Red gloves... red gloves?!
Rus Bathory realized it almost in an instant: he'd been surrounded by the elite Red Gloves of the Church of the Evernight Goddess!
These troublesome Beyonders blocked his escape from every direction, tracking his every move with grim expressions.
Outside the encirclement stood a handsome, cold-eyed man.
His attire was more casual: beneath his black formal wear he wore a blood-red shirt, no tie, the collar buttons left carelessly undone.
He was toying with an elegant, watch-shaped object, its "pocket watch" case white, as though carved from bone, and inside it, rather than the usual clock face, were seven numerals and a single hand, entirely unlike an ordinary timepiece.
Click, click...
The man in the red shirt kept turning the hand with his right hand, gloved in red, producing a crisp sound. He paid no attention to Roos whatsoever, his gaze instead sweeping over the Red Gloves one by one.
"We're a unit of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. You're suspected of involvement in an extraordinary case. Please come with us."
Just as Rus Bathory was surveying his surroundings, one of the "Red Gloves" stepped forward and addressed him with a stern expression.
Hearing this, Rus Bathory's face twisted, sharp fangs jutting out at the corners of his lips.
"Are you joking? I'm a Sanguine noble, how could I possibly have committed a crime?!"
Rus Bathory roared.
He understood everything now, that scene he'd witnessed a moment ago had been nothing but a dream conjured for him by these Red Gloves. He felt he'd been made a fool of, and fury spilled openly across his face.
This was precisely the critical moment of his hunt, and yet these "Red Gloves" wanted to haul him off, make him lose his prize!
"Whatever objections you have, you can raise them later. For now, come back with us."
Squad leader Soest paid no mind to the man's fury, speaking slowly instead. At the same time, he quietly touched the gap between his teeth, rousing the translucent spirit lodged within, preparing to subdue the man by force if need be.
The other Red Glove members slowly closed in, invisible ripples spreading from their bodies like rings on water, disturbing the air and faintly pressing against his spirituality.
They want to drag me into a dream again!
Rus Bathory thought furiously.
Thick black mist erupted around his body in an instant. As it obscured everyone's vision, it also solidified into shackles, condensing around wrists and ankles throughout the crowd.
"Open fire!"
Soest shouted.
Bang bang bang bang!
The volley of gunfire rang out, but the bullets only struck the ground, producing a loud clatter.
The vampire baron moved with the speed of a phantom, his strides swift as flight. In the span of a single instant, he had already broken free of the encirclement and was sprinting toward the distant street.
He's making a run for it!
Indeed, angry as he was, Rus Bathory understood well enough that fighting the official Nighthawks wasn't a wise choice.
All he wanted was to get away from the scene as quickly as possible and flee to the duke's estate. Under that lord's protection, even the Red Gloves would have to weigh the consequences and couldn't act against him so easily.
Whoosh!
Just then, a translucent spirit shot out from the gap in Soest's teeth in an instant. It caught up to Rus Bathory at astonishing speed and burrowed straight into his body.
"Ngh..."
The vampire let out a muffled groan mid-sprint, his speed dropping sharply, his movements turning unbearably stiff.
He looked as though he were freezing, arms wrapped around himself, trembling uncontrollably, unable to master his own body.
The squad members closed the distance quickly, brandishing handcuffs inscribed with spiritual seals, intending to fasten them around the vampire's wrists.
"Don't even dream of it!"
A vicious light flashed in Rus Bathory's blood-red eyes, his sharp teeth fully bared.
Just before the Red Gloves could restrain him, he reached into his coat and drew out a deep crimson talisman.
Carved into the metal talisman was a strange emblem: a full moon as its base, adorned with plant leaves and drops of blood. Taken as a whole, the talisman seemed rich with vitality and eerie splendor.
"Moon!"
Rus Bathory clutched the talisman and cried out in the Hermes script.
Bang!
The talisman exploded instantly.
In the next moment, Rus Bathory's body vanished. In the spot where he'd stood, a hazy patch of moonlight appeared.
The Red Gloves' shackles arrived a beat too late, striking the moonlight and shattering it completely into countless red scales.
Red light shone into everyone's eyes; they felt their own spirituality shudder without end, as though on the verge of bursting.
"Damn it!"
Soest's eyes narrowed, his mouth flying open at once. Two or three spirits shrieked out from the gap in his teeth. They circled the area, letting out piercing wails, trying to track down the vanished vampire.
But for all their effort, these spirits accomplished nothing beyond a sudden drop in the street's temperature, leaving the other squad members shivering.
Could it be that the vampire had truly slipped free of their encirclement?
A wave of frustration washed over everyone, so much so that they even forgot the cold gripping their bodies.
Click, click.
Just then, Leonard, standing at the perimeter, suddenly heard the crisp sound of metal clockwork.
There, the senior deacon Ahab Ishmael, who had been standing by watching the fight the whole while, finally made his move. Adjusting the hand of that "pocket watch" with his fingers, he set it to a fixed position. Then: whoosh!
Thick corruption and malice spread out from his body. Leonard felt, in that instant, as though the deacon had transformed into a monster in human shape, brimming with cruelty and cold detachment, his eyes burning bright like two lumps of glowing coal.
He fixed his gaze on some point in midair, slowly opened his mouth, and uttered a word steeped in profanity and curse: "Distort."
"Aaah!"
A shrill scream rang out from midair at once. Rus Bathory's figure emerged from invisibility, a pair of bat wings having sprouted from his back, yet he was falling to the ground, utterly unable to control himself.
Even once he'd hit the ground, he still clutched his own head tightly, as though that brief word had inflicted terrible damage upon his very spirit!
Just a single word, and it had brought down a vampire who'd activated a high-tier talisman...
Leonard's mouth fell open in shock.
It wasn't until the deacon called out to him that he snapped back to himself.
"Leonard, what are you waiting for?"
"Ah... yes sir!"
He shouted, running toward the vampire even as he spoke.
That sense of corruption, it couldn't possibly have come from the Goddess's power!
Could it be that bone-white pocket watch? With so many hands on it, could each hand represent a different ability...
Leonard speculated boldly.
"Assaulting a Nighthawk, that's an additional charge."
He heard the deacon say. "Bring him back to the church, give him a proper interrogation. And that box on the ground, it's useful evidence. I'll take it with me to study."
"Yes sir!"
The Red Gloves answered in unison.
Having power sure is nice.
Silas thought to himself, holding the box containing Rus Bathory's strange puppet.