Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Embassy of Intis, main hall.

boom!

The two heavy mahogany doors were smashed apart by a tremendous force, and wood chips flew everywhere like shrapnel.

When Rosago rushed into the hall, he saw a scroll depicting hell.

The once magnificent dance floor is now covered in blood.

The strong smell of sulfur, mixed with the stench of burnt raw meat, stung the eyes.

And in the very center of hell stood a monster.

The thing was at least three meters tall and completely black.

It has two curved ram horns on its head.

Each flap of the bat wings on its back generates a corrosive heat wave.

"Where did this mad dog come from...?"

Rosago's eyelids twitched violently.

The "Master of Mysteries" is Sequence 5.

He recognized it at a glance—it was the demonic form of the "Abyss" pathway.

Or rather, he was a "shepherd" who had devoured the soul of a demon.

"heresy!"

Mr. A, now transformed into a demon, turned his enormous head, his scarlet compound eyes locking onto Rosago at the doorway.

Without the slightest hesitation, a phantom, transparent book suddenly appeared in front of him.

The pages rustled as they turned, accompanied by a deep, fervent chant:

"I came, I saw, I recorded."

hum-

A deep, dark aura, seemingly capable of sucking away the soul, erupted in an instant.

Mr. A's figure swelled up again, instantly transforming into a knight over two meters tall, completely covered in black armor.

He raised a greatsword that seemed to be formed from pure darkness and brought it down on Rosago's head.

This sword strike was so fast that it made no sound.

Only ripples of air being torn apart.

"Damn it!"

Rosago felt a chill run down his spine.

He didn't have time to control the chaotic and violent spiritual lines of the other party, or even to dodge.

An attack of that intensity, even just a glancing blow, could kill him.

He suddenly pulled his right hand away.

A waiter who had been frantically running away suddenly froze.

Like a marionette, it suddenly darted in front of Rosago.

puff.

The black sword fell.

The waiter didn't even have time to scream before he was neatly sliced ​​in half like a block of butter.

The cut was smooth, and not a drop of blood flowed out.

The soul, along with the body, was swallowed by darkness in that instant.

"cough!"

Rosago groaned, his face turning deathly pale, and a trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

That was the spiritual backlash brought about by the death of the secret puppet.

He didn't bother wiping his mouth, his eyes darting around frantically, scanning every corner of the hall.

No.

No.

There were severed limbs everywhere, but Beckeran was nowhere to be seen.

"They ran away?"

Rosago felt a sense of relief, followed by a surge of elation.

Since his employer wasn't around, he didn't need to fight this madman.

"roar--"

The dark knight in front of him raised his greatsword once more.

"madman!"

Rosago cursed loudly, and suddenly a handful of gold coins exploded in his hand.

In the fleeting moment of golden light.

His figure twisted eerily.

It swapped places with a corpse lying by the door.

Then, without looking back, he rushed toward the side gate leading to the garden.

……

The embassy's side entrance, the garden.

The night was deep.

Far from the hustle and bustle of the main hall, only the screams echoing in the mist came from afar.

Bang.

The side door was kicked open.

Rosago staggered out.

He clutched his chest, breathing heavily, his usually meticulously combed mustache now stained with blood.

"Damn the Aurora Club... Damn Beckeron..."

He cursed as he activated his spiritual vision, trying to find any trace left by the ambassador.

Although the attack just now was blocked by the secret puppet.

But the awe emanating from the higher being still harmed his spirit.

It feels like needles are pricking my brain right now.

He just wanted to find the person as soon as possible and get out of this godforsaken place.

But he didn't notice.

Right in the shadow of the flowerbed at his feet.

A pair of lifeless eyes were coldly staring at his ankle.

Just as Rosago took the next step.

Whoosh!

A dark shadow suddenly sprang up from the flower bed.

There was no murderous intent, no spiritual fluctuations.

It's like a corpse suddenly coming back to life.

"What...?"

Rosago reacted extremely quickly, instinctively trying to manipulate the other party's spiritual threads.

But he froze.

In that instant, he felt as if he had crashed into a block of ice that had never melted.

The opponent didn't defend at all, but instead spread his arms wide, like an iron hoop, and hugged his waist tightly!

They're zombies!

The cold, stiff touch caused Rosago's movements to pause for a fatal second.

one second.

For a Sequence 5 powerhouse, this one second is usually enough for him to kill his opponent ten times over.

But now, he is injured, spiritually depleted, and under close physical control.

This second is the deadline.

"Bang!"

A gunshot rang out in Rosago's ears.

There was no fancy magic, no eerie curses.

It's just a revolver loaded with Demon Hunter bullets.

Flames erupted from a distance of less than five meters.

Rosago felt a chill between his brows.

His eyes widened, and through his gradually dilating pupils, he saw the man emerge from the shadows.

The detective who always looked gentle, wearing a half-high silk hat.

At that moment, the detective was holding a gun with both hands, in a shooting stance.

His face was expressionless, only filled with icy killing intent.

"you……"

Rosago opened his mouth.

He couldn't figure it out.

How dare this little bug with sequence 8?

How dare he hunt down a Sequence 5 powerhouse?

But his thinking stopped there.

The bullet exploded inside his skull, completely shattering his last vestige of life.

thump.

Rosago's body slid softly to the ground, his eyes still staring wide-eyed, filled with resentment.

Points of eerie blue light began to gather above his corpse; these were the extraordinary properties that were being extracted.

Klein lowered the muzzle of his gun, his arm numb from the recoil.

He looked at the corpse on the ground, and the tightness in his chest didn't dissipate; instead, it felt even heavier.

"it's over."

Maric released his grip, disgustedly flicking the blood off his clothes, a hint of surprise on his dead face:

"It's quite brutal."

Klein didn't say anything.

He stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the extraordinary characteristic that was taking shape.

The cold touch is transmitted through the gloves.

"This thing..."

Klein murmured softly, his voice hoarse:

"Can it save Orion's life?"

Marich glanced at him but didn't reply.

In this damn world, exceptional qualities are the only true and lasting currency.

As for human lives? Those are just disposable containers.

If it's broken, it's broken; there's no way to return or exchange it.

"Let's go."

Maric reminded him,

"That crazy shepherd is still inside; it's not safe here."

Klein took one last look at the embassy, ​​which was still brightly lit but had become a living hell, pulled down his hat brim, and turned to disappear into the darkness.

He avenged his assistant.

But he was not happy at all.

……

at the same time.

It's two blocks away from the embassy.

"Huff... huff..."

Heavy breathing echoed through the narrow alley.

Ambassador Beckerang leaned against the moss-covered wall, his legs as weak as noodles.

His expensive handmade suit was tattered and his face was covered in dust.

He looked like a homeless person who had just crawled out of a garbage dump.

"Mr. Ambassador... hang in there... it's safe up ahead..."

Beside him, the young guard was in an even worse state than him.

He was covered in blood, walked with a limp, and every breath seemed to be accompanied by a painful gasp.

But he still gripped the ambassador's arm tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Good...well done..."

Beckerang was so moved that his eyes welled up with tears.

He vowed that if he could return alive, he would definitely promote this young man.

This is the backbone of Intis!

He's a million times better than that bastard Rosago who was nowhere to be found at the crucial moment!

"Once we're in a safe place... I'll give you... a medal..."

"I promise," Beckeron said, panting heavily.

"Thank you... thank you, sir..."

The young guard managed a weak, tearful smile of gratitude.

The two stumbled and fell into a dead end.

At the end was a high wall covered in moss, a dead end.

"Where's the way?! Where's the secret passage you mentioned?!"

Beckeron gripped the arm of the person next to him tightly, his voice cracking, his body covered in cold sweat.

"It's...inside..."

The young guard was trembling all over, not only from the weakness of blood loss, but also as if he had witnessed something extremely terrifying.

He stretched out his blood-stained finger, trembling, pointing to the darkest, most gloomy corner of the wall, his voice trembling with tears:

"There should have been someone there to meet us..."

A backup?

That's all?

Becker's heart skipped a beat, and he looked up abruptly.

There was no backup.

Only a pitch-black figure hung in mid-air without warning.

An elaborate black dress.

Pale white doll.

And those blue eyes that looked down at you, devoid of any human warmth.

She floated there silently, like a ghost that had been waiting at the entrance to a grave.

Dead silence.

Under those eyes, Becker felt his heart skip a beat.