South Tivian, Bishop’s Square.
On the square, amidst the New Year celebrations, the crowd cheered under the guidance of the stage host. Fireworks, prepared long in advance, exploded in the sky at the stroke of midnight, their dazzling sparks lighting up the night. The entire city of Tivian was welcoming the arrival of the new year.
But at the same time, it was also a moment of slaughter.
On the rooftop of a building at the edge of Bishop’s Square, Nephthys crouched over a corpse, her tongue lightly tasting the blood of her prey. At this moment, she could feel a deep tremor in her soul, a surge of power radiating through her body. Under the influence of the wild spirit Soulwhisker, she had mastered the hunting techniques of the wild beasts.
Without hesitation, Nephthys launched another attack amidst the stunned onlookers. She pounced on another masked watcher, her limbs moving like a predator’s. The Apprentice-rank Shader hastily rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding her strike. He gripped his dagger and thrust it toward Nephthys in a desperate counterattack, but she easily sidestepped the blow. Seizing the opportunity, she bit down on the wrist that had extended during the thrust. With a spray of blood, the watcher’s wrist was nearly severed by the immense force of her bite. In excruciating pain, he let out a piercing scream.
The intense pain and the loss of control over his arm left the watcher almost unable to continue fighting. Nephthys took advantage of the moment and slashed his throat with her claws, bringing down another prey. But her hunt was far from over. Her vertical pupils shifted, locking onto the third watcher not far away.
After witnessing the swift deaths of his two companions, the last watcher couldn’t help but feel a surge of fear when Nephthys’s gaze fell upon him. Realizing he stood no chance against her, he turned and fled in panic. However, exposing his back to a predator was a foolish decision.
Nephthys had no intention of letting him escape. After a brief moment of preparation, she lunged at the fleeing figure with incredible speed. Just as he was about to open the door to descend the stairs, she pounced on him from behind and swiftly ended his life with her claws.
In a short span of time, Nephthys, who had only recently advanced to Soulbinder, had personally hunted and killed three Shadow-path Apprentices. Her methods were ruthlessly efficient, something that the usually refined and scholarly Nephthys, a wealthy young lady and top student, would never have been capable of. These predatory tactics were undoubtedly influenced by Soulwhisker.
The abilities of a Soulbinder are straightforward: they use their own body as a vessel to host a spirit, allowing them to recreate the skills and techniques of the spirit they are bound to.Of course, this binding is not simply about letting a spirit control an ordinary body. The body of a Soulbinder is special, undergoing unique changes based on the spirit they host. These changes allow the spirit to exert power beyond what it could in life. After being bound to Soulwhisker, parts of Nephthys’s body had even begun to take on feline characteristics. For example, her nails had become sharper without her noticing, and her body had become incredibly agile. Without these changes, a human body would not be able to fully execute the hunting movements of a lynx.
Unlike some other Beyonder pathways, the strength of a Soulbinder fluctuates significantly. This largely depends on the strength of the spirit they are bound to. The more powerful the spirit, the greater the abilities the Soulbinder can unleash. Of course, this is also limited by the Soulbinder’s own rank.
Soulwhisker is a wild spirit from the New Continent, inherently far more powerful than ordinary spirits. As a spirit chosen by the environment to represent it, Soulwhisker was an exceptional predator in life. By binding with Nephthys, it greatly enhanced her abilities.
With the first stage of Chalice enhancement, the hunting experience and techniques of Soulwhisker, and the amplification of the spirit’s strength on the Soulbinder’s abilities... Under all these enhancements, the Apprentice-rank Shaders, who were only at the first stage of Shadow enhancement, were no match for Nephthys. In a short time, they were completely hunted down. Due to adopting the combat experience of Soulwhisker, Nephthys was inevitably influenced by its consciousness, her behavior resembling that of a lynx.
The indigenous people who witnessed this scene were left wide-eyed in shock. In their panic, they instinctively aimed their weapons at Nephthys, who now seemed as dangerous as the wild beasts they had encountered in their homeland.
On the other side, seeing that the three watchers had been killed and Kapak was still alive, Sado grew anxious and decided to take matters into his own hands. He rushed toward Kapak, intending to push him off the rooftop, ensuring no one could stop him from inciting the crowd.
Facing the aggressive Sado, Kapak was well-prepared. Before coming, he had applied a Devouring Sigil sent by Dorothy through a corpse marionette. Thus, he was confident in a direct confrontation. He easily blocked Sado’s attack, then flipped him to the ground with a swift motion. Following up with a punch to Sado’s face, he knocked him unconscious. No matter how strong a hunter was, they couldn’t stand against someone empowered by mystical abilities.
Seeing their leader Sado easily defeated, the indigenous people grew even more uncertain. After dealing with Sado, Kapak stood up straight and, under the fireworks in the sky, addressed his fellow tribesmen once more.
"Put down your weapons, everyone. I will take you back. We will fight for our people in the right way."
Kapak’s words, combined with the example set by their leader’s surrender, the elder’s advice, and the defeat of their leader, finally swayed the indigenous people. After exchanging glances, they gradually lowered their weapons. Seeing this, Kapak finally breathed a sigh of relief.
…
"Ah... It seems things are settled over there..."
Meanwhile, backstage at the Bishop’s Square stage, Adèle looked out the window toward the distant rooftop. From her position, she could just make out the group of indigenous people standing in confrontation. Just moments ago, she had used the last of her innate spirituality to give Kapak and the others a slight boost, helping the wavering indigenous people make their decisions.
For those with firm resolve, Adèle’s abilities had limited effect. But for those who were hesitant and uncertain, even a small amount of her spirituality could have a significant impact. After Kapak’s earlier persuasion, the indigenous people’s hearts were already in a state of indecision. However, blood feuds were not something that could be easily resolved with just a few words. To be safe, Dorothy had asked Adèle to use a bit of her ability to help Kapak, aiding his tribesmen in making their decision.
After all, as a performer on stage, Adèle was more than willing to protect her audience.
“With this, the threat to the audience is completely eliminated. Now, all that’s left are the two assassins targeting the royal family. I hope Detective can handle things smoothly.”
Adèle thought to herself, then turned her gaze to the rooftop on the other side of the square, where an even more intense battle was taking place.
…
Time rewinds slightly, one minute before the countdown.
On the rooftop of a building on the other side of Bishop’s Square, a man dressed as a guard took a rifle made of brass and white wood from a prepared wooden box and walked to the edge of the rooftop.
Amidst the cheers of the audience in the square below, Berlit, standing at the edge of the rooftop, pressed a mechanism on the rifle. A small, narrow opening appeared on the side of the gun. He then pulled out several shiny gold coins stamped with a sun emblem from his pocket and inserted them one by one into the rifle. After loading five coins, he pulled the bolt, chambering a bullet.
Berlit aimed the rifle at the royal balcony in the distance. As he took aim, another mechanism on the side of the rifle clicked into place. Under the action of some unknown device, three circular lenses emerged from the gun, supported by thin brackets, overlapping in front of Berlit’s eyes. Through these lenses, he could clearly see the balcony hundreds of meters away.
"Now... we just wait for the performance of the indigenous people..."
Berlit murmured with a smile as he watched the duke and princess chatting and laughing on the balcony, along with their bodyguards. At this moment, he could hear the host on the stage below urging the crowd to begin the countdown.
Just as Berlit prepared to join the countdown, he noticed something unexpected. Through the lenses, he saw a man dressed as a guard captain suddenly enter the balcony. After apologizing to the princess and duke, he pulled one of the bodyguards inside for a while.
When the bodyguard returned, he began discussing something with the other bodyguards. Then, to Berlit’s surprise, he led all the bodyguards, including Berlit’s accomplice, back inside.
Although Berlit could see the reluctance on his accomplice’s face, there was nothing he could do.
Berlit didn’t know why his accomplice had been called inside, but being away from the assassination target just as the operation was about to begin was clearly a problem!
"Has Jeffery been exposed...?"
Frowning, Berlit muttered with concern as he watched the commotion on the balcony. However, he didn’t have time to worry about his companion. With Jeffery forced to leave, the assassination mission now fell entirely on his shoulders.
Gripping his rifle tightly, Berlit focused even more intently on his aim. But at that moment, he suddenly felt a disturbance in the air behind him, and a chill ran down his spine.
Sensing danger, Berlit immediately turned to dodge, but he was too late. A sharp blade slashed across his left shoulder, and with a crisp sound, he was knocked to the ground. He quickly rolled away, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
" Cough... cough... An ambush... When did...?"
Clutching his wounded left shoulder, blood dripping from his mouth, Berlit struggled to his feet. His gaze fell on the figure who had attacked him, and he saw a white cloak fluttering in the cold wind, a lifeless white mask beneath the hood, and a slender ruby-encrusted sword in the figure’s hand, dripping with his blood.
“A masked... white swordsman? Why did they appear here...?”
Berlit gritted his teeth as he thought to himself. He wasn’t too surprised by how the figure had approached him silently, as with the right sigils, it wasn’t difficult to sneak up on someone unnoticed. The real question was how his location had been discovered. He hadn’t sensed any Lantern-path detection, so why had he been exposed so suddenly!?
Berlit’s mind raced with frustration. If it weren’t for the Stone mystical item he carried, which automatically activated a powerful stone skin effect to resist attacks when he was struck, the force of that sword slash would have cost him an arm. As it was, the only damage he suffered was extensive skin breakage and bleeding at the site of the strike.
"Who are you? Who do you serve?"
After quickly injecting himself with a blood-red potion to heal his wounds, Berlit stood up and shouted at his attacker. But the white-cloaked swordsman gave no response, simply gripping their sword and charging at Berlit.
Seeing the swordsman’s attack, Berlit immediately drew his own sword to counter. He infused his blade with Shadow enchantment and began to clash with the white-cloaked swordsman.
Third stage Shadow, second stage Chalice, and Shadow enchantment—this combination made for a formidable close-combat Beyonder. With speed like a blur and strength capable of shattering steel, a vampire’s close-combat abilities were among the best of all White Ash-rank Beyonders. Thus, Berlit was confident in facing the swordsman head-on.
Based on the strength the white-cloaked swordsman had displayed earlier, Berlit deduced that they were likely a Chalice-path Beyonder, with slightly greater strength than himself—at least at second stage Chalice enhancement, but not reaching the exaggerated levels of the third stage. Therefore, Berlit assumed the swordsman was using some sigils to enhance their natural Chalice abilities.
If their strength wasn’t at the third stage Chalice enhancement, then they couldn’t be something like a werewolf. Moreover, there were no signs of transformation. Since they weren’t a werewolf, and their sword wasn’t on fire, they couldn’t be a Holy Knight or something similar... After ruling out several close-combat-oriented Beyonder pathways, Berlit concluded that the swordsman’s close-combat abilities shouldn’t be too threatening. Thus, he confidently engaged in battle.
As the countdown on the stage ended and the fireworks lit up the sky, the rooftop became a stage for their duel. Under the multicolored glow of the fireworks, afterimages flickered across the platform, and the crisp sounds of clashing blades echoed continuously.
As the real close-quarters combat began, Berlit and the white-cloaked swordsman exchanged several rapid blows. It didn’t take long for Berlit to realize something was wrong.
First, Berlit noticed that although the white-cloaked swordsman was far slower than him, they seemed to be able to predict his attacks. No matter how unpredictable his strikes were, the swordsman always managed to block them in advance. Despite Berlit’s speed, his movements were completely read, and the swordsman used their superior skill to counter his attacks with minimal effort.
After a brief exchange, Berlit concluded that the swordsman was a master of swordsmanship far beyond his own level. Such skill could bridge a significant gap in raw power.
Second, although Berlit had enchanted his sword with Shadow, and the swordsman had repeatedly used their blade to block his attacks, their weapon showed no signs of breaking under the Shadow enchantment’s erosion. Curious, Berlit paid closer attention to the state of the swordsman’s weapon.
Under Berlit’s scrutiny, he saw that the swordsman’s weapon—a slender blade—was indeed covered in cracks and chips from their clashes. Many parts of the blade were already damaged, with visible gaps.
Despite being battered, the sword did not shatter. Instead, it stubbornly resisted the erosion of the Shadow enchantment, like a wounded beast that refused to fall, its vitality unyielding.
This was no mere metaphor. As Berlit observed, the cracks on the blade glowed with an unnatural blood-red hue. Within the gaps, tiny tendrils of flesh seemed to writhe, and the large ruby on the hilt emitted a faint red light. Berlit could sense a strong Chalice aura emanating from the sword.
The sword was healing itself! It was using its own Chalice power to mend its wounds! This sword was alive—a true living weapon!
The living mystical sword barely resisted the erosion of Shadow, preventing Berlit from breaking through the swordsman’s defenses by destroying their weapon.
A self-regenerating, bizarre living weapon and extraordinary swordsmanship—these were the two main challenges the white-cloaked swordsman posed to Berlit. However, neither of these was the most critical issue. What truly troubled Berlit was something else.
This was the increasingly intense pain and discomfort coming from his shoulder!
Yes, Berlit’s wound was hurting. The injury from the sneak attack was still painful, and the pain was growing stronger, spreading further. It was beginning to affect Berlit’s movements.
Originally, Berlit’s greatest advantage over the white-cloaked swordsman was his speed. The speed of a third stage Shadow enhancement was terrifying. Although the swordsman’s superior skill could partially offset the difference in raw power, the speed gap brought by third stage Shadow enhancement was immense—too large to be fully bridged by skill alone. If Berlit were fighting at full strength, the swordsman’s skill, no matter how advanced, wouldn’t be enough to overcome the overwhelming speed difference.
However, the severe discomfort from his injury prevented Berlit from unleashing his full potential. His third stage Shadow enhancement advantage was completely neutralized, leaving him unable to gain the upper hand in the battle against the white-cloaked swordsman.
The worsening injury hindered Berlit’s performance, but this raised another question. Before the battle, Berlit had injected himself with a blood potion to heal his wounds using his vampire abilities. However, the potion seemed to have no effect. Not only did his shoulder wound fail to heal, but it also appeared to be worsening.
Why hadn’t the blood potion worked?
This question plagued Berlit. Seizing an opportunity, he quickly retreated several steps, creating distance between himself and the white-cloaked swordsman. He tore open the clothing around his left shoulder to inspect the wound. What he saw shocked him.
On Berlit’s left shoulder, the area where the sword strike had landed no longer showed the mark of the blade. Instead, it was covered in disgusting pustules and tumors. Oozing sores and swollen veins crisscrossed the skin, some even bursting through the surface and tangling together. Pus flowed between the tumors, creating a horrifying and nauseating sight.