"Damn it!"
Anderson struggled, pinned firmly by a group of ordinary people.
He wanted to unleash flames, but deep down he knew he didn't have the strength to fight back. All he could do was let them hold him.
"I have to learn from this," the man dressed like a Loen gentleman murmured. "Hunters are all stubborn, unruly. You can't expect them to understand simple words."
He sighed, and fine dragon scales began to appear across his face as he stepped closer to Anderson.
"I'd advise you to run while you still can."
Anderson said provocatively, "[Blood Reverend] isn't someone an ordinary demigod can handle."
He'd done everything he could. Whether he survived now depended purely on fate.
With nothing left to lose, he even started joking with his opponent.
"No rush. Let me deal with you first."
The man extended a ring-adorned finger and waved it before Anderson's face.
"Look at it!"
Anderson's body instantly froze. He could only stare wide-eyed, all his focus converging on that finger, unable to move an inch.
"This finger represents your spirit.
As I slowly curl it into my palm, your spirit will be destroyed along with it, until you go completely mad, until you lose complete control..."
The other's voice echoed deep in his mind, constantly suggesting.
As a demigod of the Spectator pathway, he naturally had ways to completely control Anderson.
The reason he hadn't done so before wasn't inability, but concern that controlling him too deeply would leave flaws that the [Blood Reverend] might discover.
He'd originally only planned to plant a small seed in Anderson's mind, enough to fulfill his promise, to have the [Blood Reverend] count the money and receive psychological suggestion.
But he never expected that what should have been an easy situation to manipulate would be ruined by the other's rebelliousness!
"Don't listen to him! He's lying!"
Anderson shouted to himself, struggling desperately against the psychological suggestion.
But how could demigod-level abilities be resisted by just shouting a few words? His eyes remained fixed on that slender finger.
As it bent bit by bit into the palm, his mental world began to boil with chaos, madness and distortion gradually replacing reason.
His vision kept darkening. He was about to completely lose control, until...
"Whoosh!"
Shadows black as ink suddenly surged up, wrapping around the man's finger.
"Calm down. That's not your spirit, it's just a finger."
Silas's calm voice sounded from behind. Invisible soothing power immediately spread outward.
The words that were useless coming from Anderson's own mouth became healing medicine from Silas's.
As those words rang out, Anderson's mental state instantly improved. He no longer tended toward madness, but calmed down instead.
Not only that, all the suggestions previously imposed on him dissipated. He immediately broke free from control and leaped up.
"This guy's a Spectator pathway demigod!"
Anderson shouted. "And don't touch that case of money!"
"I know."
Silas glanced at him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
He hadn't expected that despite this guy's carefree appearance and love of jokes, at a critical moment like this, he wouldn't betray him.
"Swish!"
With a slight wave of his hand, golden light flashed in Silas's eyes, and the crowd immediately dispersed.
This time, they completely regained their clarity and fled quickly, leaving the street rapidly empty, with only the Loen gentleman across from them remaining.
"A pleasure to meet you, Blood Reverend."
The other smiled, placing his hand on his chest in greeting.
All ten of his fingers bore rings, looking rather ostentatious.
"And who are you?"
Silas asked coldly.
"Psychology Alchemists, Member of the Council of Elders. You may call me [Gluttony]."
The other continued smiling, looking confident.
A phantom mask faintly appeared on his face, mouth wide open, eyes hungry, as if craving to devour everything before him.
"I see."
Silas said. "Then go die."
As he spoke those last few words, his tone turned ice-cold. Profane sounds vibrated his vocal cords, resounding in the other's mind!
"Pop!"
And so the man who called himself [Gluttony] burst like a bubble, vanishing into the air.
Where did he go?
Anderson wondered in confusion, looking around but finding no trace of him.
"Leave here immediately."
Silas said softly, his eyes fixed intently on the street ahead.
The demigod calling himself [Gluttony] hadn't disappeared, of course.
He'd used a Spectator pathway ability to hide his body in a psychological sense.
Silas's eyes could see very clearly that not only had the other not left, he'd directly removed his restrictions, letting his body transform into a roaring mental dragon!
"Roar!"
This dragon bore two grayish membranous wings on its back, with thick limbs.
Gray-white scales on its surface were inscribed with one complex, three-dimensional mystical symbol after another.
These symbols not only appeared on the scales but extended into the dragon's flesh and blood, spreading into the surrounding air, creating a strange blur between the boundaries of illusion and reality.
Just looking at the space around those symbols seemed to greatly affect people's spirits, causing mental disorder and twisted thoughts!
The Spectator pathway's incomplete mythical creature form!
If it were a demigod of another pathway, although they could also enter a similar state, the price they'd have to pay would be extremely heavy.
Unless they had unwavering will, they simply couldn't control their consciousness and would rapidly slide toward the edge of losing control and going mad.
Only the Spectator pathway, because of its unique abilities that specifically targeted the mind, could instead utilize the mythical form to maximize their strength.
Of course, even for them, lasting too long would lead to madness and loss of control.
"Wooo..."
The dragon's body was terrifying, its face still wearing a twisted mask, looking incredibly eerie.
Fierce storms boiled and churned around it, seeming to come from reality yet also resonating with illusion.
They carried a certain will, blowing in all directions.
Any creature swept into the storm inevitably fell into an abnormal state, either stopping to convulse, or falling unconscious, frenzied, fleeing...
Dragon's Might!
No, it was Dragon's Might's superior replacement: Mental Deprivation!
Good thing Anderson ran fast, or he would have been affected too. Silas looked calmly at that terrifying dragon.
Phantom ocean tides echoed in his mind; he was completely unaffected by the other.
"Hmm?"
The dragon spoke in human words, seemingly confused by his composed appearance.
Immediately, its surroundings began to blur, with phantom versions of itself appearing one after another, their expressions sinister, staring coldly at Silas.
But Silas just kept walking forward, step by step.
The shadow at his feet was thick and heavy, slowly rising, swallowing his body.
It twisted into pitch-black, corrupted armor, lifting him to over two meters in height.
"Clang!"
A massive black sword appeared in his hand as if summoned from the darkness itself.
The Black Knight was ready to slay the dragon.