GLORIOUS BELLCROFT

Queen Mirage retrieved her dagger with a clean, expert pull. The blade was glinting with fresh blood. She stepped over Bellcroft's twitching body. 

Her gaze was sweeping across the remaining survivors. Her smirk was widening. "Now then..." She declared. Her voice was carrying a newfound authority. "Who would like to be next to volunteer their life? Or treasures?"

Silas Boulder let out a crude laugh. "You think you're in charge now, little witch? You just started a bloodbath." 

He drew his heavy revolver. The enormous barrel was glinting. It wasn't a standard Steamrune firearm. Jack guessed the design was geared for immense power burst. 

"That old fool Bellcroft might be an idiot. But he was strong. You... not so much." He said.

He clearly didn't fear the backstabbing woman. Either because he was dumb enough. Or because he had a hidden trump card.

"A bold claim for a one-legged dog." Queen Mirage retorted. Her eyes were narrowing. 

She waved her hand. And thin, swirling mist began to gather around her feet. Her hand snapped up. Tendrils of pale mist writhed from her fingertips. Expanding with unnatural speed. 

In an instant, the vast, echoing throne hall was swallowed by a thick, oppressive fog. It wasn't just visual obstruction. It carried a chill that bit at the skin. A dampness that clung to clothes. And a silence that swallowed screams. 

Visibility dropped to less than a meter distance. Shapes blurred. then vanished.

Silas Boulder, already tense, reacted on instinct. His single good leg propelled him backward. In a jerky, desperate jump. His revolver barked. 

BANG!

A blind shot splitting the fog. The bullet's destination was unknown. He cursed. A raw sound lost in the encroaching white.

Chaos erupted.

Dr. Crafton's grimoire flared. A shimmering, opaque Water Wall erupted before him. A solid, rippling barrier against the unknown threats. 

Behind him, Chloe slammed her own grimoire open. Her young face set in grim determination. Water Bullets! 

Tens of spherical projectiles launched from her outstretched hands. Each was the size of a golf ball. They tore through the Water Wall. Propelled by her will. Punching holes in the dense fog.

Jack, the invisible observer, noted the harmlessness of Chloe's spell. She hadn't mastered this. Her Water Bullets weren't strong enough to cause harm. 

They would just be good enough to soak, to disorient, perhaps to douse small flames. They would simply make their targets wet. A minor annoyance in this escalating conflict.

But Leon Drake made this simple spell deadly. With a spell combo. His grimoire pulsed with raw energy. A guttural incantation ripped from his throat. Lightning Strike! 

A jagged bolt of pure electricity snaked through the fog. Crackling with violent blue light. Making a beeline for the aqueous trail left by Chloe's harmless volley. 

The water, which was now dispersed through the hall, became a conduit. Anyone caught in the vicinity of those damp trails, or standing in a puddle, would be electrocuted. 

And looking at the positioning, the 'anyone' would be Queen Mirage and the severely injured Count Bellcroft. 

Queen Mirage, however, was no amateur. She was swift. Her movements were honed by years of cunning and survival. Even before Leon's spell began to charge, she had anticipated it. 

She didn't stand her ground. She dropped. Rolling low and fast sideways. A blur of motion swallowed by the fog. Before the lightning could arc to her position.

Jack senses were not obstructed by the fog though. Now was the time to act. Jack decided. The field was set. The stage was drenched in chaos. His cue.

He didn't hesitate. He stretched his spectral senses. Pinpointing his three targets. The almost-dead Count Bellcroft. Injured, stabbed, electrocuted. The scrambling Silas Boulder. Pale, single legged. And the elusive Queen Mirage. Still in almost perfect condition.

All three were guilty. All three deserved his judgment. He activated his [Mysterious Anomaly] ability. Targeting the perception, senses, and minds of the three sinners.

He dragged them, simultaneously, into nightmares. Full-powered, hyper-realistic nightmares. Each illusion was a tailor-made hell. Ripped from their deepest, unspoken fears.

Silas Boulder... He was a man who prided himself on his self-reliance. And brutal pragmatism. He suddenly found himself paralyzed. His single leg... His remaining source of mobility and escape, was gone. 

It wasn't just numb. But utterly erased from his perception. He couldn't see, feel, or control it. He was falling, tumbling into an endless void. His weapons useless. 

His hardened body was flailing. His mind was screaming with the terror of absolute helplessness. And impending, unavoidable doom. 

He thrashed blindly. His revolver was clattering to the floor. His one remaining good leg was twitching uselessly. The illusion was complete. Brutal, and utterly incapacitating. He was out of the fight. Reduced to a gibbering wreck.

Queen Mirage... She was a master of deception and control. Yet, she suddenly found herself stripped bare. Not just metaphorically. But also physically. Her power, her disguises, her carefully constructed facades, her clothes – all dissolved. 

She was exposed. Vulnerable. Unprotected by illusion. For a few agonizing seconds, she froze. A raw, primal fear gripping her. 

But then, as the illusion tried to drag her deeper, a flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes. Her will was still strong within her uninjured body. It asserted itself against the profound psychic assault. 

Her mind fought back. Tearing at the edges of the illusion. The nightmare buckled. With a violent shudder, she broke free. Gasping. Her face was pale but resolute. She had been affected, yes. But not crippled. She recovered in mere seconds.

Count Bellcroft... used to be the strongest among them all. He, however, was not so fortunate. He was already clinging to life by a thread. Already in nightmarish situation. 

His nightmare was a vivid, crushing replay of his own mortality. His insignificance. His powerlessness. He was on his knees. His blood was spilling onto cold stone. His once-grand life was fading away. Unremembered. Un-mourned. 

He saw his legacy crumble. His name forgotten. His very existence disappeared as if he had never been alive. 

The feeling of absolute, utter oblivion, coupled with the searing pain of his physical wound, was too much. His eyes was already glazed from the real injuries. It now rolled up into his head. 

His breath hitched. With a final, weak gurgle, he simply... died. The illusion, amplified by Jack's will, had delivered the killing blow. A psychic execution on a body already failing to survive.

But Count Bellcroft's death was not the end.

SCREECH-HORK!

A grotesque, sickening alien sound erupted from where the Count lay. His body, already a crumpled heap, began to convulse. 

Not the twitching of dying nerves. But a violent, unnatural rearrangement. Skin stretched and tore. Muscle fibers thickened. And bones cracked with a sound like dry branches snapping underfoot. 

A foul, cloying purple light pulsed from within the cadaver. The fog, for a moment, parted around the horrific spectacle. As if repulsed by its existence.

Then, with an explosive burst of necrotic energy, the corpse of Count Bellcroft detonated. Not into gore, but into something far more abominable.

KA-BOOM!

A creature of purple flesh and twisted, chitinous armor rose from the ruins of the man. It was Bellcroft, yet utterly alien. 

Horns jutted from its head. Its eyes glowed with malevolent purple light. And its mouth was a rictus of needle-sharp teeth. Its form was hulking. Powerful. Yet, a mockery of the human it once was.

Jack, even in his invisible spectral form, felt a cold dread trickle down his non-existent spine. This was not a reanimation. This was... something else.

He quickly activated his [Eyes of Judgement]. The spectral light flared from his unseen face. Piercing the nature of the newly materialized horror. A panel of information snapped into existence before his sight.

[Name: Glorious Bellcroft] 

[Affiliation: Outer Demon Race] 

[Karma: Very Evil] 

[Power Level: Very High] 

[Species: Glorious Demon] 

[Current Status: Perfect Health] 

[Specialty: Demonic Power] 

[Personality: Destructive] 

[Crimes: Mass Murders, Serial Murders, Illegal Human Trafficking,...] 

[Inheritance: None]

Jack stared speechlessly. A grim realization settling deep within him. A Glorious Demon from Outer Demon Race. It should be connected to the Count's previous affiliation. The Order of Glory.

This wasn't just a powerful monster. This was an entity from beyond. A being of pure malice. Now given form. This was terrible. 

The death of the Count, his intended judgment, had not brought peace or closure. It had given birth to an abomination.

The newly formed Glorious Bellcroft, the demon, let out a guttural roar. A roar that rattled the ruined hall. 

Its glowing purple eyes were filled with an ancient, destructive hunger. They locked onto the nearest, most vulnerable targets... Dr. Crafton and Chloe. 

They were still huddled behind the Water Wall. Their faces showed a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

The demon coiled. Its powerful legs were tensing. It launched itself forward. A purple blur. Aiming to tear apart the innocent duo.

Jack reacted instantly. This was his responsibility. He had killed Bellcroft. He had inadvertently paved the way for this creature's arrival. He had to contain it. He had to stop it.

He pushed all the telekinetic might of his [Mysterious Anomaly] into a single, focused blast. Invisible, incorporeal force slammed into the leaping demon from its side. 

It wasn't enough to stop the creature entirely. But it was enough to deflect its trajectory. The Glorious Demon, instead of crashing into Dr. Crafton and Chloe, was violently shunted sideways.

Directly into the path of the incapacitated... Silas Boulder.

The demon landed with an earth-shaking thud. Silas was still trapped in his nightmare. He barely registered the hulking presence. 

Driven by its destructive personality and primordial hunger, the Glorious Demon paid no heed to the man's helpless state. Its clawed hand descended. Massive and razor-sharp.

A wet, tearing sound ripped through the air. Followed by a choked gurgle from Silas. The demon tore through him. Limb from limb. In brutal, efficient motions. 

Blood sprayed. Organs spilled. And bones cracked with sickening finality. It was over in a matter of seconds. 

Silas Boulder... the ruthless mercenary, was reduced to a mangled, unrecognizable mess.

Another of Jack's targets was eliminated. But there was no satisfaction. No sense of accomplishment. Only a deepening grimness. 

He had targeted Count Bellcroft for death. And Silas Boulder had just been caught in the crossfire of the demon's rage. 

But the true enemy, the ultimate consequence of his actions, still stood.

He had to face this demon. He had to defeat it. It appeared because he had killed Count Bellcroft. He was responsible for its existence. And now, he was responsible for stopping it.