was no longer wise.

"Alright!" Elland agreed without hesitation. He had no desire to linger here, in a place that felt ready to swallow them whole. As long as he got back to the White Agate, he'd have his cannons, his sailors, his safety.

Danitz, however, was losing his mind.

What the hell?! He gawped as Gehrman turned on his heel, leaving the cathedral—without Elena. Did he just... shut the door on her? Danitz's brain caught up way later with him as horror dawned on him. Dogshit! I thought he was bringing her back, but he left her outside like bait! What kind of man does that?! He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him.

Yet he said nothing.

Because it was Gehrman Sparrow.

After a brief pause, the group left the cathedral.

After stepping past the doors, Klein slowed, glancing around before bending down to retrieve Irina's still-burning lantern.

A sharp tingle ran up his arm, stopping exactly where she had placed those blue rings.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, and he stilled. The protection spells Irina gave me are reacting.

Frowning, he tilted the lantern slightly, watching the flickering flame. It danced unnaturally, elongating, shifting—then, for a split second, a faint ring of light appeared within the flame.

Letters flickered to life, barely visible in the glow. He adjusted his grip, angling it just right to catch the message.

A brief moment later, the fire snapped back to normal, the hidden writing vanishing like it had never been there. But Klein had already read it.

"I left the area. Headed to the telegraph office to check on something. No need to come after me. I'll be back at the ship once I'm done!"

Klein exhaled slowly, lowering the lantern.

"Elena will reach us later," he said evenly. "Let's go."

Danitz's eye twitched. 'Reach later'? What, as a CORPSE?! He barely stopped himself from blurting it out. Instead, he bit his tongue and followed, though his thoughts continued in an indignant spiral. You seriously left her out there to die! You don't even care about your woman! Heartless! Madman!

With Elland and Harris now part of the group, their defense felt stronger. Yet Klein couldn't shake a faint sense of unease. Irina wasn't with them anymore, and despite her higher Sequence, it didn't sit right with him.

He stopped tossing the copper whistle, stuffing it back into his pocket.

A few paces later, Elland hesitated before speaking up. "Should we send a telegram to the Church of Storms headquarters? Report what's happened in Bansy Harbor? "

It was the logical choice. If things took a turn for the worse, they could at least hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Klein gave a short nod. "We'll pass by the telegraph office. "

Danitz let out a small breath of relief. Then, a second later, his stomach dropped. Shit.

The Church of Storms wasn't exactly forgiving to people like him. If they dug into this situation, they'd find out that he, Blazing Danitz, had been involved. The moment they confirmed it, they'd have his head on a spike.

Okay, one problem at a time. Let's not die first, he thought, shoving his worries aside.

The telegraph office soon came into view, shrouded in fog.

A faint yellow light flickered ahead, emerging from a side street. The glow bobbed slightly—someone was walking toward them. A middle-aged man carrying a hurricane lamp.

He was dressed in a dark blue bishop's robe, the symbol of the Storm embroidered across his chest. His head was bowed, his skin pale, breath wheezing. His steps were slow, staggered, like he was struggling to stay upright.

Elland tensed. "Bishop Millet?"

The man's head lifted slightly. He raised his lamp, its glow illuminating his features. "Elland, is it?"

Klein shifted back a step, allowing Elland to take the front. He had no desire to draw the bishop's attention.

Danitz, already on edge, shrank back even further, using Urdi's bulk to shield himself.

Elland straightened. He wasn't naive enough to move closer, but his voice was steady. "Yes, Your Excellency. Jayce is dead. What happened?"

Bishop Millet coughed harshly before rasping, "An old custom has been revived. A group of heathens with dirty blood running through their veins has begun offering live sacrifices... consuming flesh and blood."

Elland's jaw tightened.

"Jayce noticed the signs," the bishop continued. "He tried to act... and was killed for it. It can no longer be covered up." His voice grew weaker, and he took a slow, shuddering breath before pressing on. "They used the sacrificial ritual to alter the weather. They tried to storm the cathedral. They failed. The Mandated Punishers fought them off, but they fled to the mountains... where the altar lies." His grip on the lantern tightened. "I was injured in the battle. I barely managed to make it back."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a burst of white light flared in the distance.

It split through the fog like lightning, illuminating the distant shoreline. For a brief moment, the fog-covered mountains were visible.

Then, a familiar feminine voice rang out from the darkness. "Don't move."

Elland, who had been about to step forward, froze. Isn't that Elena's voice?

Klein's hand was already in his pocket, fingers brushing the edge of a coin. He fished it out and flicked it into the air, murmuring under his breath, "He has ill intentions."

Ding!

The coin spun, twisted, and landed in his palm.

Heads up.

A positive result.

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then Bishop Millet's eyes—once dull with exhaustion—flashed dark red.

Woosh!

A powerful gust exploded outward, tearing through the night like an invisible blade. His dark blue bishop's robes flared violently, whipping around his body as if possessed.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Tree branches snapped like brittle bones, lifted into the air by the howling winds before scattering like shrapnel.

Donna barely had time to scream before she was yanked off her feet, flung several meters before crashing back down. Pain shot through her limbs as she hit the ground, her breath knocked clean out of her lungs.

She wasn't the only one.

Cecile, Denton, Timothy, Harris—every single one of them was swept up by the storm and tossed in different directions. Only Cleves, Teague, and Urdi, through sheer strength or sheer weight, managed to stay somewhat grounded, tumbling instead of being hurled.

Elland, facing the full force of the gale, reacted fast. He kicked off the ground, twisting into a series of backward somersaults, narrowly avoiding being blown away.

Klein and Danitz, rather than resisting, allowed themselves to be thrown backward. They barely managed to regain their footing before hitting the ground, stabilizing themselves mid-air like puppets on invisible strings.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the hurricane ceased.

The fog thinned and six figures emerged.

Draped in tattered black cloaks, their forms were disturbingly human—except for one detail. They had no heads.

Only gaping, bloody necks remained beneath their raised hoods, held upright by the lingering wind that swirled around them.

A guttural, bestial grunt came from their exposed throats, raw and inhuman. It wasn't speech. It was the sound made by a predator before they lunged.

Danitz felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. One of these things was already a nightmare to deal with. Now there are six. And a corrupted bishop on top of that? Dogshit!

Sou! Sou! Sou!

Razor-thin wind blades shrieked through the air, slicing through the space where Klein had been mere moments before. They hit the ground, carving deep rifts into the earth, as if a giant had dragged its claws through it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

From both sides of Bishop Millet—whose lantern cast flickering, erratic shadows—the six headless figures charged forward. Their footsteps were so heavy that the ground trembled beneath them.

Move. MOVE.

Then, before Danitz could process anything further, a bronze streak shot past his vision.

Dang! Dang! Dang!

Settled up in the trees, Irina watched as chaos erupted below. The moment Azik's copper whistle hit the ground, the six headless creatures froze—then, as if compelled by some unseen force, they turned in unison and charged toward it with terrifying speed.

Interesting.

That left only Bishop Millet, standing eerily still.

Klein didn't waste a second. With a sharp command, he tossed the Sun Brooch to Elland, barking out instructions before dashing forward, his movements quick and unpredictable. Wind blades slashed through the air, relentless in their pursuit, but he evaded them with near-impossible precision, each twist and step keeping him just beyond death's reach. The ground wasn't so lucky—deep gouges marred the stone and earth where he had been just moments before.

Then the bishop moved again.

A second wave of attacks, faster, sharper. Soo many to dodge.

The wind howled. Klein was shredded apart.

Irina's breath caught for a split second before his figure turned into paper, fluttering away in the storm. Not flesh. Not blood. Paper figurine substitute.

Damn, that looked way too realistic at first...

From a distance away, Klein reappeared, stepping out of thin air, coat billowing as he pushed forward.

Show-off.

She shifted her position slightly, resting her weight on the balls of her feet as she continued to observe. The fight was intense, but Klein and the others had things under control. Her lips curled slightly. Good. That means I can focus elsewhere.

With silent ease, she leaped to another tree, slipping through the branches like a shadow. The headless creatures below remained unaware of her presence, their focus entirely on the battlefield.

Her gaze flicked toward the distant mountain's peak.

The corruption there was thick—but not like the telegraph office. She could feel it even from here, pulsing like a second heartbeat in the air.

Irina exhaled softly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Curiosity killed the cat, right?

She sprang forward, heading toward the peak.

But cats have nine lives!

Elland barely had time to react before the Sun Brooch landed in his hands, flooding him with blistering heat. He gritted his teeth, recalling Gehrman Sparrow's instructions, and pulled out a tin-colored alcohol flask.

Steadying himself, he unscrewed the lid and poured out the Lanti Proof.

Nearby, Danitz assessed the battlefield with a grimace. Instead of attacking the bishop directly, he dropped to one knee, slamming his palms onto the ground.

Scarlet fire serpents coiled outward, forming a blazing perimeter around Azik's copper whistle.

The headless creatures barely hesitated. They stormed through the flames, unfazed, their twitching, bleeding necks aimed straight for the whistle.

Elland used the distraction to channel his spirituality into the Sun Brooch, letting condensed holy water drip into the alcohol flask. Danitz, heart pounding, conjured a white-hot spear in his palm, the fire crackling hungrily. Without hesitation, he hurled it.

It flew through the darkness, striking one of the monsters dead-on. A white explosion erupted, consuming its body in fire, leaving only burning remnants dissolving into eerie black-green mist.

Danitz tensed, ready to throw another but he froze.

A sickening hunger slithered through his mind, vast and insatiable. His breath hitched as his instincts screamed at him to run away.

Because he knew.

Gehrman Sparrow had stopped suppressing the monster inside him.

High in the trees, just below the mountain's peak, Irina crouched low, hidden among the branches.

Her gaze was fixed on the scene below, eyes gleaming with sharp, hungry focus—yet her fingers twitched at odd intervals while her body was locked in place. The warnings from her spirituality kept clawing at her mind, insistent and unrelenting. I'm not activating spirit vision alright...

A sudden gust of wind nearly tore her scarf away. She caught it at the last second, gripping the fabric tightly before tucking one end into the back of her shirt. With a slow breath, she settled onto the branch, shrugging off her tight jacket and setting it aside.

Her pulse pounded. Her skin prickled. Every instinct screamed at her—the danger ahead wasn't just great. It was overwhelming.

The ground below was littered with corpses. Headless corpses.

Blood pooled beneath them, but instead of sinking into the soil, it defied gravity, flowing upward in curving streams. At the foot of an ancient altar, the crimson liquid twisted and coiled, forming symbols that pulsed with an unnatural energy.

Irina forced her gaze away, unwilling to risk even a second of focus. Her protection might shield her for some time, but even that had its limits. And I'm still just a Sequence 6...

Through the thick haze of the spiritual warnings pounding in her skull, she watched as a group of Mandated Punishers worked frantically, wielding strange Sealed Artifacts in an attempt to suppress the ritual.

The air around them crackled with restrained energy, their work barely holding back that pressure.

Irina inhaled deeply, pushing down the fear curling in her stomach. Come on, I'm way past such instincts.

She needed to memorize this scene, take in every last detail. Later, in the library, she could unravel the meaning behind it all. And with the pocket brush-mirror, she could replay everything—study it safely, away from the corruption pressing in from all sides.

Her eyes flicked across the strange artifacts, noting each design and movement. But she refused to activate her Spirit Vision. Not here. Not so close to the altar.

She wanted answers, but she wasn't a fool. I'm curious—that's why I'm here. But I'm not looking forward to death.

Then, a sharp prickle ran down her spine.

Her breath stilled. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

From the artifact. Up a man's toned arms. To his face.

Dark eyes locked onto hers, sharp and suspicious. The Mandated Punisher had spotted her and was watching her.

Shit.