In the supernatural world, authorities came in fixed categories, but abilities varied widely based on an individual's comprehension of those authorities. Since nearly everyone developed something different, it was difficult to gauge an ability strictly by raw strength; one could only judge whether it was useful or useless.
And the ability of this particular priest was... rather useless.
First of all, it only worked on murder cases. Second, the time of death could not exceed ten minutes. But most critically, it could only sense the killer's location at the exact moment of the murder.
Since the perpetrator of the vast majority of homicides was present at the crime scene anyway, the practical scope of this ability was exceedingly narrow. Yet one had to admit that under certain specific circumstances, it proved exceptionally handy.
Like right now.
Thanks to Lynch's meticulous deduction, the culprit had been forced to act prematurely and kill the puppets on the spot, fitting neatly within the ability's strict time limit.
In such a short window, and with the docks under lockdown, escaping would be nearly impossible for them.
Knight Rick immediately ordered the sailors to assemble in preparation for a raid on the target, while Lynch and Trinlais remained inside the medical cabin, watching the priest's actions with bated breath.
【Authority: Death, Ability: Vengeance of the Departed】
The moment the ability took effect, a gentle breeze swept past.
The air turned chillingly cold, oppressive, dread-inducing, and desolate. Despairing groans and wails echoed faintly within the breeze, sending chills down one's spine.
It did not belong to the world of light, standing only for death and finality. It was as though the worlds of the living and the dead converged at this very moment, allowing the living to peer into the secrets of the underworld. For an instant, Lynch seemed to see a surging river stretching before his eyes, upon which countless flickering green flames drifted and bobbed.
A sight that ought to inspire terror instead brought Lynch an inexplicable sense of familiarity and peace, as if he were reuniting with an old friend.
‘Is death your authority as well?’
【Mm.】
“I see it! Right on the docks!” Just as Lynch was bothering his personal deity, the priest, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, suddenly cried out in pleasant surprise. Taking the map of the docks handed to him by a soldier, he marked the exact location.
It truly was on the docks, and not far from the long pier where the great ship was berthed—a mere forty or fifty meters away.
At the edge of the square stood several rows of small warehouses available for rent to passing cargo ships for temporary storage. When the docks had been locked down earlier, only the surrounding workers and travelers were contained; no one had paid attention to those locked warehouses.
That was the place. Who would have thought they were hiding within fifty meters? Still, it worked out for the best; the area had been under lockdown from the start, making it impossible for anyone to come or go. Trapped inside, the enemy would have nowhere to run.
In the blink of an eye, a large detachment moved in.
It looked nothing like the scenes from police movies in his past life, much to Lynch's disappointment.
There were no squad cars or wailing sirens filling the streets, nor was there anyone holding a megaphone shouting for them to drop their weapons and surrender. Instead, everyone moved stealthily around both flanks of the warehouse, with at least forty rifles aimed at its perimeter from all angles.
The door was padlocked from the outside, appearing completely normal on the surface. However, four priests of knightly rank were already standing by under Rick's lead. They concealed themselves behind a stack of cargo not far from the warehouse doors. Once the sailors had fully established their perimeter, Knight Rick clenched his fist once more and punched into empty air.
Simultaneously, the shadows around the warehouse rippled, condensing into a fist of pure darkness at the entrance before slamming violently against the doors. The heavy solid-wood doors shattered into splinters, blasting inward like artillery shells.
An instant later, gunfire erupted.
The soldiers stationed at the front fired in unison the moment the door gave way, unleashing a deafening roar of gunfire.
Gunsmoke billowed, bullets flew, and sparks flared ceaselessly around the warehouse entrance.
As the volley ceased, Rick drew his sword and charged forward alongside four black-robed knights, each holding a sword in one hand and a revolver in the other. With one in front and four behind, the five of them charged with the momentum of an entire army, storming into the pitch-black entrance of the warehouse.
“Move in!”
At the commanding officer's shout, more than a dozen rifle-bearing sailors followed close behind, charging fearlessly inside. Moments later, sharp shouts and stern reprimands echoed from the darkness.
The entire operation was blindingly fast. Lynch barely had time to register what was happening when it started, and certainly not when it ended.
Were they cops from a certain country? Why empty the entire magazine right off the bat?
He found himself dearly missing the gentle Officer Natalie. Being pinned to the floor was far more tender than being greeted by a hail of bullets.
But had they actually caught the enemy?
Hearing the commotion inside subside, Lynch could no longer suppress his curiosity and slipped into the warehouse as well.
Before his eyes could adjust to the change in light, a heavy stench of blood hit Lynch's nose. Clearly, someone really had been hiding inside.
Soon, his vision adjusted to the dim gaslight, and Lynch finally got a clear view of the interior.
The warehouse wasn't large and held no cargo. Only three people had been hiding along the edges. One of them had already been riddled like a sieve, lying motionless on the ground and bleeding profusely.
Another held a pair of revolvers, but his head had been severed, clearly by a sword strike. The blade in Knight Rick's hand was still dripping with blood, leaving little doubt about what had transpired.
The third had taken two non-fatal bullet wounds and was sprawled on the ground, wailing in pain while two soldiers forcefully pinned and bound him.
Taking a closer look, the two dead men were powerfully built and fierce-looking, clad in tattered coarse cloth. Their skin was tanned dark from the sun and covered in scars, with specks of white salt lingering in their hair—clearly sailors who had spent years living at sea.
The wounded man, while not dressed in formal attire, was neatly clothed. He had a wispy mustache and a crafty expression, his eyes darting around erratically even in his current predicament.
“Two pirates and a smuggler,” Rick said with a dark expression and a bitter tone. “They're all ordinary people. Neither Davis nor the Flicker cultists are here.”
“Did we get the wrong place?” Lynch's expression turned conflicted. “We didn't hit the wrong people, did we?”
“People who lock themselves in from the inside and hide in the dark under these circumstances don't count as collateral damage. And even if they were... may the Lord bless their souls. Amen.” Knight Rick drew a cross over his chest. “Actually, this sort of combination is quite common. A smuggler familiar with the local terrain helps find a safe house, hiding the wanted criminals until they're ready to strike. Most likely, the two Soul Severers escaped in time, leaving behind three ordinary people who couldn't get away fast enough. But no matter—we still have a live one. Living water thieves aren't worth much since their mouths are hard to pry open, but smugglers are different. They still value their lives, or he wouldn't be wailing so loudly on purpose.”
With that, he signaled the officer with a glance. The officer immediately stepped forward and kicked the smuggler right in his wound.
“Shut up right now. Make another sound, and I'll put another hole in you.”
The agonizing screams ceased instantly as the sailors hoisted the smuggler up.
“Mercy! I had no idea they were going to do something like this!” the smuggler cried with a miserable face. “I just wanted to earn a little pocket money. How was I supposed to know they would...”
“You know how the military operates, so cut the bullshit. Answer honestly and you'll live, plus get a one-pound bounty. Lie, and you die. Simple as that.”
The officer held a one-pound note in one hand and drew his sword with the other:
“Talk. Where are the others?”
The smuggler immediately reached for the banknote. “They ran!”
“How many?”
“Two!”
“When?”
“Two minutes ago!”
“Bullshit! Two minutes ago, the docks were crawling with soldiers. How could they have escaped?”
“It's true, Captain! They vanished in a flash!” The smuggler pointed toward the corner of the wall. “Right over there! It looked like they dropped something too, but before we could go check, you barged in!”
Hm?
Lynch signaled the soldiers not to approach to prevent them from being affected by the mystery, then walked over himself.
A slip of paper lay on the ground. Turning it over, he saw that it was indeed another portrait of the Ancient Flicker.
“I don't know how they escaped either, but they hid a speedboat nearby. They must have fled there, though I have no idea where it's hidden!”
“That's no longer important.”
Knight Rick let out a sigh and looked out toward the water alongside Lynch. Boats shuttled back and forth across the river, with small skiffs being the most numerous.
Just one step too late, and they had gotten away. Finding them now would be no easy task.
Rate on N.U.
