The Slave Owner

Just one step too late, two sailors died gruesome deaths right before their eyes.

Their heads were blasted into a dozen flying fragments. Grayish-white brain matter mingled with bright red blood, splashing across the walls. Flecks of blood sprayed onto the faces and bodies of several nearby sailors, leaving them stunned before they dropped to the floor, vomiting violently.

Yet in the next moment, two bizarre tentacles suddenly shot out from the shattered skulls. Like sharp arrows, they bounced and ricocheted erratically inside the enclosed cabin, leaving deep gouges in the thick wooden bulkheads with every impact.

“Humph.”

Seeing the chaos erupting in the medical cabin, Knight Rick gave a cold snort and clenched his fist tightly.

Simultaneously, a mass of darkness condensed in the cabin, forming a giant palm. It closed in sync with his fist, perfectly catching both airborne tentacles in its grasp.

With a resounding boom, an explosive shockwave tore through the cabin, sending the sailors tumbling across the floor until they crashed into a heap in the corner.

“I know who did this.”

Knight Rick stared at the giant hand in the air, deep in thought for a few seconds. He turned to Lynch behind him. He didn't know why Lynch happened to be standing right behind him, but he decided it was best not to pry.

“What was that?” Lynch stepped forward solemnly, picked up his top hat, put it back on, and asked nonchalantly, “Something distinctive?”

“Yes. It's Walter Davis, a notorious water thief with a two-hundred-pound bounty on his head. He's been wanted for three years, though he usually operates on the open sea and rarely ventures into inland rivers.”

Hiss... Hearing that sum made Lynch's blood pulse, his hands itching with anticipation. But remembering the tentacles that had nearly burrowed into his own head just moments ago, he quickly regained his composure.

“He's a deranged cultist whose ability is controlling tentacles. He goes by the moniker 'the Slave Owner,' and he can reportedly command puppets to do his bidding. From the looks of it, he must have taken advantage of yesterday's chaos to send his tentacles aboard to burrow into their brains, turning them into moles to help the followers of the Ancient Flicker steal the holy memory. Fortunately, you noticed its presence in time. If it had found a chance to slip away, identifying him would have been nearly impossible.”

“That move you just did...” Lynch mimed clenching a fist. “Did it finish him off?”

“He's injured, but not severely,” Knight Rick sighed. “We must find his hiding place as soon as possible. The two factions might still be together.”

“Do you have any leads?”

Rick shook his head. “These people are well hidden and difficult to track down. All I can do is mobilize the church's intelligence network to gather information and hope for a quick response.”

Lynch nodded thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the room.

The room covered in blood and brains was an overwhelming sight, yet it made him realize a rather frightening fact.

He only found the metallic stench foul and slightly nauseating; he was no longer panicked by the sight of corpses.

It had only been seven days since he transmigrated. Habit truly was a terrifying thing.

Chuckling self-deprecatingly, Lynch carefully approached the corpses and poked them with his cane. Once he confirmed that both were thoroughly dead, he began to examine the bodies closely.

Seeing his actions, Knight Rick sensibly ordered the surrounding sailors, “All of you, out. Report the situation here to His Grace the Archbishop. His Grace will know how to handle it.”

“When something like this happens, how does the Church of the Black Night usually handle it?”

“Notify the Night Owls in Rhine City to deal with it. If they can't resolve it, a public bounty is issued for bounty hunters to handle.”

“Night Owls? Similar to the Watchers?”

“Yes, they belong to the church's special operations branch.”

As Lynch searched the corpses, he listened to Rick's explanation, finally understanding the basic structure of the Church of the Black Night—or rather, the structure of most churches.

The Church of the Black Night was divided into two branches. The priesthood comprised both ordinary people and Soul Severers; though some had combat capabilities, they mainly handled administrative duties. The dedicated combat forces, known in ancient times as the Order of the Black Night Knights, had been renamed the Night Owls with the changing times and were staffed entirely by Soul Severers.

However, due to conflicts between royal authority and theocratic power, the church deliberately minimized local knightly forces. Aside from the Norin headquarters, the Church of the Black Night only deployed three or four Night Owls to key cities as a deterrent.

The problem was that these people were just like the Watchers—they basically only knew how to fight. Sending them to risk their lives against cultists was fine, but having them investigate a case would yield worse results than asking the blue uniforms of the Hall of Order.

That was why Archbishop Trinlais had never placed any hope in them from the beginning, turning directly to Lynch, whom he trusted most.

“Still, our intelligence channels are sound. We might be able to pick up Davis's trail.”

“And what if we can't find him?” Lynch began searching the two corpses' clothes a second time, along with their bunks.

“Regardless of whether we recover the shipment, we won't conceal this incident from the church. But if we can retrieve the lost item, we can restore our lost honor, and the church's punishment will be lessened accordingly. As a knight, losing the cargo was indeed my dereliction of duty, and I will accept whatever punishment is due.”

“Then let's cooperate. I'll do my best to help you find the target. Helping you is helping myself. Oh, found it.”

“What are you looking for?” Knight Rick had wanted to ask for a while, seeing Lynch rummaging around non-stop.

“There's an inexplicable flaw in our reasoning. If our deduction is to hold, we need a plausible explanation,” Lynch said, ripping at the corpse's clothing. “Both of them were ordinary people with no special abilities. Being controlled wouldn't suddenly turn them into Soul Severers.”

“Mm.”

“So even if they were on board, how could they activate an ability on behalf of the Flicker's cultists to steal the item? That means besides being controlled, there had to be another method involved. I'm looking for proof of that.”

As he spoke, Lynch pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from the inner lining of one man's trousers.

With a faint sneer, Lynch quickly unfolded the paper. Sure enough, the image of the Ancient Flicker appeared upon it once more.

“This proves that the card in the crate wasn't simply a declaration or mockery. It appeared in the crate because it had to be there, and the same goes for this one here.”

“There really is one...” Rick asked, filled with admiration. “What effect does this thing actually have?”

“It's hard to say for certain. We need more information, otherwise it's just wild guessing. However, this thing itself carries some clues that could—hm?”

Footsteps sounded outside. Turning around, Lynch saw Archbishop Trinlais arriving with a priest. Seeing an ordinary person come to such a place, the surrounding sailors nervously formed a protective circle around him.

“What brings you here? Aren't you worried the rest of the supplies might be stolen too?”

“Did both victims die within the last ten minutes?” Trinlais asked in return.

“Yes.”

“Then it's up to you,” Trinlais said, patting the priest beside him on the shoulder. “The Goddess commands a portion of the authority of death, and he is a knight versed in that death authority. One of his abilities allows him to sense the killer's location at the moment of death, provided the corpse died within ten minutes.”