Marich was at the forefront, his slightly disheveled hair completely blown backward by the wind, his facial expression twisted into a fierce, grim semblance. His speed surpassed even that of the steam train at its peak—he surged forward with a sudden burst and reached the entrance of the open space in a flash. Yet even thus, he could not escape the pursuers behind. The closest to him was a man whose complexion matched his own paleness, with a few faint black patches on his face, as though remnants of healed rotting wounds, and whose malice was fully uncontained, radiating like that of a living corpse more than a human being. Klein suspected this man was Jason, the Sequence 6. Jason and Marich maintained a distance of between seven and eight meters, constantly adjusting it—sometimes lengthening, sometimes shortening, back and forth. Behind them, several meters further, a figure was being steadily pulled farther and farther away: a lean yet sturdy man with a short, sharply upright haircut, each hair strand standing like a sharp spike. As his arms swung, the tips of his palms glowed with a metallic radiance, faintly tinged with the soft, crimson moonlight—long, slender black nails, sharp as blades. "Werewolf" Tael...克莱恩 silently murmured the designation and name in his mind, while in his mind's eye, he saw walls splattered with blood, intestines hanging from bulging spots, and scattered limbs and organs, all drenched in blood. Tink-tink-tink! Marianch fled with all the strength he could muster, Jason gritting his teeth, desperately pursuing. The black spots on Jason's face that had healed were now swelling, glowing bright, as if a putrid fluid were about to drip out. Wherever they passed, the puddles of water and the liquid in the muddy soil rapidly solidified into white frost, inch by inch, freezing over. The withered grasses were lifted by the force of their passing wind, then slowly withering and decaying as they fell, visibly deteriorating. Suddenly, a pale hand emerged from the frosted soil, precisely grasping Jason's ankle. Plink! Jason twisted his body, delivered a powerful kick, and snapped the wrist of the hand, sending it flying. At the port, the flesh had already rotted away, and white maggot-like worms surged out, wriggling eagerly. Marić paused, clutched his lips with his right hand, and blew a sharp, piercing whistle. Thump! Thump! Thump! Soil from various points on the open ground was uprooted, and one by one, lifeless bodies rose up, expressionless. At the same time, a cold breeze suddenly spiraled, and countless translucent shadows—seeming to have sensed the feast of blood—rushed toward Jason, eager not to be left behind. Some pulled at his arms, others tugged at his legs, and some even embraced his head. Jason halted, hummed a low note. The shadows instantly recoiled, some crying out as they vanished, others dissolving into the ground. Almost instantly, Marić and Jason both raised their right hands, with their thumbs upright, resting beside their index fingers, while their index fingers now pointed directly at each other. Without a sound, the air between the two ruptured, rising in spirals of black vapor. Marić stepped back, and several strands of his disheveled hair instantly withered and fell downward. "Marić, you're still so weak—you never grasp the power of desire!" Jason chuckled, his voice low and gravelly. At that moment, the werewolf Tael arrived at his side, while the Sequence 5 powerhouse Steve remained unknown in his whereabouts. "Don't rush to defeat Marić. Wait for Sharon to rescue him. Steve will arrive shortly," Tael whispered to Jason. He immediately extended his bright red tongue and licked his lips: "I don't know what Sharon will look like once she's completely naked..." Before he finished speaking, he suddenly noticed Jason turning his head, his pale face grim and wan, his eyes now faintly revealing two identical figures—black court gowns, golden hair, refined features, and lifeless skin! Plink! He reached out both hands and clamped down on the "werewolf" Tael's neck, the bones groaning under the pressure. Sharon, the spirit of resentment, had arrived! Tael gasped sharply, his neck swelling like a pipe, black, stiff hairs sprouting along it, briefly resisting the force that threatened to crush his trachea and cervical vertebrae. His eyes began to turn white, his red tongue protruding, thick saliva dripping steadily from the sides of his lips. Yet, with steady precision, his right hand reached into his coat pocket, breaking a certain spiritual constraint. The entire open area around the warehouses suddenly brightened, filled with a deep crimson moonlight. Jason swiftly reduced the pressure he exerted on the wolf-man Tael's neck, and at his back, a figure in a delicate soft hat materialized. Tael smiled, a blend of satisfaction and cruelty spreading across his face. With his right hand, he drew out a miniature "full moon" from his coat pocket—the crimson "full moon!" It was a serene, dark-red accessory shaped like a crescent moon, encrusted with numerous crimson stones around its edge, and featuring a lunar symbol and various mysterious inscriptions at its center. Salen instinctively narrowed her eyes, took two steps back, and the sense of ethereal drift quickly faded. Her legs seemed no longer able to support her weight; she gently collapsed to the ground, her elaborate black court gown now dusted with dirt and mud. The werewolf Tael raised the palm-sized circular ornament, glowing with a vibrant crimson radiance, and breathed out a smile. "Steve's absolutely right—you'll certainly launch a counterattack, and the one you're currently channeling, Sharon, must be Jason, one level above me in sequence. That's why he entrusted me with the 'Crimson Moon Crown.' Where do you think he is now?" ...That's not at all what Sharon anticipated. It seems I'll have to choose the most opportune moment to strike. Kline frowned, listening intently, and struggled to suppress the growing restlessness within him. At this moment, Tael didn't rush into attack, knowing that the longer the effect of the 'Crimson Moon Crown' lasted, the more weakened Sharon would become and the more suffering Mariqi would endure. Jason's inherently cold gaze now carried a streak of fierce, almost savage intensity—his rationality had completely vanished. He too was affected by the "Deep Crimson Corona," yet, accustomed to indulging his desires, he did not feel any pain—instead, he yearned intensely for the fresh blood and flesh before him. "Hel—!" Jason emitted a low roar unlike anything human, his exposed skin and hair turning stark white at the roots. At that moment, Sharon struggled to raise her arms, using her left hand to remove the black glove from her right palm, while Jason surged toward her, and the surrounding soil instantly coated with a thin layer of ice! Suddenly, an endless surge of ethereal light erupted from Sharon's palms. Drawing upon her spiritual essence, these rays wove together before her figure, forming a magnificent bronze-colored gate adorned with mysterious patterns, emitting a scent indescribable in nature. The gate swayed and creaked, finally opening with a groan, revealing a narrow crack! Through that crack, arms emerged—some pale, some transparent, some toothed, others blood-streaked and skinless—reaching across the void and grasping the living corpse, Jason. A multitude of eyes, indescribably strange, crowded in the darkness behind the door, silently watching the prey before them. Jason hadn't even had time to react when a series of arms seized him, when a cascade of smooth, ethereal tentacles ensnared him, when a network of dark, vine-like tendrils, revealing faces like infants, bound him! These eerie beings cried out and laughed hysterically, struggling desperately to drag the "corpse" Jason toward the shadows behind the door. Even as his thoughts were completely consumed by bloodlust and the desire to kill, Jason instinctively felt fear. "Hey!" His voice suddenly sharpened, and a layer of frost instantly formed on each of the arms that sent shivers down his spine. The dark, vine-like tendrils, each revealing an infant's face, emitted groans of pain, with a thick, yellowish, decaying fluid continuously dripping from them. The pulling force eased, yet it did not cease. Jason continuously drove the spirits of the undead into chaos, as if casting stones into the sea—his attempts to summon spells from the domain of death yielded only modest results. His body steadily and resolutely advanced step by step toward the crack in the ethereal, mysterious gate, occasionally managing to retreat slightly. Thanks to having taken a tranquilizer beforehand, Mariqi remained unbroken by the agony and seized the opportunity to administer his final two doses. With a crisp snap, he broke the bottle neck and, using the glass shards as a guide, downed half of one in a single gulp. The suppressed malice in his eyes softened, his facial distortions resumed normalcy, and his gaze instantly turned to the "werewolf" Tael. At the same time, Tael’s slender yet robust form vanished from his spot and materialized several meters away. As his silhouette emerged, the original location still retained a faint, ghostly afterimage—rising from the ground like a living current of black mist, the mist surged through the residual form, swaying and then dissolving. Tael wasn't using a "flash" — he simply didn't possess that extraordinary ability. He was relying entirely on the supreme speed granted by the "Deep Crimson Coronet!" The speed that could drag behind lingering shadows! At this moment, hidden in the dim shadows atop the warehouse, Caine reached into his coat pocket with his left hand, touching the iron cigarette box, releasing the "spiritual prison" on its surface, and smoothly opening the lid. He believed that the spirit, Steve, had surely arrived on the scene. Otherwise, the current stalemate would inevitably drag Jason toward that dreadful door, and even with the "Deep Crimson Coronet" enhancing his strength, Tael wouldn't be able to handle Marič in the short term. Once then, Sharon would use the "Mysterious Gate" to target the werewolf, and the "Deep Crimson Coronet" would inevitably pass into her hands. As soon as Caine's fingers made contact with the "Eye of Pure Black" inside the iron cigarette box, a wild, foul, and terrifying murmuring flooded his mind! It was a terrifying mutterings that made veins stand out, eyes nearly burst, and the head prone to bursting at any moment. Within this mutterings, Caine saw strange, mysterious, ethereal threads of black—divided into groups, some extending to Sharon's body, others emanating from the "werewolf" Tael—interweaving without entanglement and piercing the void. Many of these black threads originated from areas near, yet not overlapping, with Mariichi! "Steve, the spirit of sorrow!" Caine thought. "He's about to possess Mariichi!" With a swift mental realization, he withdrew his left hand. He didn't directly pull the trigger, but merely tapped his fingers softly. Boom! A sudden explosion erupted in the narrow space between the two warehouses, sending a surge of flame and heat that lifted a figure dressed in a black double-breasted formal suit into the air. With the distraction thus created, Caine quickly drew his gun and pulled the trigger at the precise location remembered. At the same time, a shimmer of luminous light flashed from the dark golden sunbird brooch on his chest. He attached the "Blade of Purification" to the "Purifying Bullet!" Thwip! The bullet shot forth, trailing a gentle glow of pale gold.