Seeing Javon successfully suppressed, the Black Umbral Beast twisted its face into a savage grin. It sprang upward, talons wreathed in flame, ready to end Javon’s life in a single strike.

  In that moment, by praising The Fallen Corona, it had received a distant blessing. It could draw upon the power of the Fallen City, Diat—amplifying itself while weakening its enemy.

  A flawless reversal from the brink.

  As the beast dove, Javon—apparently bound by countless dark tendrils, unable to move—slipped the killing blow with effortless grace. In the same motion he drove The Weeping Blade into the Black Umbral Beast’s abdomen and raked it open.

  The beast landed on all fours and froze.

  A massive gash yawned across its belly. Its innards spilled out.

  Black fire surged over its body again, as though it meant to throw itself forward one last time—yet its frame swayed involuntarily.

  “Purify.”

  Using the Forgebearer’s art, Javon let holy radiance descend upon the beast. With Forged Light’s natural dominance over Umbral, he pinned down its final struggle.

  Bang, bang!

  He kept firing into its head.

  White-hot flame consumed everything, crushing the darkness to nothing.

  At last, the fire on the Black Umbral Beast sputtered out… leaving only a single black eye steeped in malice. Within that eye, a tiny black flame continued to burn.

  Umbral’s Fourth Sephiroth spiritual remnant—secured.

  Javon picked up the eye and put it away with care. Then he looked at his companions.

  “This spoil is mine. Any objections?”

  “No!” Langley and the others shook their heads at once, making it clear they had no intention of touching it.

  “Cough… cough…”

  At that moment, the Professor finally regained consciousness—though one of his eyes had turned pitch-black.

  “Elvander… you truly surprised me. You’re the mysterious Forgebearer, aren’t you? Poor Master Gantiss…”

  “That’s one of my small secrets.”

  Javon held Roberts’s Arcane Insect Box in his hand, letting demon-insects spread through the vicinity as he asked, “Professor… do you still intend to continue exploring? I suspect Diat holds more than one Black Umbral Beast. Unless we all open the Fourth Sephiroth, pushing deeper will put our lives at risk.”

  “Of course not. We leave at once.”

  The Professor swept his gaze around, reluctance written plainly on his face—but there was no choice.

  One Black Umbral Beast had nearly wiped them out. If they met several more, the outcome…

  And beyond that, he himself had suffered severe contamination. He was only suppressing the injury by Tower techniques for the moment. He had no fighting strength left. Once they returned, he would need a long recovery.

  “You go first. I’ll cover the rear.”

  Javon nodded. He guided the demon-insects into a layered screen around them, shielding the group as they ran back the way they had come.

  Tap. Tap.

  By the time they reached the region where they had first entered, the darkness had thickened into something almost tangible.

  From the roiling black fog came the shrieks of beasts.

  “Black Umbral Beasts—several of them. My insects are holding them back. Move!”

  Javon’s expression shifted. He withdrew beyond Diat’s boundary.

  The moment he crossed that edge, he tore open the gate between the Ethereal Realm and the waking world, and vanished at speed.

  “Go!”

  The Professor’s voice warped with fear as he saw Black Umbral Beasts tear through the insect swarm.

  “Next time, I’d rather die than come back!”

  Roselyn’s voice trembled as she watched more and more Black Umbral Beasts emerge. Her spirit-body rapidly dissolved into nothing.

  “Don’t forget the payment you promised!”

  Xander the gorilla roared—and disappeared as well.

  The Professor looked at Langley with a bitter smile, then left decisively.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Phoenix Street, No. 27.

  Javon rolled out of bed, sat up, and drew the curtains.

  “Another beautiful day.”

  He sighed, staring at the black eye lying quietly in his hand.

  “Third material. Now I only lack the Fourth Sephiroth remnants of Sanguis, Tower, Chrysalis, and Veil… After waiting this long, the Lotus-Eaters should have received the news and shifted their attention to Wynchester. Unfortunately, most of their Beyond Mortality-grade beings are dual-path—Sanguis and Umbral. Useless to me.”

  “Dreamwalking really does yield more.”

  Javon guessed that once the Professor returned, he wouldn’t show his face again for a long time.

  “So next time, I’ll have to go alone. The chance to travel with a team is gone…”

  Night.

  Hunter’s Bar.

  “Ah!”

  Isabet, in her maid-style server uniform, was weaving through a pack of drunks when a hand suddenly hooked around her and yanked her into a chest.

  A drunk with a revolver at his waist held her tight. He reached toward her cleavage and laughed.

  “I haven’t been here in ages. Didn’t think the bar would have such a pretty new girl. What’s your overnight fee?”

  “P-please… don’t.” Isabet struggled to push his hand away. The patrons hooted, eager for a spectacle.

  “Let her go.”

  At the critical moment, William finally couldn’t take it. He stepped in, dragged Isabet free, and shoved the drunk back.

  The next instant, a cold muzzle pressed to his forehead.

  “You dare shove me?” the man snarled. “Have I, Harris ‘Silver Spear,’ killed too few people?”

  “Harris—the fugitive?” one of the bounty hunters muttered.

  Criminals who worked as bounty hunters tended to be more savage than ordinary hunters, their bloodlust thicker, their hands quicker.

  A bead of sweat rolled down William’s brow. For the first time he felt death breathing against his skin.

  “What’s this? Trying to stain the boss’s bar?”

  Behind the counter, Balkin set down his glass and rag, yanked a double-barreled shotgun from under the bar, and leveled it at Harris.

  “I don’t give a damn if you’re Silver Spear or Iron Spear. Don’t get in the way of my business!”

  “You’re lucky, kid,” Harris said with a wicked grin, showing yellow-black teeth. His right hand moved like a magician’s trick, holstering the revolver. “But you won’t stay lucky forever.”

  He drained his drink in one swallow, tossed a few pennies on the counter, and walked out.

  “Are you all right?” Isabet rushed to William, checking his face.

  “I’m fine…” William wiped his cheek with his sleeve. His eyes tracked Harris’s departing back, growing deep. “Harris ‘Silver Spear’…”

  A few days later.

  Javon made a brief round to Hunter’s Bar and took the earnings from the past days. From Balkin, he heard news that surprised him slightly.

  “You mean… our server picked a fight with a bounty hunter infamous for brutality? And he threatened to deal with the boy first, then Isabet?”

  It was afternoon; the bar hadn’t opened yet.

  Javon sat calmly. Nothing showed on his face.

  “Yes, boss. Should we find someone to warn Harris?” Balkin asked. “Or just deal with him outright. He’s a criminal anyway—there’s no bounty on him, so other hunters can’t be bothered. I still have connections in The Blackwater. Only up to inspector level, but cleaning him up won’t be hard.”

  In Balkin’s eyes, Harris’s greatest mistake wasn’t lust or cruelty.

  It was doing it inside Hunter’s Bar.

  A provocation.

  Clink.

  A gold pound flipped across Javon’s fingers, flashing like a streak of light.

  He flicked it up again—caught it.

  After one glance, Javon smiled.

  “Leave him alone. I think this may develop into something quite interesting.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Balkin was puzzled, but he obeyed.

  Time crawled into night.

  Before the bar opened, both William and Isabet arrived.

  “Boss… I’m sorry about last time. If I caused trouble for the bar, I’m willing to resign.”

  Isabet bit her lip as she spoke.

  She clearly didn’t want to lose the job, yet her resolve held.

  “This was my fault,” William couldn’t help himself. He stepped forward. “If you’re firing anyone, fire me.”

  “What a fine friendship,” Javon applauded. “I’m almost moved.”

  Then his tone hardened.

  “But am I the boss, or are you? Get to work.”

  “O-of course, boss.”

  Isabet and William retreated quickly. Isabet even looked secretly pleased as she whispered to William, “Elvander’s really responsible. He’s going to shoulder this for us. We found a good boss.”

  “Yeah…” William answered absently, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, mocking curve.

  Night fully settled.

  Streetlamps kindled one by one.

  Customers streamed into the bar, including bounty hunters who were always first to hear news.

  “Did you hear?” a hunter in a wool coat said, ordering a huge mug of rye beer. He laughed heartily. “Harris ‘Silver Spear’ is dead! That scum deserved it. Ha—today is a good day.”

  “Harris is dead? How?” Balkin smiled as he served the beer. “This one’s on me.”

  “Harris died with no honor, no bravery, not even a satisfying evil. It was ridiculous.” The hunter laughed harder. “He drowned in the gutter outside. That ditch is only two feet deep—kids don’t drown in it. But Harris went face-down and drowned himself. Probably drank too much.”

  He raised his mug high.

  “To the mighty Holy Spirit—may It cast Harris’s soul into hell!”

  “Did you hear?” Isabet hurried over to William, who was moving barrels. “That bastard is dead. Thank goodness!”

  “Yeah.” William replied, distracted. His eyes flicked toward Javon, unease tugging at him.

  But when he saw Elvander paying him no particular attention, he let out a quiet breath.

  As the bar grew more crowded, a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped haircut entered—and the room’s noise dropped at once.

  Karl the Mad.

  He sat at the counter, tapped the wood.

  “One Tessago Firewater.”

  Balkin poured it quickly and struck a match, lighting the surface.

  Karl lifted the glass and swallowed the flame and liquor together. His cheeks reddened slightly.

  “Now that’s got a bite. Another.”

  At that moment, Javon stepped behind the counter, motioned Balkin aside, and smiled at Karl.

  “Karl. Interested in taking a job from me?”

  Karl’s crazed eyes slid over him. “No killing.”

  “Mm. No killing. Just tailing.”

  Javon nodded.

  “Why me?” Karl downed another firewater like it was water.

  “Plenty of bounty hunters have guts,” Javon said. “They’re also the ones whose corpses show up fastest. You’re still alive. That isn’t only madness—it’s caution.”

  He glanced toward Isabet and William working at a distance.

  “I need you to follow that server—William. Watch him for a while. And dig up his family background, school background, everything. The more detailed, the better.”

  Karl drank one after another, not like a man enjoying liquor, but like a man forcing down medicine.

  “Too much hassle. Under fifty pounds, I don’t take it.”

  “Agreed. Total forty pounds—after the one-fifth fee. This is the deposit.”

  Javon slid several banknotes across. William didn’t warrant Javon’s personal involvement. A small sum to a bounty hunter would do.

  “Why forty?” Karl growled.

  “One-fifth fee.” Javon lifted a brow, smiling. “Business is business. Bring me the report quickly.”

  “I hate merchants,” Karl muttered.

  But he didn’t argue. The rule was the rule.

  After commissioning the job, Javon went to the bar’s washroom.

  To be honest, he disliked this entrance. He kept thinking that one day he’d renovate it.

  But the entrance had been set by Havier. Without Havier’s approval, any tampering would only make it fail.

  Putting the entrance here… Havier really does have a vicious sense of humor.