The four of them reflexively stepped back two paces. Their eyes trembled, not because they feared the robed figures, but because they could feel what Zavi had experienced, kneeling while clutching his groin.

  A few seconds later, Albert slightly raised his head. His gaze moved to the right, then to the left, and finally behind him, remaining vigilant in case one of the robed figures above launched a simultaneous attack.

  Then, from the left, the sound of measured footsteps approached. Albert turned and saw Moreira walking toward him.

  Instantly, Albert raised one hand. Feyne, Luke, Moreira, and the robed figures immediately fixed their sharp gazes on him.

  'This might be better,' he thought briefly.

  "I'm just someone who happened to pass by while running a small business. Nothing more," Albert said, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings.

  He let out a short breath, carefully choosing his next words.

  "Perhaps the person you're looking for is over there." Albert pointed at Moreira, intending to make him the scapegoat.

  Moreira's eyelids widened along with his stiffened jaw. "Hey, hey. Bastard. Why are you slandering me?" he shouted, unable to hide his shock.

  The robed figure who had kicked Zavi earlier lowered her hood. Her face was now clearly visible. A pale-skinned woman with long black hair flowing past her shoulders and blue eyes that shimmered like reflections of moonlight—her elegance was striking and undeniable.

  "What do you mean by that?" she asked, stepping closer toward him.

  Albert looked at her flatly, without emotion, still contemplating his next words.

  "Huh? Miss, didn't you catch what I just said?"

  'A robed group? Lately I've been receiving quite a bit of information about them hunting for prey in Moran,' he thought with caution.

  Click.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Zavi pulled the trigger without hesitation. Shot after shot struck the woman's body until his pistol's magazine was completely empty. Not a single bullet was left.

  "Huhhh…" Her robe was torn in several places. From the bullet holes in her chest, blood slowly flowed out, seeping and soaking into the dark fabric until it turned crimson.

  The woman staggered before falling to her knees. One hand supported her body while the other covered her mouth as her breathing choked. "You… bastard…" she muttered weakly, her lips trembling.

  "Huh… not bad at all," commented the man who had spoken to them earlier, his tone almost sounding amused.

  Albert and the others looked up at the same time. Moreira was also frozen in place, his mind in chaos. This situation had completely deviated from anything he had planned.

  He wanted to run away. But he didn't know whether he would survive if he left this place.

  In the end, he decided to approach Zavi and the others. Ten robed figures were far too dangerous to face alone. A temporary alliance seemed like the only reasonable option!

  But his steps suddenly stopped.

  Moreira's eyes widened.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The woman who should have been on the brink of death slowly stood up again. The wounds on her body began to close, the blood stopped flowing, and her breathing returned to normal—as if the earlier gunshots had never happened.

  It was something ordinary. He knew it, and he had experienced it himself.

  As long as spiritual energy did not run out, one would not die. That was the condition for performing the exchange.

  'This makes no sense. Is that woman a monster…?' Zavi thought, his throat dry as he still held the pistol with heavily trembling hands.

  Meanwhile, Zavi had actually already expected the result to be like this. Remembering the information Karl had told him during their conversation at the café, he let out a long breath and slid the pistol back into his coat pocket.

  'This is ridiculous. She's no longer an ordinary human.'

  'What chance does a normal person have against a Receiver with such terrifying supernatural power?' Zavi thought, unsure what would happen next.

  Just as he was about to give up, Albert stepped closer from behind, patting his shoulder with a faint smile on his face before speaking in a calming tone.

  "Don't forget that we're here to help you."

  Zavi turned his head. His blue eyes briefly sparkled as he looked at Feyne and Luke smiling at him—who had seemed resigned moments ago but now shone again after seeing him.

  He gave a slight smile. "Yes, I understand," he replied, his mind already clearing as he planned the next move.

  Albert took a silver revolver from inside his coat and handed it to Zavi.

  Zavi accepted the revolver carefully. "Thank you. It's as if you can read my mind right now, knowing that I've run out of bullets."

  He opened the cylinder, aligning it with his eyes before closing it again.

  Albert chuckled softly, as if they weren't surrounded by enemies.

  'But somehow… it feels like I'm already used to using this. As if when I was on Earth, I handled it myself—yet without any clear memory,' Zavi thought in confusion.

  The street suddenly fell silent. Only the night wind swept through the narrow road, mixing with the breathing and heartbeats of everyone present.

  But the silence was shattered by a flash of light. A swift shadow passed along the left side. The five robed figures on the roof were forced to jump down in shock.

  "Huh? So fast… What was that?" one of them muttered before his feet fully touched the ground.

  Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap...

  The five robed figures lined up on the left side of the alley, staring at a blue-eyed man with straight, slightly wavy hair now standing before them.

  "That strange creature has already disappeared," he said. "And it gives me chills when I see it. I know you're the one who sent it to me, Lucian… Alistair."

  'Huh, luckily it already vanished. And since when was I afraid of that thing?' he wondered in confusion.

  Karl wiped his sweat with a soft cloth before slipping it back into his coat pocket. He adjusted his gaze and stared at his former comrade for several seconds with a sharp look, smiling with admiration.

  Admiration toward Lucian for carrying out the order he had once given when they were still fellow members of the Finiscya sect.

  Lucian, who stood in the middle, slowly lowered his hood and tossed it behind him, revealing himself wearing a classic suit—jacket, trousers, combined with a black vest and leather boots.

  "It's been a long time. Are you doing wel—"

  The sentence stopped.

  Lucian's vision suddenly trembled. Karl's face before him shifted left and right, splitting into two. The world spun without direction.

  He fell to his knees, his brows deeply furrowed. He didn't even realize that his sight and hearing had vanished, trapped within an illusion.

  Lucian was not the only one affected. His companions felt the same, including the five people still on the roof who then fell after being caught in the illusion as well.

  The vision of the ten robed figures collapsed simultaneously.

  Sound disappeared first. Absolute silence, as if the world were buried deep beneath water. Then their vision faded, colors and shapes peeling away from reality.

  But the darkness was not empty.

  Behind their eyes, shadows began to form.

  They were never whole. Distorted, elongated, moving without a source of light. Those silhouettes stood far too close, as if breathing against the backs of their necks. Some crawled along the walls, some hung upside down in the air, while others simply stood still… watching.

  Karl and the others saw nothing except the robed figures staggering and losing their balance, trying to find a way out using only what they could feel.

  But for the ten robed figures, those shadows were real. Existing somewhere between the subconscious and the real world, showing events they should no longer remember, along with other things capable of wounding the mind and the heart.

  They saw hands reaching from the edge of their vision where nothing should exist anymore. Dark mouths opened without sound. Faded faces drew close, then drifted away, only to appear again elsewhere.

  Some of them screamed, yet no sound came out. Others collapsed to the ground, covering their faces with trembling hands, as if that could drive away something untouchable.

  The illusion did not show death. It showed something waiting.

  And as long as Karl remained standing, those shadows would not leave.

  A few seconds after all ten were completely trapped, blood began to flow from the mouth of the false Karl. His vision swayed, and every breath felt like his chest was being forcefully pumped with pain, as if it would explode from within.

  He wanted to scream, but his mouth was tightly shut.

  His body had already surpassed its limits, yet he forced himself to endure long enough to drag the robed figures deeper into the timeless illusion stripping them of their two most important senses in the real world so they could no longer endanger others.

  As the illusion's effect began to weaken, the ten robed figures stared at Karl with strained expressions. Not anger, but bodies trembling in fear.

  Seeing the opening, Albert finally took out the five talismans he had been holding and threw them. Each talisman bound two robed figures.

  It could be said that Albert was obsessed with supernatural matters, or more precisely, he wanted to find meaning behind the deaths of people and the collapse of morality. Because of that, he and his two companions always carried various talismans as preventive measures.

  Such as a sleep talisman that made someone fall into a deep slumber within an endless dream, a talisman capable of transporting someone with the condition of two sheets of paper, one carried and one placed at the destination, and various other talismans no less useful.

  In this world standing on the brink of crisis, there existed eight continents, each with great and small kingdoms, provinces, counties, cities, villages, mountains, forests, rivers, valleys, languages, and its own politics. One of those continents worshiped eight gods and goddesses believed to have their respective duties to protect the world from above.

  The ten robed figures vanished from where they stood, transferred to the locations of the other talismans far on the outskirts of Moran right beneath a steam train bridge, on the border of Moran Minehold in the southeast.

  A few seconds later, Karl's body grew extremely weak and his consciousness began to fade. Before his body collapsed onto the cold stone road still damp from the earlier rain, Zavi caught him in his arms.

  "You always push yourself too hard. Turns out your scenario wasn't bad either," Zavi said with a warm smile.