Alger had deliberately let himself be found, which meant he certainly had something to fall back on. But Qilangos didn't believe Alger could possibly have the strength to take him on — unless Alger had asked the Church for help, and in that case, his past betrayals and collaboration would inevitably come to light.
No matter how badly Alger wanted him dead, he wouldn't dare take that kind of risk. At most he'd have recruited a few helpers of comparable strength — which was actually convenient. There were some abilities Grazed by Creeping Hunger that Qilangos wasn't particularly satisfied with anyway.
He had to admit: ever since acquiring Creeping Hunger and becoming a Pirate Admiral, Qilangos had grown considerably more arrogant than before. And that wasn't just from the power itself — it was the shadowy organisation behind him.
Qilangos crouched by the wall, studied the mark carefully, then stood and headed in the direction it indicated. Sure enough, a few hundred metres away in another alley, he found an identical mark on a wall.
He read it, then continued following the trail.
Twenty-odd minutes later, Qilangos arrived at the docks. He gave his right hand a light squeeze, switching to the Nightmare ability, and activated it toward the area ahead — pulling any targets within range into a dream.
This wasn't about dragging anyone into a nightmare. It was a way to determine how many people Alger had brought to deal with him. If there were too many, Qilangos would simply retreat.
But after confirming, he discovered that only one person was waiting for him — and it was Alger himself. This abnormality, rather than putting him at ease, made Qilangos's guard go up.
Still, the chance to kill Alger was right in front of him. Walking away empty-handed would leave a bitter taste.
He narrowed his eyes and thought for a dozen or so seconds before making his decision: launch a single strike in the shortest possible time. Success or failure, withdraw immediately.
With that, he decisively pulled Alger into a dream, then launched himself forward like a leopard — thanks to Creeping Hunger, the wearer could still move their physical body while in a Nightmare state.
When he was barely ten metres from Alger, he drew a large-calibre revolver with his left hand and switched to the Psychologist ability with his right. Shock and Frenzy, fired simultaneously.
In an instant, Alger — only just awoken from the dream — was visibly overcome by terror and madness, his body flailing about uncontrollably.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three bullets in rapid succession, aimed straight for Alger's head, throat, and heart — clearly intended to kill in one blow. But a fraction of a second before they struck, Alger's body twisted at extraordinary speed, dodging them.
This was his golden mask, crafted from Beyonder characteristics of a werewolf variety — it enhanced speed, strength, and recovery. The downside was that the more he used it, the less human he became.
Even as he dodged the bullets, Alger drew his own revolver and fired back.
Qilangos wasn't surprised. Lightning crackled in his eyes — a Psychic Pierce from the Interrogator soul. Alger's body shuddered violently. It felt as though a blade had been driven straight into his brain and then stirred, nearly making him lose control entirely.
Immediately after, Qilangos switched to Priest of Light, opened both arms in an embracing posture, and a searing beam of light descended from above, engulfing Alger.
"It's over."
The dazzling radiance lit up the excitement on Qilangos's face, as though in the next second he'd see his lifelong enemy burnt to charcoal by the blazing heat.
And then — without any warning — everything before his eyes vanished. Alger, the searing light, the flames, the heat — all of it disappeared in the blink of an eye.
In his line of sight, there was only a single match, fallen on the ground.
Mystical Re-enactment — The Little Match Girl.
In other words, everything he'd just experienced had been an illusion.
"Since when—?"
A chill shot through Qilangos's heart. He made to flee using Flight, but the spirituality within his body seemed frozen solid — completely unusable. Looking down, he found himself encased in a block of amber, and a few metres away stood two people.
One was Alger, expression complicated. The other was a stranger — a man he didn't recognise.
Complicated didn't begin to describe what Alger was feeling. He'd expected tonight to be a life-or-death gamble, a mission where danger and opportunity walked hand in hand.
Instead, the moment Qilangos appeared, he'd been plunged into a bottomless illusion, fighting thin air in a one-man show, and then the Starlight Cage had locked him down and stripped him of any ability to resist.
Even though Alger was only Sequence 7, he'd seen Sequence 5 Beyonders in action more than a few times. He was almost certain that "the Lovers" was far more than Sequence 5.
In other words — they were at least a demigod.
No wonder he'd always felt during their gatherings that "the Lovers" seemed somehow out of place, subtly detached from the group. Now it made sense — as a demigod, it really would be difficult to engage naturally in conversation with a handful of low-Sequence Beyonders.
"Thank you, Madam Lovers."
Alger bowed, then drew his pistol and walked up to the furious, despairing Qilangos, levelling the barrel at his head. At that moment, Bernadette spoke in an even tone: "He can't die yet."
Alger froze, wanting to say something but hesitating.
"Relax. I simply have a use for him. Once I'm done, I'll deal with him accordingly." She paused, then continued: "Where's the evidence I asked for?"
"What?"
"Didn't Mr. Lovers tell you last time? I need you to gather enough evidence to convict Qilangos and sentence him to death."
"???"
So you're the "friend" that Mr. Lovers mentioned — that partner of Justice.
Though he didn't understand, Alger raised no questions. "I prepared it long ago, but I don't have it on me."
Bernadette snapped her fingers, and beanstalk vines surged forth, piercing into the amber of the Starlight Cage and binding Qilangos layer upon layer.
Alger stared fixedly at the glove on Qilangos's right hand. He knew perfectly well that the reason a mere Sequence 6 Qilangos had risen to the rank of Pirate Admiral was entirely thanks to that extraordinary item.
Too bad — just being the bait wasn't enough to earn a share of the spoils.
Vincent, looking at the Creeping Hunger right before his eyes, felt a pang of something almost like regret: Without this "divine artifact," will Klein still manage to thrive on the seas later on?
Hm, in the original story Creeping Hunger eventually "merged" with Mr. A and evolved. I wonder if it could fuse with my blood-drinking bracer too?
"Hah."
Suddenly, a long, drawn-out sigh drifted over.
Bernadette whipped her head to the side, and in that instant, the spirituality within her surged violently.
There, not far away, a figure had appeared — when, nobody could say. He wore a plain white priestly robe, had a thick, pale-gold beard that covered the lower half of his face, golden eyes, and held a silver cross pendant in one hand. His expression was calm and gentle.
To be continued…
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