From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

Chapter 112 The End of Nathaniel

Nathaniel, standing outside the courtyard wall, also witnessed that moment of imbalance.

He brought the Soul-Seeking Conch to his lips, his chest suddenly bulging, as he tried to repeat the command in the loudest voice.

"Ka-i-So-s, in the name of the Black Tide, anew."

A dark shadow swept down above the window frame. Moro folded its wings and swooped down, skimming close to the outer wall.

Its beak precisely pecked off a syllable from Nathaniel's drawn-out name, the most crucial syllable being accurately plucked away.

Moro visibly dipped downwards in mid-air, and only managed to rise again after a vigorous flapping of its wings.

More black liquid gushed from its beak and dripped down its neck feathers.

The black water beneath Cassos's feet then noticeably stopped flowing. A ring of stone slabs briefly appeared around the monster's left foot, and the black water flowing towards its body also stopped at its waist and abdomen.

The Red-Bearded King had already grabbed its unbalanced left limb and pulled it sharply backward with both arms.

The thick tentacle was pulled away from the wall, and the teeth on the edge of the suction cup scraped a row of deep marks on the brickwork.

Cisalus's upper body was forced to lean forward, and the gill slits on both sides of his collarbone opened at the same time, from which the black water that had not yet been drained gushed out.

The Red-Bearded King stepped forward, swinging his meteor hammer across the water's surface from his right side.

The hammer chain suddenly taut, and the shattered door star slammed into the octopus's head from below.

The golden impact pierced through the soft flesh and cartilage, sending the head, several breathing tubes, and the gill slits between the collarbones flying into the air.

Cisalus's torso remained in place, with only a few tufts of elongated black fascia remaining around his neck.

The Red-Bearded King spun around, the hammer head passing over his shoulder, drawing a short arc in mid-air, before the second reverse pendulum fell from above.

A dull thud drowned out all the sounds of water on the street. The head, which had lost its support, shattered completely in the golden light, and the cartilage of the wrists and feet and the black water were smashed into a filthy mess that spread out in all directions.

Cisalus' headless body lasted only a moment before the entire form lost its tension.

Those hideous tentacles fell off one after another, and the huge body collapsed inward from the center of its chest and abdomen, turning into piles of black sludge and cartilage fragments.

The black water on the street lost its upward momentum, and the water level continued to drop, receding rapidly along the drainage ditches and open wellheads.

The two mutated Tide Transformers also collapsed in the receding water, leaving only two clumps of black mud mixed with clothing.

Nathaniel turned to leave, but the Red-Bearded King had already crossed the courtyard wall.

The end of the meteor hammer's handle struck his left knee, followed by the sound of bones breaking; a second sweep struck his right knee, knocking him down onto the stone pavement where the water had just receded.

The deacon of the Tide-Drinking Ceremony let out a short, miserable scream, and the Soul-Seeking Conch rolled out of his hand.

The Red-Bearded King glanced down at him, and a metallic echoing sound came from behind his crimson-gold mask.

"Those who are alive will be handed over to the king's justice."

As soon as he finished speaking, the cracks covering the ancestral spirit's entire body lit up simultaneously, and his equipment turned into tiny golden fragments and disappeared.

The old relief center fell silent again, with only the gurgling sound of the drain rapidly swallowing sewage remaining.

Edmund gripped the stair railing as he descended to the first floor, his boundless energy masking the pain and preventing his steps from faltering.

Lumbar contusion, shoulder and back bruises, at least one rib fracture on the right side, respiratory muscle spasm... spiritual energy depletion is also nearing its limit.

He stepped over the threshold, his shoes sinking into a thin layer of mud, and glanced back at the old relief center.

Damn cultists have made a mess of this place, and we have to start construction again. Hopefully, the workers won't make wild guesses about what happened here.

That said, this should be something that local official supernatural organizations are worried about... It seems that moral alliances are managed by each country on its own.

Edmund shook off these thoughts and continued on his way.

Nathaniel lay outside the courtyard wall, his legs bent at an unnatural angle.

Edmund sauntered over and squatted down beside him, pulling back the mud-covered hood to reveal a face ravaged by bullets and black water.

He now has a missing piece on his right cheek, his nose is crooked to one side, and black liquid is gushing out of his seven orifices.

Lockman had a brief encounter with this deacon when he checked the ceremonial supplies for the religious order.

Nathaniel stood by the altar, showing no interest in the accounts or the people in charge of them.

"Butler Lockwood," Edmund looked down at him, "you cult-brained madman."

Nathaniel opened one of his eyes, which could still move, and made muffled gurgling sounds in his throat.

After taking a moment to resist the urge to stomp on him, Edmund spat and continued, "Your fish-headed god's power may be great, but none of it has benefited you. In that case, Jacob is doomed."

Julian had the guards bring handcuffs and rope, personally gagged Nathaniel, and then kicked the Soul-Seeking Conch far away.

Edmund immediately stood up and turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

The cult has located Twilight Harbor and has accurately called out his real name.

He certainly needs stronger personal power, but he urgently needs a powerful backer who can make the cult think twice.

Fortunately, the latter is not actually difficult; the solution is readily available right behind you.

Edmund turned to Julian, who had just stepped out the door: "Mr. Weiss, I request an immediate increase in security."

The attendant glanced at the chaotic street, then looked at him: "If you are requesting support from someone of rank two or above, that is probably beyond what I can currently approve directly."

"Then quickly report to the prince who can approve it," Edmund said matter-of-factly. "The Order has already contacted me and even sent a follower of an evil god."

"If the royal family still believes that the current protection is sufficient, then for the sake of my life, I will have no choice but to leave Twilight Harbor and continue my escape."

This is a reasonable choice that someone being hunted by a cult would make, and Julian certainly understood what that meant.

Once Edmund leaves, the royal family will lose its only known member of the cult who is currently willing to communicate.

"I will send the report with the highest priority," Julian assured him. "The situation here and your conditions will be included. I will remain at the old relief center until I receive a response."

A sudden, rapid flapping of wings echoed from within the courtyard. Moro landed on Neud's shoulder, a ring of black liquid already condensed around its beak.

Glossy wet marks.

The old man was helped downstairs; his face was ashen, his lips were purple from the cold, and a thin layer of frost had formed on the edge of his black robe.

He opened his mouth to try to speak, but still couldn't make a sound.

Raven cleared his throat for him and announced in Neud's originally deep voice.

"Hot water, blankets, doctors, and hazard pay were all lost."

Edmund ordered hot water and blankets to be prepared immediately, and also told the still-shaken doorman to contact the doctor.

Moro continued in the same voice, "Article four of the contract states that if the employer conceals known dangers, the employer shall bear the additional losses and medical expenses."

Neud sat down in the chair that had been moved in and nodded slowly.

"I admit I hid it, um————"

"Some situations that might not have seemed important at the time," Edmund replied.

"But I truly didn't know they could find Twilight Harbor, and tonight's retinue far exceeded reasonable expectations."

We probably can't rely on the mental state of cult members.

Moro turned his head to look at his master. Noid raised his frozen hand and began to gesture wildly.

After several rounds of negotiation with ravens acting as intermediaries, the two parties finally agreed on supplementary terms.

The remaining reward is increased by 30%, Edmund covers all treatment and recovery material costs, the deadline is extended by two weeks, and a set of designated hardcore items is collected.

Moro said in Ms. Shaw's voice, "Deal."

Neud took the first cup of hot water, held it with both hands, and finally nodded in satisfaction.

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