Chapitre 42: Firework
That night, the crimson moon was obscured by thick clouds, casting a faint, eerie glow on the clearing. Klein stood poised, his senses heightened as he awaited the inevitable confrontation. The air was thick with tension, every rustle and whisper amplified in the silence of the night. The smell of damp earth mixed with the faint hint of blood, creating a foreboding atmosphere.
Before long, three figures emerged from the shadows, moving with swift precision. The darkness seemed to cling to them, only releasing them as they neared Klein's vantage point.
In the lead was Maric, his hair wild and disheveled, blown back by the wind. His expression was a mix of desperation and determination, every muscle in his body straining as he pushed forward. He moved with an almost supernatural speed, faster than any steam locomotive, reaching the entrance to the clearing in a blur. Despite his incredible speed, his pursuers were relentless.
Closest to Maric was a man with a ghastly pale complexion, marred by dark, indistinct patches that looked like the remnants of healing wounds from rotting flesh. The malice in his eyes was unmistakable, more like a predator's hunger than human emotion. Klein recognized him immediately—Jason, a Sequence 6 Beyonder. Jason's face contorted with an unsettling mix of rage and delight as he chased Maric.
The gap between Jason and Maric fluctuated between seven and eight meters, a deadly game of cat and mouse. Behind them, more than ten meters away, was another figure—a thin but muscular man with short, spiky hair. As he swung his arms, the metallic sheen of his long, black dagger-like fingernails reflected the weak crimson moonlight.
"Werewolf Tyre," Klein whispered to himself, recalling the gruesome scene he had once witnessed—the blood-splattered walls, intestines, and limbs strewn across the ground.
Maric pushed himself to his limits, the ground beneath his feet freezing into white frost. Jason, gritting his teeth, ran as fast as he could, the dark patches on his face swelling ominously, as if about to burst with rotten liquid. The weeds and soil around them withered and decayed, lifted by the wind they created.
Suddenly, a pale hand burst from the frosted ground, gripping Jason's ankle. With a swift kick, Jason shattered the hand's wrist, sending it flying. Rotten flesh and white maggots spilled from the stump, writhing grotesquely on the ground.
Maric halted and pinched his lips, emitting a piercing whistle. The soil in various parts of the clearing erupted as expressionless corpses sat up, their eyes lifeless. A chilling wind swirled, and countless transparent shadows, attracted by the scent of a bloody feast, rushed towards Jason. They grabbed at his arms, legs, and even his head.
Jason grunted, the shadows scattering. Some vanished with pained screams, while others lingered, lost. Both Maric and Jason raised their right hands simultaneously, their thumbs held beside their forefingers, aiming at each other.
The air between them exploded in silence, black wisps of energy billowing upwards. Maric staggered back, a few strands of his hair withering and falling to the ground.
"Maric, you're still so weak. You still don't understand how to use the power of desire," Jason taunted, his voice a low, hoarse laugh, echoing with sinister intent.
At that moment, Werewolf Tyre arrived, his presence a looming threat. His eyes gleamed with a savage delight. "Don't be in such a hurry to finish off Maric. Wait for Sharron to come and save him. Lord Steve is about to arrive," Tyre whispered to Jason, licking his lips with his bright red tongue. "I wonder what Sharron will look like when she has her clothes off…"
Before he could finish, Jason turned his head, his face deathly pale, eyes reflecting two identical figures: a black regal dress, light blonde hair, an exquisite face, and pale skin.
"Sharron!" Klein's mind raced.
Jason struck out, gripping Tyre's neck. Bones creaked under the pressure. Sharron's ethereal form attacked, her incorporeal state giving her a spectral advantage. Tyre's neck bulged grotesquely as he struggled, his right hand reaching into his pocket to crack a preset spirituality seal.
Crimson moonlight flooded the clearing, weakening Sharron's grip. Tyre's smug smile returned as he produced a miniature "full moon" from his pocket, the Scarlet Lunar Corona. The artifact emitted a serene, dark red glow, its rubies and moon symbol radiating power.
Sharron stumbled back, her incorporeal form receding. She collapsed, her black regal dress stained with dust and mud. Tyre raised the crimson accessory, laughing.
"Lord Steve was right. You would definitely attempt a counterattack. And Sharron, you would target Jason. That's why the Scarlet Lunar Corona was given to me. Guess where he is now?"
"You talk too much," Maric's voice cut through the tension, calm and unflustered.
Tyre was puzzled, thinking he had the upper hand. Suddenly, a hand pierced his body from behind. His eyes widened as Sharron's fallen figure turned into a paper figurine—Klein's handiwork.
"Shit!" Tyre muttered as his strength waned. He collapsed, the last thing he saw was Sharron's cold eyes before he died.
A figure emerged from Tyre's dead body, catching Sharron and Maric off guard. Klein quickly drew his gun, aiming at the remembered spot. The dark golden Sunbird brooch on his chest flashed with a ray of light. He added Cleave of Purification to the purifying bullet.
Bang! The bullet shot out with a faint golden beam of light, hitting what seemed like empty space. Resplendent flames erupted, forming a silhouette in a black tuxedo and dark red cloak. The figure's left arm burned with holy flames, emitting faint black and green smoke.
"Wraith Steve!" Klein's heart pounded.
Steve's dark green eyes locked onto Klein, his expression devoid of pain. Klein felt an icy grip on his body, his movements stiffening as he fell under Steve's control. His pupils mirrored Steve's image—black tuxedo, dark red cloak, oily hair, dark green eyes, pale face.
Almost instantly, Klein was numb, thoughts fading. But he managed to throw the Golden Sunbird Brooch before losing control. The brooch flashed, golden flames flaring up, forming a sea of fire. Ghostly apparitions around Steve vanished, replaced by the scorching heat of the Sun Brooch.
"We have to leave before the official Beyonders arrive," Klein reminded Sharron and Maric, their battle concluded.
Klein holstered his revolver and stepped forward. Sharron appeared beside Tyre's corpse with uncanny speed, retrieving two characteristic items. She tossed one to Klein, who instinctively covered it with a piece of paper, avoiding direct contact.
"She's helping me with the spoils?" Klein was startled. Sharron's once-tidy dress fluttered in the wind, her light blonde hair sticking to her face, making her seem more human.
"This Beyonder characteristic could be made into a powerful artifact… I wonder what the side effects are," Klein mused, examining his spoils. He sealed the item in a metal box, using Holy Night Powder to block its influence. He watched Sharron's figure vanish, her black bonnet disappearing from sight.
Steve's remnants squirmed, producing a translucent point of light. Sharron reappeared before Klein.
"The Book of Secrets is in your room," Sharron said calmly.
No matter the outcome, if Klein made it back alive, he would receive a portion of the reward. He smiled and bowed. "Thank you for your generosity."
"The official Beyonders will arrive soon. We must leave," Sharron nodded.
"No need for help," Klein chuckled. "I still have fireworks to release."
He snapped his fingers, and explosions rocked the area. Flames soared into the sky, creating a beautiful, chaotic scene. As Sharron's gaze followed the fireworks, Klein vanished, leaving only a spark behind.
Taking a detour northwest, Klein avoided official Beyonders. Lighting matches along the way, he leaped through the flames, departing the West Balam dock. He used a special extract to wipe the paint from his face, burned the paper to ashes, and picked up his hidden cane. Straightening his clothes, he walked out into the street, blending into the night like an ordinary man.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone