Chapter 129: The One Who Lost Control

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine
The One Who Lost Control

Lost control?

Klein’s heart clenched, and he nearly asked the question aloud.

Although Dunn and Old Neil often emphasized the danger of losing control and how frequently it happened, this was still the first time he had encountered such a matter. For a moment, he felt panic, confusion, fear, sorrow—a terribly complicated mixture.

“Of the cases handled every year, one quarter involve Beyonders losing control… and a large portion of that quarter are our teammates…”

Dunn’s past words flashed through Klein’s mind, making even his reactions seem to slow.

Old Neil, however, had experienced far too many similar incidents. He immediately asked, “Where is the one who lost control? What do you need us to do?”

Klein was stunned for a moment. He had thought that a slippery, lazy, semi-retired person like Old Neil would find an excuse to reject Swain’s request, or at least extort a large benefit before attempting to help. He never expected the older man to show not the slightest hesitation and immediately enter a state of participation, paying no attention to the distinction between Nighthawks and Mandated Punishers.

Looking at Old Neil’s serious expression, Klein suddenly understood something: whether Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, or Machinery Hivemind members, their goal was to stop extraordinary power from harming innocents and to maintain Tingen City’s safety and stability. When dangerous, urgent situations appeared, duty left no room for evasion.

At that moment, Swain answered in an unusually concise manner:

“Support me.”

He did not explain why the man had lost control, or where the person was. He turned and strode toward the exit.

This former Mandated Punishers captain was clearly only an old man addicted to alcohol, yet Klein discovered that he actually could not keep up with the other man’s pace and had to break into a jog just to avoid falling behind.

He glanced sideways at Old Neil and saw that this Mystery Pryer, whose body already showed signs of aging, had begun running too.

The three ignored the gazes of the guards along the way. One wore an old naval officer’s coat, one a dark classical robe, and one a thin black windbreaker reaching to his knees. Thud, thud, thud, they rushed out of the billiards room and out of the Dragon Bar.

Customers drinking, placing bets, and cheering instinctively shifted their attention away from the dogs catching rats in the cage, glancing at Klein and the others.

“Isn’t that Boss Swain?”

“What’s he rushing out for?”

“Someone refusing to repay a debt?”

…

Amid hushed discussion, some drinkers turned their attention back to the cage and once again shouted encouragement, venting the oppression of the day. Others, more alert, vaguely sensed unease.

Thud, thud, thud!

Following Swain, Klein and Old Neil ran across the road and into the true docks area.

“That ship.”

Swain slowed and pointed toward an inland cargo ship moored not far away.

“Two Mandated Punishers are on board, trying to keep that out-of-control Beyonder occupied and stop him from entering the Tussock River. You help me influence him and control him. Leave what comes after to me.”

Old Neil sucked in several breaths like a bellows and said, “All right, but—but you need to give me one minute. Hoo. One minute to recover.”

Swain nodded and said nothing further. He was the first to rush onto the cargo ship and join the battle.

Listening to the thud, thud, thud of fighting from above, Old Neil glanced at the slightly nervous Klein. From a hidden pocket at his waist, he took out a silver sheet the size of a baby’s palm and passed it over.

“A Slumber Charm. The activation incantation is the ancient Hermes word for night. After reciting the incantation, pour your spirituality into it and throw it at the target within three seconds.”

“Mm!”

Klein reached out and accepted it, feeling a surge of gratitude.

Both front and back of the charm were engraved with incantations written in Hermes, symbolic signs, corresponding spiritual numbers, and magical markings. He did not even need to activate spirit vision. Relying only on intuition, he could sense the obscure, quiet, profound mystical power inside.

Old Neil straightened his back and took an identical silver charm from his hidden pocket, holding it in his palm. As he walked toward the cargo ship, he cracked a joke.

“Do not be nervous. Relax. Think about something else—for example, that charm is something I am lending you. If you use it, remember to make another one and return it to me. Of course, you may wait until next month, after your material quota is restored, before doing so.”

This… As expected of experienced Old Neil…

Klein put the charm in his left pocket, reached under his arm, and drew the revolver from its holster, adjusting the firing position and trigger.

“I think I am no longer nervous…”

Holding his gun in one hand and his cane in the other, he and Old Neil climbed the gangway together, steadily boarding the cargo ship.

The ship clearly bore the marks of the era. Although it used steam power and had an additional funnel, it still retained a mast, sails, and other arrangements from the past. Its surface was sheathed in metal, and some areas used steel, but many parts were still built of wood.

The thudding of combat grew more intense. Klein and Old Neil had just begun searching for the entrance to the cabin when they suddenly heard a tremendous crash mixed with cracking.

The side of the wooden cabin instantly burst apart. Splinters flew everywhere, and a figure fell out, slamming into the bulwark.

Klein had no time to look at the person’s injuries. His gaze fixed completely on the monster rushing toward the breach.

The monster stood over 1.8 meters tall. It wore a shirt and trousers so torn they were barely recognizable. Every exposed part of its body was covered in dark-green scales, and webbing had grown between its fingers and toes, like certain aquatic animals.

It had a wrinkled head where faint traces of human features could still be seen. Mucus flowed over its scales, continuously dripping down.

Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!

That dark-green mucus lightly corroded the deck, leaving distinct marks.

Bang! Just as the monster tried to charge out of the breach, Swain punched it from the side and knocked it two steps sideways.

Bang, bang, bang! Swain’s muscles were exaggerated, but his strength was clearly inferior to the monster’s. Although his fists and feet struck the other party, they could not shatter its scales and did little real damage. For a time, he looked extremely wretched, swaying as though about to fall.

If not for his astonishing sense of balance, and if not for another Mandated Punisher moving along with him and firing shots to restrain the monster, Klein suspected that the blue-eyed old man would be beaten to death by the thing.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Swain retreated again and again, then advanced again and again, like a moth knowingly throwing itself at flame.

But Klein could sense that he was accumulating something, waiting for something.

Bang!

Swain was forced several steps back by a blow, and at the same time blocked the other Mandated Punisher’s line of sight.

The monster seized the chance and immediately rushed toward the breach.

It wanted to escape the cabin and leap into the Tussock River.

Looking at that wrinkled, mucus-covered head, Klein raised his right hand and squeezed the trigger.

Bang!

The silver Demon-hunting Bullet struck the monster’s body exactly as he expected, but it merely broke the scales and embedded a little more than halfway in.

The monster instantly let out a piercing shriek. Kicking off with both feet, it pounced out like the wind—pounced toward Klein.

The heavy stench of fish drilled into his nose. Klein abruptly ducked low and rolled to the side.

Clang! He felt the ship shake, and fragments struck his body.

At the same time, he heard an aged, low voice: an incantation spoken in ancient Hermes.

“Night!”

Klein rolled twice more. With no time to retrieve his cane, he hurriedly raised his gun and lifted his head. He saw Old Neil, not far from the monster, calmly throw the charm in his hand.

The thin silver sheet was soon wrapped in dark-red flame and gave off a faint explosive sound.

Profound, peaceful power dispersed in an instant. The monster, which had almost smashed through the bulwark, immediately began swaying, its movements slowing.

At that moment, Swain charged out of the cabin, closed in on the monster, twisted his waist, swung his arms, and struck several times like a machine gun. Every hit landed with a bang, bang, bang upon the enemy’s head.

Yet he could only break cracks open and still could not inflict fatal damage. Even so, Klein could sense that the blue-eyed old man’s accumulation was about to reach its peak.

Bang! The monster seemed to recover. It flung its forearm backward, sweeping Swain five steps away. Each step cracked the deck beneath his feet.

Seeing that the monster was about to turn and jump off the cargo ship, Klein hurriedly took out the Slumber Charm from his left pocket.

Immediately afterward, he skillfully recited one ancient Hermes word:

“Night!”

All at once, Klein felt the silver charm in his palm turn icy cold, as though it had been formed from layer upon layer of snowflakes.

He did not think too much. He poured his own spirituality into the charm, pulled his shoulder, flicked his arm, and threw it at the monster.

At that very moment, the fish-man-like monster had already leaped into the air.

A dark-red flame suddenly lit the surrounding darkness. The soft explosive sound rippled outward like the prelude to hypnosis.

Bang!

The monster fell straight onto the dock, curling into a ball as it briefly entered a half-slumbering state.

Klein was about to rush to the bulwark and fire at the monster’s head when he suddenly saw Swain, whose naval officer’s coat had somehow vanished, charge out and jump down after it.

In midair, he adjusted his posture, every muscle on his body bulging.

In Klein’s intuition, something suppressed to its absolute limit erupted. Swain descended from above and smashed onto the monster. Then he straightened his back and slammed a heavy fist downward, striking the other party’s head.

Crack!

The monster’s head split into pieces. Dark-red blood and gray-white brain matter splattered everywhere, mingled with dark-green mucus.

“So this is one of the abilities of a Folk of Rage?”

Klein stood beside the shattered bulwark, murmuring soundlessly to himself.

Old Neil, clutching his left hand, came closer and also looked down.

At that moment, Swain stood upright, standing there, silently gazing down at the monster beneath his feet—the monster whose life had ended.

From somewhere, he took out a flattened metal flask, pulled the cap open, and drank nearly half of it with gulps. Then he tilted the bottle mouth toward the monster and poured all the remaining liquor over the other party.

After finishing this, Swain seemed to abruptly grow old. Even his waist and back bent a little further.

Old Neil sighed. Looking down at the scene below, he spoke to Klein in a low voice.

“I knew that Mandated Punisher who lost control. He followed Swain for twenty or thirty years. He once eliminated water ghosts that had come ashore to kill people, and captured evil Beyonders who tried to escape by diving through the Tussock River…”

He did not continue, but Klein understood the meaning hidden in his words.

A “guardian” who had accumulated many merits and killed many monsters had, in the end, become a monster himself.

And this was no isolated case. It was a possible ending that many Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, and Machinery Hivemind members might one day face.