Galad stomped down on Haynes, striking him again and again with ruthless force, but his mind was already racing for a solution.
Simply destroying Haynes' physical body was useless he kept reviving. The answer had to be mystical. Yet the so-called demon-hunting bullets from earlier had proven insufficient. A stronger, deeper method was required.
Haynes' monstrous transformation had clearly come from the True Creator's power. As a Secrets Supplicant, perhaps his potion had left behind the knowledge he needed…
Flipping through the fragments of occult memory he had absorbed back in the carriage, Galad's eyes lit up. He had found something , a ritual perfectly matching Haynes' current state.
"Sanctuary's Descent."
A vile, forbidden ritual meant to grant strength. The caster had to sacrifice their two closest blood relatives, exchanging them for the True Creator's blessing. If successful, a wisp of corrupted divinity would be lodged within their body, fusing the sacrificed heads to their flesh. These heads became conduits for powers such as Defiled Speech, Amplified Chanting, and Physical Enhancement, twisting the caster into a complete monster.
Galad's face darkened. To sacrifice your own family for power… even among the darkest Secrets Supplicant rites, this was insanity.
But the ritual had already succeeded. The question was how to break it?
His thoughts raced, and then, suddenly, an audacious idea struck him.
The fused heads existed only because of the True Creator's lingering aura. Remove that aura, and Haynes would collapse on his own.
Resolute, Galad stopped his assault. He dipped two fingers into the blood still seeping from his ear and traced a sigil into his palm.
A grotesque emblem took form a blood-rose in full bloom, and at its heart, an inverted cross. Corruption and prosperity intertwined in the design, radiating dread. It was none other than the holy symbol of the True Creator.
Galad finished the mark with visible disgust. Then he raised his palm toward Haynes. If the aura desired a vessel, let it come to him. He had something that Haynes lacked the protection of that strange, illusory tide.
"You blasphemer!" Haynes spat, his voice trembling with both fear and rage.
Galad ignored him. His lips moved, and words slipped out in a tongue he himself had never learned:
"Praise the Lord's rebirth, for corruption is salvation."
With a decisive motion, he pressed his blood-stained palm onto Haynes' forehead.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!"
Haynes shrieked. His body flushed crimson, arching like a boiled shrimp as he convulsed violently. The faces fused to his body wailed in unison, their cries overlapping in an agony that scraped against the ears. His form writhed, then began to sag melting like wax near flame.
But Galad did not escape unscathed. A torrent of foul, corrosive power surged through his palm into his body, burning a path straight toward his head. It was like being eaten alive from the inside; his skin split open with a sickening pop, revealing muscle and fat, while the flesh itself began to crawl and twist as though it had a will of its own.
Then the impact.
The corrupted aura clashed with the mysterious tide inside his mind. The illusory waves surged up, wrapping the corruption, and in moments both forces dissolved into nothingness.
The cracks on Galad's arm stopped spreading. His flesh, though marred and torn, slowly knit back together.
Just as I thought.
Galad sank to the ground, exhausted. The tide within his consciousness had once again shielded him, just as it had when he drank the potion and nearly went mad.
He didn't know what it was, only that it felt utterly vital.
A transmigrator's blessing… , he mocked himself silently.
The hall lay in ruins. Broken porcelain, scorched partitions, scattered blood. Klein, still badly injured, stared at him from the floor with disbelief. Their eyes met awkward, uncertain.
Before either could speak, hurried hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels broke the silence. A carriage screeched to a halt, and heavy boots clattered against the steps outside.
The door burst open. Dunn Smith entered with his team.
"This… what in the world…"
Leonard froze, his gaze sweeping over the collapsed room, the corpse that was more liquid than flesh, and the bloodied figures left inside.
Galad exhaled weakly, forcing a bitter smile. Meeting Dunn's deep, steady gaze, he could not resist muttering with weary complaint:
"Mr. Dunn… why are you only arriving now?"
"So, you used the knowledge of a Secrets Supplicant to deal with Haynes' transformation?"
Dunn's voice was calm, but heavy, as he walked slowly across the corroded floor. The hall looked as though looters had stormed through tables splintered, porcelain shattered, chairs overturned.
Klein and Seeka had already been sent to the back for treatment. Only the collapsed remains of Haynes, his black robe soaked into a melted mass of flesh, remained on the ground.
"Ah, well, it was mainly thanks to the Nighthawks," Galad said with a thin smile. For some reason, Dunn's steady gaze made him deeply uncomfortable. "I just… found an opportunity. And happened to know the ritual's weakness."
He gave a full account of what had happened. Dunn listened, quiet, only asking occasional sharp questions. When Galad finished, Dunn picked up the blood-stained cane from the floor and approached Haynes' remains.
The body had collapsed entirely, melted into a grotesque puddle of flesh. Only the corroded black robe covered it. Beneath the robe, two unnatural bulges jutted upward, disturbingly out of place.
Dunn prodded the flesh with the cane, lifted the corner of the robe, and looked.
His eyes flickered. A faint, almost inaudible sigh escaped him.
"Leonard."
"Yes, Captain?"
Leonard had been sweeping porcelain with a broom. He looked up.
"Go to the police station. Find Inspector Toler. Tell him we've discovered a third crime scene."
Leonard smirked. "Heh, three in one night? Toler's going to lose his mind."
Galad blinked. "Three… crime scenes? Mr. Dunn, you mean you went to Haynes' home and didn't find him, only the site of a blood sacrifice?"
Dunn's gaze lingered on the melted flesh. "That's right. It's… strange. Why would Haynes awaken in the dead of night, sacrifice his family, and then head straight for Blackthorn Security Company? I don't understand it at all."
His calm tone couldn't conceal the unease beneath.
A simple arrest had almost ended in disaster. The target had vanished from one location only to strike here, as though guided by some hidden malice. If not for Galad's intervention, the result could have been catastrophic.
A coincidence too sharp, too precise or a coincidence steeped in ill will.