In the world of the supernatural, authorities have fixed categories, but abilities vary wildly based on one's understanding of those authorities. Since almost everyone's abilities are unique, it is difficult to measure them by strength; one can only categorize them as useful or useless.
This priest's ability, for instance, is truly... quite useless.
First, it only works on homicide cases. Second, the time of death cannot exceed ten minutes. Most importantly, it can only sense the killer's location at the exact moment of the crime.
In the vast majority of cases, the killer is still at the crime scene, making the ability's scope of application extremely limited. However, one must admit that it is quite useful in certain specific situations.
Like right now.
Thanks to Lynch's deductive pressure, the enemy was forced to act prematurely and kill the puppets on the spot, which perfectly met the time requirements of the ability.
In such a short time, with the wharf under lockdown, it is very difficult for them to escape.
Knight Rick immediately commanded the sailors to assemble in preparation for an assault on the target, while Lynch and Trinlais remained in the infirmary, watching the priest's actions with nervous anticipation.
【Authority, Death, Ability, Vengeance of the Departed】
The moment the ability took effect, a breeze swept across their faces.
The air grew cold, oppressive, terrifying, and desolate. Despairing groans and wails echoed softly in the breeze, chilling one to the bone.
It did not belong to the world of light; it represented only death and finality. It was as if, at this moment, the worlds of the living and the dead had intersected, and the living had glimpsed the secrets of the netherworld. For a moment, Lynch felt as if he saw a surging river before his eyes, within which countless green flames flickered, rising and falling.
Though the sight should have been terrifying, Lynch felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity and peace, as if he had met an old friend.
‘Is death also your authority?’
【Yes.】
“I see it, right on the wharf.” Just as Lynch was pestering his own deity, the priest, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, suddenly shouted in surprise. He took the wharf map handed to him by a soldier and marked the exact location.
It was indeed on the wharf, not even fifty meters from the long pier where the large ship was docked.
There were several rows of small warehouses at the edge of the square, rented out to passing cargo ships for temporary storage. When the wharf was locked down earlier, they had only screened the surrounding workers and travelers; no one had paid attention to those locked warehouses.
It was right here. I never expected them to be hiding within fifty meters. But that is fine; the area has been under surveillance from the start, and it is impossible for anyone to have entered or left. With the enemies trapped inside, they have absolutely nowhere to run.
In the blink of an eye, a large group of men had closed in.
It was nothing like the scenes in the police films of his past life, which Lynch found incredibly disappointing.
There were no police cars or sirens filling the streets, nor was anyone holding a megaphone shouting for them to drop their weapons and surrender. Everyone moved light on their feet, circling the warehouse from both sides, with at least forty rifles aimed at the building from every angle.
The door was locked from the outside, and everything appeared normal. But four priest-knights, led by Rick, were already standing by. They hid behind a pile of cargo not far from the warehouse door. Once the sailors had completed the encirclement, Knight Rick clenched his fist again and threw a punch into the air.
At the same time, the shadows around the warehouse rippled, condensing into a fist made of darkness at the entrance, which then smashed heavily against the door. The thick, solid wooden door was shattered into pieces, flying inward like cannonballs.
The next moment, gunfire erupted.
It was a volley from the soldiers guarding the front, fired the moment the door was smashed open. The roar of the gunfire was deafening.
Smoke filled the air, bullets flew, and sparks showered the area around the warehouse entrance.
As the volley ended, Rick drew his sword and charged out, followed by four black-robed knights, each wielding a sword in one hand and a revolver in the other. Though there were only five of them, they moved with the momentum of a thousand troops, forcibly breaching the pitch-black entrance of the warehouse.
“Move.”
Following the officer's order, a dozen sailors armed with rifles rushed in after them, fearless of death. Inside the darkness, sharp shouts and reprimands rang out.
The entire process was incredibly fast. Lynch hadn't even reacted when it started, and of course, he didn't when it ended.
Are you all police from country X? Why do you empty your magazines the moment you start?
He now missed Officer Natalie and her gentle methods; being pinned to the ground was far more gentle than being greeted by bullets.
But did they actually catch the enemy?
Hearing the commotion inside begin to subside, Lynch could not suppress his curiosity and slipped into the warehouse.
Before his eyes could adjust to the change in light, Lynch realized the scent of blood was thick. It seemed there were indeed people hiding in the warehouse.
Soon, his eyes adjusted to the dim gaslight, and Lynch finally saw the scene inside.
The warehouse was small and empty of cargo. Three people were huddled near the edge; one had already been turned into a sieve, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, motionless.
Another held two revolvers, but his head had been completely severed, clearly the work of a blade. Knight Rick's sword was dripping with blood, making it easy to guess what had happened.
The third man had been hit by two shots but was not mortally wounded. He lay on the ground wailing as two soldiers pressed him down and tied him up with quite violent movements.
Looking closely, the two dead men were sturdy and fierce-looking, wearing ragged, coarse cloth. Their skin was tanned black and covered in scars, with bits of white salt crystals in their hair—they were clearly sailors who had lived on the sea for years.
The wounded man, though not wearing formal attire, was neatly dressed. He sported a thin, wily mustache and, even now, his eyes were darting around nervously.
“Two pirates and one smuggler.” Rick said with a grim face, full of resentment. “They are all ordinary people. No Davis, and no cultists of the Flicker.”
“Did we find the wrong target?” Lynch's expression was conflicted. “We didn't accidentally hurt innocent people, did we?”
“People who lock their doors and hide in the shadows in a place like this cannot be considered innocent. Even if we did... may the Lord bless them. Amen.” Knight Rick made a cross over his chest. “Actually, this combination is common. Smugglers familiar with the terrain help find safe houses, and they hide wanted criminals while preparing for an operation. It is highly likely that the two Soul Severers escaped in time, leaving only three ordinary people who couldn't get away. But that does not matter; we still have one living witness. The water thieves are of little use—it is hard to make them talk—but the smuggler is different. They want to live; otherwise, he wouldn't be wailing so loudly.”
As he spoke, he signaled the officer with his eyes. The officer immediately stepped forward and kicked the smuggler in his wound.
“Shut up now. If you scream one more time, I will open another hole for you.”
The screaming stopped instantly, and the smuggler was hauled up by the sailors.
“Spare me, I didn't know they would do something like this!” the smuggler cried with a miserable face. “I just wanted to earn some pocket money. Who knew they...”
“You know the rules of the military. Don't waste my time. Answer honestly and you will live, and you can even get a one-pound reward. Don't tell the truth, and you die. It is that simple.”
The officer held a one-pound note in one hand and drew his sword with the other:
“Tell me, where are the others.”
The smuggler immediately reached for the note: “They escaped.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“When?”
“Two minutes ago.”
“Bullshit. Two minutes ago the wharf was full of soldiers. How could they escape?”
“It's true, Captain! They just went 'whoosh' and disappeared.” The smuggler pointed at the corner of the wall. “Right there. They seemed to drop something, too. We hadn't even had a chance to check it before you guys rushed in.”
Hmm?
Lynch signaled for the soldiers not to approach, to avoid any supernatural influence, and walked over himself.
On the ground lay another piece of paper. He flipped it over, and once again, it was the portrait of the Ancient Flicker.
“I don't know how they escaped either, but they had a speedboat hidden nearby. They must have fled there. But I have no idea where they were hiding it.”
“That is no longer important.”
Knight Rick sighed. He and Lynch looked out toward the water, where boats were coming and going, mostly small skiffs.
Just one step too slow. They had managed to escape after all, and now they would be very difficult to find.
Rate on N.U.
