Mandated Punishers

After using Paper Figurine Substitutes three times, Klein finally closed the distance.

The glove on his left hand trembled before bursting with hunger. Dark golden scales wriggled to the surface while Klein's pupils faded away, turning vertical.

Across the battlefield, Bishop Millet, mid-way through summoning multiple wind blades, jerked violently before freezing instantly. His glowing red eyes darkened with madness as his skin warped unnaturally—smooth and iridescent. From beneath his robes, slimy, writhing tentacles appeared.

Psychiatrist's Frenzy.

Klein had only intended to disrupt Millet's attack, but the bishop's mind shattered instantly. He lost control.

Klein didn't hesitate. His glove shimmered with gold, his gaze sharpening as he switched the soul he was driving.

Lightning flashed in his eyes.

Millet shrieked, clutching his head in pain as his psyche got pierced by an invisible force.

Interrogator.

Klein shifted again, his glove igniting with a blinding radiance. He leaned back, arms spread wide, as pure, divine light descended from above. The battlefield instantly turned to day as even the winds halted.

Priest of Light.

Millet's flesh evaporated—first his skin, then the tentacles, then the muscle beneath. When the light faded, only a grotesque husk of bone and weakly pulsing tissue remained.

But he wasn't dead. A Rampager's vitality is truly monstrous.

Klein advanced calmly, kneeling beside the body. He pressed his left palm against the ruined flesh. The glove split open, revealing two rows of eerie, pale teeth that gnashed hungrily at the mad beyonder.

Millet convulsed, struggling to regenerate. His tentacles regrew and lashed out. Klein fired five rounds. The bishop's screams turned to gurgles before his entire being—flesh, spirit, and all—was devoured.

Only clothes, money, and dark blue-green light blobs remained.

Nearby, Elland had finished infusing holy water into his alcohol flask. At Danitz's shout, he threw it into the midst of the headless figures clawing for Azik's copper whistle.

Danitz exhaled, stretching his fingers outward. A flock of fiery red ravens burst into existence, diving in formation.

The flask shattered in mid-air, and Sun Holy Water rained down.

Screams and smoke. The last of the headless creatures convulsed, melting away into blood.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Danitz exhaled. It's over... Gehrman Sparrow is terrifying. Even if he fought Captain, he could hold his own...

He turned, only to find Gehrman watching him with a cold, unreadable gaze.

Danitz gulped and scrambled forward, retrieving the copper whistle.

Donna rubbed her bruised arm and watched as Uncle Sparrow silently dusted off his half-top hat, placed it back on his head, and stepped away from the battlefield.

"Shit," Irina muttered under her breath, pushing herself to her feet in a rush, trying not to lose her balance on the tree branch. Ahead, the official Beyonder signaled something to his teammate and, almost instantly, two more pairs of eyes locked onto her.

Her first instinct was to raise her hands in mock surrender—just to show she meant no harm—but she hesitated halfway. That wouldn't match my persona, nor my acting. Maybe I should—

A sharp sound sliced through the air. She ducked just in time for a gust of wind to barely miss her but still tear the scarf away from her neck. Come on, I just fixed it! It fluttered away, lost to the night, as she jumped back and away from the tree, rolling to break her fall.

Do we not know how to communicate? No?! Alright.

She took two slow steps back, making it clear she had no intention of attacking. But the ringing in her ears told her they weren't done yet. Another sharp sound and Irina ducked low, evading the wind blade, and took off, running back down the mountain, leaving the sacrificial altar behind.

Can't even take a look here! Whatever, I'll just go back—

Something flickered ahead, and before she could stop herself, she crashed into an invisible barrier.

The impact sent Irina stumbling back with a sharp pain blooming across her nose. Her fingers flew up, pressing against the lace of her mask, feeling the warm, thick liquid seeping through it.

Fucking Mandated Punishers assholes—when and how did you put a hall here?!

Before she could even curse them further, the rustle of movement made her eyes widen. She barely ducked in time, dodging a punch by mere inches. Too fast!

A bloodstained, bandage-wrapped item the size of a fist flew toward her. She twisted to evade again—only to freeze mid-motion. Her limbs locked and her body refused to move. No, no—

Pain exploded through her stomach.

Her barely-formed shield absorbed most of the impact, spreading the force of the punch instead of concentrating it in one spot. Even so, the sheer strength behind the attack sent her flying. Her back slammed against a tree.

The wood cracked loudly. Her hair tangled in the rough bark as her lungs spasmed for air.

You piece of shit!

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay upright. A sharp pull at her scalp made her wince painfully—several strands had been yanked from her head, still caught in the tree as she moved. But before she could react further, her body froze in place again.

Not this shitty artifact again!

The same black-haired attacker stepped forward, dark energy clinging thickly around his gloved hand. Another artifact, her mind supplied the obvious.

The same trick won't work twice. Uncaring of her spirituality warning her of the altar, she activated her Spirit Vision.

Irina's eyes flicked up and information flooded her senses. The first artifact—a simply stained rock. It locked a target in place upon being thrown, releasing them only after it hit or stopped moving.

The object was still in mid-air when she made her decision. Without hesitation, she summoned a shield in its path. The rock hit the invisible barrier with a dull thunk and dropped to the soft ground.

Instantly, the weight gripping her limbs disappeared. Finally!

She bolted, enhancing her speed with a ring. The Mandated Punisher's eyes widened in surprise.

Before he could react, Irina took a step back and set three more rings in place—one for speed, one for strength, and one to increase velocity.

She spun and lashed out with a rotating kick. The force sent the man flying at an unnatural speed, hurling him toward the altar.

He crashed into the ground with a sickening crack. Irina didn't even need to see his expression to know something had broken. Serves you right!

Without hesitation, she turned to his brown-haired companion. He barely had time to register what had happened before she dashed past him.

As she moved, she caught the back of his collar and yanked him off his feet, flinging him toward his teammate. This time, softer—she had no intention of injuring another official Beyonder after all.

Before either of them could recover—or their remaining teammates could abandon their task: restraining the altar—Irina raised her voice, clear and firm. "I am no enemy of the church."

Or rather, I don't want to be.

The disbelief in their expressions was palpable. But she continued, unfazed. "I came to make sure you were handling this cleanly and weren't corrupted—since my companions are currently fighting against your mad captain."

The black-haired man she had kicked grumbled as he attempted to move, only to wince in pain.

As I said. Serves you right.

Irina raised a lazy hand, pointing at him with an almost amused tilt of her head. "Don't attack me again, or I won't be as gentle."

The brown-haired Beyonder, the second one she had thrown, opened his mouth—probably to spout some bullshit—but the altar behind them flickered ominously.

Blood surged upward, forming a grotesque crimson sphere in midair.

He shut his mouth, reluctantly turning back to his team. They began chanting with urgency, "Holy Lord of Storms—" or something along those lines. Irina barely paid them any attention.

Her gaze flicked over her ruined clothes. They were brand new, too... She cried internally, staring at her stained shirt, torn skirt, and her jacket lying discarded on the ground. Only the green brooch she had repurposed as a necklace appeared to be unscathed.

A sudden gust of wind whipped through the battlefield, sending strands of her hair flying into her face. She sighed, tucking some behind her ear. Her braid, from how neat and perfect she had made it that morning, was now a tangled mess.

Then, the telltale twitch in her ears—the kind that always preceded an extremely loud sound.

She clamped her hands over them.

Lightning struck.

Blinding light swallowed the battlefield. The force rattled her entire body, reaching her bones. By the time her vision cleared, the altar remained unchanged, but the crimson sphere of blood had vanished.

The ground, however, was shifting.

Blood slithered like living tendrils toward the fallen Mandated Punisher. His eyes widened in horror and he tried to scramble back, but his body refused to cooperate.

Only then did Irina notice his leg—bent at an unnatural angle.

Oh for fuck's sake—

She made her decision before the thought even finished forming.

The injured man barely had time to react before a familiar blue ring appeared in front of him. The blood surged forward—only to slam into the shield, splattering harmlessly before rebounding again. A stray droplet smacked him in the face with a wet splat.

Before he could even sputter in protest, he was yanked up by the back of his collar and unceremoniously thrown over someone's shoulder.

"YOU—FEMALE! "

"If you want to die so badly, I can drop you," she said flatly, shifting his weight before taking a few quick steps back.

One of his teammates made to follow, but Irina raised a hand to stop him. "I can handle this little," she said, voice firm. "Deal with the altar."

Had the situation been any less dire, she might have laughed. Four grown men, chanting desperately to summon another lightning strike while simultaneously managing sealed artifacts. Meanwhile, she—barely 1.60m if you didn't count her heels—was effortlessly dodging attacks, all while carrying a 1.90m bulk of a man over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

The surging blood continued its relentless assault, forming weapons, striking wildly—but every attack either missed or shattered against her shields.

Klein calmly retrieved his hat as Bishop Millet's Beyonder characteristic fully condensed—a small, translucent blue piece streaked with occasional waves of green and black. Without hesitation, he reloaded his revolver with a prepared speedloader, discarded the spent casings, and pocketed the characteristic with little regard.

Turning back, he flicked a paper figurine, igniting it midair into scarlet embers that scattered like dying fireworks.

"How cool..." Denton whispered, momentarily forgetting his pain.

Klein barely acknowledged the remark. "Leave this area," he ordered. Taking the Sun Brooch and Azik's copper whistle from Elland and Danitz respectively, he walked away with the others instinctively following in silence.

As they passed the battlefield, Cleves and Cecile froze. Cracks webbed the ground as evidence of a much fiercer fight than they had perceived. A shiver ran down their spines as they hastened their pace, both terrified and reassured of Gehrman's strength.

Minutes later, Klein stopped outside the telegraph office. "Do you want to send a telegram?" he asked Elland, then, in the same deadpan tone, warned, "Do not force your way in."

Elland knocked. "Who is it?" a man's voice responded from inside.

The Captain frowned. The previous clerk on duty had been a woman. "I'd like to send a telegram. Who are you?"

"I'm... Paavo Court, Melanie's colleague. She's right here. She's fine," the voice replied flatly.

Melanie's voice followed, eerily still. "Yes... I'm doing very well. Paavo Court... is back."

Elland hesitated but proceeded cautiously. "Can you send a telegram for me and pass the draft under the door?"

Moments later, a slip of paper slid out. As Elland bent to pick it up, a faint scent of blood hit him. He stiffened, then glanced at Gehrman, whose gaze remained unreadable.

"Return to the ship," Gehrman stated coldly before walking into the mist.

Without hesitation, Danitz and the others followed. After a brief pause, Elland clutched the telegram draft and ran after them.

Behind them, the telegraph office fell into an unnatural silence.

The group encountered no more headless figures, only a few moldy heads easily dealt with.

After what felt like an endless walk, the White Agate finally came into view, light glowing warmly from some of its portholes.

The sight renewed everyone's strength, and they quickened their pace, reaching the gangway in a near jog. Klein remained below, cane in hand, watching over them until they boarded. Then, he turned back to the harbor.

Irina, where did you go?

Not seeing her, he leaped onto the deck with ease.

Elland was already in motion, rallying his officers, preparing the cannons, and readying the ship to depart if needed. Though leaving at night was dangerous, staying in Bansy Harbor was worse.

"Uncle Sparrow..." Donna approached hesitantly, gripping her brother's hand.

Klein pointed to the cabin. "Go back to your room. We'll talk tomorrow."

Her frown deepened. "But where is Aunty Jeager?"

"She'll be back later."

Denton tensed. "But it's dangerous! Aren't you going to help her?"

The crew turned to Klein, waiting for his response.

He let the silence linger before answering with a steady voice. "Elena is more than capable of handling them."

"But—"

"She's stronger than me." His tone was absolute. "Those monsters won't be a problem for her."

Stronger?! Danitz barely held back a scoff. What nonsense is he spouting? He shut her out of the church! Even her lantern was still outside. She's dead! Just admit it.

Klein, unmoved, nodded toward the cabin. "Now go rest. You'll see her tomorrow."

Though doubtful, exhaustion won out. If Uncle Gehrman said so, then it must be true.

Once the families were inside, Klein tossed a thumb-sized object to Elland. "If any Mandated Punishers are still alive, return this."

Elland caught it, not recognizing its significance.

A bishop's Beyonder characteristic would be highly sought after by the Church of Storms. Klein had no interest in becoming their next target.

The Captain smirked. "I'll let them know you and Ms. Jeager were with me."

So, we'll be considered MI9 by the Church? Klein gave a slight nod.

Elland then turned to Danitz. "Blazing?"

Danitz chuckled dryly. "Guess."

"Then I don't think so," Elland replied with tacit understanding.

With that settled, Klein returned to the ship's edge, eyes fixed on the fog-shrouded harbor, waiting.

On the distant peak overlooking the shore, the storm reached its climax. Lightning cracked through the darkness, illuminating the heavens in a violent display of silver and violet.

The mountain trembled beneath the sheer force of it, as though the storm itself was enraged. And then, just as suddenly, it died down, leaving behind an eerie silence.

The thick fog in Bansy Harbor thinned, revealing the crimson glow of the moon, clearer than before.

Is it over?

Even as the quiet settled, Klein didn't let himself relax.

High above on the mountain, Irina exhaled sharply. I am DONE with this whole charade.

With an utter lack of care, she shrugged the injured man off her shoulder and let him drop to the ground. He hit the dirt with a choked grunt, clutching his broken leg

A sharp glare burned in his eyes as he spouted with pure hatred. "YOU WO—"

"'Woman' and 'female,' yes, yes." She waved a dismissive hand, already walking toward her ruined jacket. "Truly, your wit astounds me. Are all Mandated Punishers this unoriginal with their insults, or is it just your wounded ego talking?"

"YOU—"

"Who are you?"

A new voice cut through the crimson-tinged forest—cold and authoritative. She turned toward the source. It was one of the Mandated Punishers who had never engaged her directly, instead focusing on the altar.

Unlike the others, he had power. More than them, at least. Her activated Spirit Vision told her as much.

She tilted her head, unimpressed. "Elena Jeager. An adventurer." She gathered her coat from the ground and dusted it off. Still torn. Still dirty.

She sighed internally. I'll make Danitz wash it later—maybe it can still be saved.

"I've never heard that name." His voice was steady, yet Irina sensed something—subtle, almost calculating, as if he were weighing her every word. "Are you really an adventurer?"

She rolled her eyes. The Church of Storms is beyond saving... or maybe I'm just biased because I used to be a 'believer' of the Evernight Goddess...

Movement flickered at the edge of her vision.

Two of his subordinates' spirituality shifted.

Don't tell me...

She barely had time to narrow her eyes before the man spoke again. "Not even an answer?"

His tone had changed, now sounding way colder.

This man—

She turned to retort, but he was faster.

"Ms. Pirate."

Irina's body was locked in place again, the same sensation as earlier.

Then they moved. All at once, they surged toward her, closing in at full speed.