"Blade Dance, activate!"
Twelve sword shadows bloomed like a deadly lotus flower. In an instant, they slashed out in all directions, slicing the swarming Corpse Bugs in half.
[ENOUGH EXPERIENCE. CURRENT THIEF LEVEL: 51]
[ENOUGH EXPERIENCE. CURRENT THIEF LEVEL: 52]
[ENOUGH EXPERIENCE. CURRENT THIEF LEVEL: 53]
The system messages scrolled past in a continuous, satisfying stream, but Alan never stopped. As his Thief level increased, every aspect of his physical fitness was enhanced. At the same time, with continuous use, his weapon mastery and shadow blade skills were leveling up, further improving his combat power.
"Don't stop! I want more!"
Alan was going mad with power. The career levels were soaring like a rocket. Within fifteen minutes, both skills had been maxed out.
[WEAPON MASTERY LV. 10: HIT +10, STRENGTH +10, ARMOR PIERCE +10]
[SHADOW BLADE LV. 10: ATTACK SPEED AND DAMAGE INCREASED BY 100%]
As he swung and slashed, the silver-white light of his sword became a blur, giving the Corpse Bugs no chance to get close. The sword shadows formed a nearly airtight barrier around his body.
A manic laugh escaped him. "The crazier and more violent it gets, the more excited I become!"
Suddenly, the insect swarm stopped its attack. The darkness receded. The Corpse Bugs fell like raindrops, igniting with a rootless fire before they even hit the ground, turning to ash in an instant. The peeling, fleshy walls of the Otherworld burned away, and in the blink of an eye, the grimy school toilet returned to its normal, dilapidated state.
"I haven't even gotten serious yet, and you're all finished," Alan muttered gloomily, feeling a pang of disappointment that his rapid experience gain was over.
Looking around, the dismembered corpse of the Twisted Monster was still lying where he'd left it.
"I wonder if Bat and Green Arrow are in any danger." Alan suddenly remembered that his companions had been separated during the insect swarm. He immediately decided to find his teammates first.
Walking alone through the decaying school, Alan shouted from time to time, "Bat, I see you! Stop hiding!"
Or he would lean toward a dry, empty glass fish tank and say, "Green Arrow, your father isn't dead. Come out and meet him."
Alan walked past an office, threw his head back, and shouted, "Bat, I have a parent-teacher conference notice for you!"
Just as he was about to move on, an old photograph hanging on the wall caught his attention. In the photo, two middle-aged men stood shaking hands. A small plaque below read: 'Thank you, Mr. Osborn, for your support of education.'
Osborn Industries? Alan remembered that the Green Goblin's last name was Osborn. While he couldn't verify the full history of the family, based on what he knew from movies and comics, they were an old, established capitalist dynasty with deep ties to the military. Often, families like that built their fortunes on energy. Silent Hill was a classic energy-export town.
After a brief look, Alan continued his search for Bruce and Oliver. After all, the Green Goblin was Spider-Man's enemy, not his.
Using his Rope Claw, Alan zipped between buildings, looking for any sign of his companions. The cultists hiding in the shadows watched him with wide, shocked eyes. They had set traps at various exits, but they had only managed to catch two of the intruders. The third was this strange, unnervingly energetic young man.
At that moment, inside the town's hidden church, Christabella waved a hand. "Splash them awake."
Bruce and Oliver, the very men Alan was searching for, were tied up and unconscious. A basin of cold water was unceremoniously dumped on their heads, and the two woke up slowly.
"Welcome, our distinguished guests." With a playful, mocking expression, Christabella took the Blade of Redemption from a nearby altar. "For the great Master of the League to send his servants instead of coming himself… you must look down on us a great deal."
Bruce and Oliver struggled against their bonds, but the ropes were tied with expert knots. All their weapons had been confiscated, leaving them no chance to escape. They had waited for the Otherworld to recede and decided to scout the location of the church, only to walk directly into a trap. A group of burly men with electric batons had stunned them into unconsciousness.
"There are three of us," Bruce said, implying that Alan would come to rescue them.
Christabella let out a short, sharp laugh. "That fool is having the time of his life. He may have already forgotten about you."
Indeed, considering Alan's unreliable character, it seemed more likely they would have to save themselves.
"We shouldn't be enemies. We can choose to cooperate," Oliver said, his tone serious. "We are all trapped in Silent Hill. You need the Blade of Redemption to lift the curse. We can do it for you."
Hearing this, Christabella was silent for a moment. They had tried to kill Alessa more than once, but Alchemira Hospital was too dangerous. Once the blade was lost, no other weapon could harm her. She didn't dare take the risk. "You know nothing of Samael's power," she said, declining the offer.
"I have a question," Bruce analyzed. "The source of this power is the offspring of the fallen angel Samael. You want to kill her, so why does Samael still protect you?"
By normal logic, a parent would not protect the murderer of their own child. Of course, applying normal logic to demons and fallen angels was inappropriate. The only plausible explanation was that the child was meant to be a vessel for Samael's advent. But that didn't explain why the cultists, who wanted to kill the vessel, were still being protected.
"I didn't expect you to know so much," Christabella said bluntly. "Initially, we did believe in Samael. But since the ritual failed and we were cursed, we have converted to believing in Flauros."
"That still doesn't make sense," Bruce pressed, ever the detective. "Samael is one of the Seven Kings of Hell. Flauros is just one of the seventy-two lesser demons of the Ars Goetia. To fight a king, you should convert to another king, like Belial."
Christabella couldn't help but roll her eyes, clearly not wanting to dwell on the issue.
At this, Oliver speculated, a cynical guess forming in his mind. "Perhaps it's politics, even in Hell. Belial is also one of the seven kings. Maybe he didn't want to openly seize Samael's followers, so he arranged for a subordinate to act as a shield. If Samael ever decided to retaliate, they could just sacrifice the subordinate to appease him."
In fact, Oliver had hit the nail on the head. Flauros was indeed a scapegoat. The Seven Kings of Hell were all part of the same fallen angel camp. They had a certain professional courtesy. If they truly wanted to fall out, Samael's power would have been dispelled long ago. The fact that it only extended to protecting this one small church spoke volumes.
***********
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