After finishing lunch, Charlot Mecklenburg happily clocked off work.
The streets of Strasbourg, freshly soaked by rain, were terribly muddy. After all, this wasn’t Earth, and even the imperial palace didn’t have completely paved roads, let alone the streets! Such conditions were far from ideal for a date, especially since Miss Annie Bretagne was a noblewoman who couldn’t stand the dirt underfoot.
Charlot planned to go straight home and continue studying his diary.
The excitement of buying his carriage had long since faded. On his way back to 58 Elysée Avenue, he no longer admired the scenery but instead shut his eyes for a brief nap.
Suddenly, the Blood Vortex at Charlot’s brow throbbed violently, and Eye of Insight activated automatically. He “saw” a familiar, corpulent figure just a few dozen steps away. The figure was squeezed into an oversized, slightly tattered military uniform, face contorted in rage. Left arm raised horizontally to support the right, where a Thunderclap Gun was poised, aimed precisely at Charlot.
“Damn it!”
“Magru Trell? How did he get out?”
The former warden of Kilmainham Prison was supposed to be locked up, not moonlighting as an assassin here.
Charlot didn’t have time to think further. He flung the carriage door open, hooked onto its edge, and, like a cat, flipped skillfully onto the carriage roof.
From within his Battlefield Cane, he drew out the Anti-Space Long-Range Rifle, discarding the cane while using his foot to stabilize it, ensuring he didn’t fall off. Dropping to one knee, he adopted a perfect shooting stance, loaded an Anti-magic Armor-piercing Round, and—thanks to the Swiftstep Technique he’d newly mastered yesterday—completed the entire process in just a second. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger!
Though Magru Trell had set the ambush, Charlot, with the warning of Eye of Insight and his Swiftstep Technique, fired first, his speed tripled beyond the average.
He didn’t bother with his Magnum Mauler or Alchemical Pistol. After all, the former warden was a seventh-rank Knight, having reached the threshold of mid-level Transcendents. Ordinary bullets would struggle to break through his battle energy defenses.
The Anti-magic Armor-piercing Round streaked forward like divine fire, slamming into Magru Trell. Charlot, though better suited for close combat, proved reliable enough with a gun, blowing half of Magru Trell’s torso apart with a single shot.
From the waist down, Magru Trell’s body was shredded by the bullet. Yet, he writhed briefly on the ground before struggling back to his feet. His face showed no trace of pain—only a hideous grin. He bellowed, “You destroyed my family! You’ll die with me in hell!”
Charlot couldn’t help but retort, “I didn’t plunder your estate!”
True, he’d taken some money, but he hadn’t forced Magru Trell to cough up his “ill-gotten gains.”
In fact, he still didn’t know who had orchestrated it all. Kilmainham Prison was full of Prison Army troops, any of whom could have been involved in the extortion…
Charlot muttered under his breath, “Why isn’t this guy dead yet? Half his body’s gone!”
“Don’t tell me he summoned an Evil God too?”
The mere thought of Evil Gods sent a chill down Charlot’s spine. After all, he still had two Evil God-related “buffs” hanging ominously over his head.
He was about to deliver another shot to finish the former warden.
A man still alive with half his body missing was simply too horrifying. While the life essence of a seventh-rank Transcendent Knight was incredibly tempting, Charlot wasn’t foolish enough to use his Vampire Weapons for this battle. Ranged combat was the safer option.
Sensing danger, Magru Trell’s body suddenly erupted with countless flesh tendrils. The tendrils latched onto the ground, propelling him forward with a leap, closing the distance between them at terrifying speed.
Charlot tried aiming at him three times but couldn’t lock on. Admitting defeat, he hooked the Battlefield Cane with his foot, stowed the Anti-Space Long-Range Rifle back inside, and hurled the Vampiric Axe.
Guided by Bloodflame Aura, the Vampiric Axe traced bizarre arcs in the air, intercepting Magru Trell three times. However, each strike was repelled by some strange force emanating from Trell.
Magru Trell’s flesh tendrils quickly transformed into eight slender legs, turning him into a grotesque half-human, half-spider monster. His speed multiplied, far exceeding that of an ordinary human.
Worried that their fight might injure Mrs. Yanmills or innocent bystanders, Charlot leaped onto the rooftop of a nearby building.
Magru Trell pursued him relentlessly, even running vertically up the walls.
The two exchanged blows as they chased each other across rooftops. Mrs. Yanmills, far from panicked, calmly touched the military pistol hidden at her chest but ultimately abandoned the idea of joining the fight. Sighing softly, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Mr. Mecklenburg. I have a child.”
Charlot’s mastery of the Swiftstep Technique was still shallow, and Magru Trell quickly closed the gap. The former warden raised his Thunderclap Gun and fired eight consecutive shots.
The Thunderclap Gun, though larger than the Magnum Mauler, had a much smaller magazine to preserve its firepower—holding only eight rounds.
Charlot returned fire with his Magnum Mauler, but the standard bullets barely scratched Magru Trell, bouncing off his bizarre defenses.
The Alchemical Pistol, while more refined, boasted slightly better range, speed, and accuracy, but its firepower was similarly insufficient. Charlot dismissed it outright, holstering the Magnum Mauler and preparing to fight with Blood Rose.
Magru Trell, having emptied his Thunderclap Gun, retrieved a box of custom bullets from his coat. Grinning ferociously, he began reloading.
Charlot muttered irritably, “I’m a non-combat civil servant—why am I forced into a street brawl?”
Though the City Patrol Guards weren’t frontline troops, they were still part of the Empire’s military structure, serving as specialists in urban warfare and expendable cannon fodder. Charlot, as their chief civil overseer, didn’t technically belong to the combat ranks.
Magru Trell unloaded eighteen more rounds before Charlot belatedly realized, “This bastard has a Spatial Magazine!”
“Otherwise, how could he carry so many bullets?”
Initially, Charlot had hoped to whittle down Magru Trell’s strength through guerilla tactics. Being a graduate of Sheffield University, he’d already deduced the source of Trell’s combat power: Cursed Armament.
This was a product of classical alchemy rooted in the Kabbalah magical system. If Protagoras was a philosopher among philosophers, Kabbalah was the philosopher of philosophers, the founder of an entire field of study.
A follower of the Lamp Bearer, Kabbalah had delved deep into the Dead Sea Parchment to establish a magical system bearing his name and to pioneer classical alchemy—a masterpiece that culminated in Cursed Armament, the highest expression of self-alchemy.