Hearing Zorn's kind reminder.
The well-mannered young man hurriedly picked up his own eyeball and tried to stuff it back into its socket.
But no matter how he tried to push it in, the eyeball would just roll out and fall back into his hat.
At the same time, large patches of skin on his cheeks began to peel off, exposing some of the muscles underneath. Fleshy buds sprouted rapidly across his face, swaying in the air.
A horrifying distortion was writhing into existence.
"Oh! My apologies."
The well-mannered young man's voice was starting to grow hoarse.
"I don't seem to be able to put it back in."
He looked up. One eye was normal and clear, while the other was a bloody socket gushing like a spring.
In just that short time, blood had already pooled across the carriage floor.
At some point, a bloody veil had formed over the carriage's glass windows.
The terrible, distorting Spiritual power was corrupting and reinforcing the carriage.
Zorn, however, watched this bizarre and grotesque scene with calm and natural scrutiny.
He sniffed the bloody scent filling the air.
He truly missed this feeling.
'Being chased by the Confused through the gray fog until I forgot my own name.'
'Bathing in a Witch's cauldron, melting, being drunk by her, only to climb back out of the Gate of Life and greet her again.'
'Lying on an evil Flesh Alchemist's operating table, watching myself be dissected, and telling him his technique wasn't refined enough—that he had to cut this way, then that way, to perfectly remove my heart.'
These were all wonderful memories Zorn could never forget, solid footprints on his path of growth.
'If you haven't had an all-night chat with a Confused in a carriage, you can't even call yourself a fearsome Calamity Evil Spirit.'
"If you'd like, I can help you put that eyeball back in."
Zorn spread his hands, showing how eager he was to help.
"Thank you, kind sir, but I don't think I'll need it."
The young man, sinking ever deeper into his distortion, refused Zorn's help, his voice growing even hoarser.
"I almost forgot. I still don't know your name."
The distorted young man said.
'Here came the critical test from the Confused.'
Every Confused asks for the name of the kind person they meet.
If you tell them your name...
...then congratulations, your name will become their name.
The old Confused will use your name as sustenance, growing a little stronger.
At the same time, the unlucky soul who lost their name will be officially corrupted, and a brand-new "Confused" will be born.
Then, the new Confused will continue to seek new names.
And with every name acquired, the terrifying, sealed Upper Ranker behind the Confused will grow stronger.
Until He devours all of Ogrande City.
If you don't follow the right procedure, you might enrage the Confused.
This would cause it to distort, rampage, and lead to a bloody massacre.
Judging by its appearance, the Confused before him was probably newly born.
'It doesn't seem very strong.'
If a fight broke out, this Confused would probably be the one getting its face ground into the carriage floor.
In any case, as the two of them sat there, Zorn wasn't flustered at all.
As for whether the other guy was panicking, that wasn't Zorn's problem.
Besides... panicking would be useless.
Once it got into Zorn's carriage, what happened next was no longer up to this unlucky Confused.
"I think you should tell me your name first. That's the gentlemanly thing to do."
Zorn leaned back slightly, speaking in a relaxed posture.
'It's a long journey. With a Confused in the carriage, at least I won't be bored.'
"My... My... name!"
The young Confused's facial muscles began to contort as if it were trying to remember.
"I seem to have forgotten my name."
It looked up, its face growing more ferocious.
Zorn noticed its teeth were growing sharper, all the better for tearing and swallowing flesh.
"Oh? Leaving the house without your name? That's not a very good habit."
Zorn said with a sigh.
"I was once like you. I didn't just leave my name at home; I left my head there too."
"That day, the entire town ended up chasing me, this Headless Knight."
"What a rude bunch of people. I had no choice but to reluctantly wipe out the whole town."
"Your deeds are truly admirable."
The young man sneered.
"However, I'm a bit hungry now. Very hungry."
"Sir, would you be willing to share dinner with me?"
By now, viscous blood filled the entire carriage. The small coach had become a cage of flesh and blood.
The terrible power of distortion seemed to have fully formed.
The rich, gory scent of blood was almost intoxicating to Zorn.
The Confused now revealed its greed and madness, baring claws and fangs, ready to enjoy this wonderful dinner.
Zorn, however, flexed his clay-pot-sized fists and flashed a cruel, wicked smile.
He opened his hand, violently tore off a piece of writhing flesh clinging to the carriage window, and with lightning speed, stuffed it directly into the Confused's gaping, fanged mouth.
A vicious right uppercut snapped its mouth shut and sent it flying, its head slamming into the carriage roof with a loud THUD.
Then Zorn let loose with both fists. It was time for the Strong-Handed Skull Splitter.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Every blow was a heart-stopping impact.
Zorn was unleashing his "Skull-Splitting Fist" with relish.
After all this time of daily Ascetic Practice, Zorn had long since mastered the Skull-Splitting Fist.
And now, it was time to test it in real combat.
Block, grapple, counter, punch, suppress, headshot, strike weak points...
His masterful and refined attacks seemed slow, yet each blow sent the Confused spiraling deeper into its own state of confusion.
Facing a seasoned old veteran like Zorn, this fresh and naive "Confused" was as helpless as a child.
While brutally beating this "Confused" that had intended to bring him Calamity and Death...
Zorn quipped.
"I can see you're very hungry. Give me twenty minutes, and I can stuff this entire carriage down your throat."
The Confused's face was stiff, its head like a ball of dough being hammered back and forth by Zorn's fists.
The bizarre, Spiritual curtain of flesh was continuously torn down by Zorn's hands, which were wreathed in "Star Trace Gang Qi."
Mere brute force was not enough to counter Spiritual flesh.
But a Fighting Master's "Gang Qi" had properties that could combat the Spiritual.
'You're going to swallow everything you've spat out.'
'What? You don't want to eat?'
'That's not up to you anymore.'
Even though the Confused struggled relentlessly, letting out bizarre howls from time to time...
...unfortunately for it, it was facing Zorn Corick, a seasoned veteran, the leader of the terrifying Evil Gods.
Just as Zorn pinned the Confused to the seat, about to smash its skull...
...the moving carriage screeched to a halt.
A silvery-white light, carrying a hint of order and brilliance, pierced through the window glass and shone into the carriage.
The bizarre curtain of flesh seemed to fear the silvery-white brilliance outside, receding slightly.
It even... shied away to a certain extent.
TSSSSS...
The bloody mist in the air hissed and gave off the scorched smell of burning.
Zorn paused for a moment, then withdrew his hands.
The light of order had appeared, so there was no need for him to continue.
"Good afternoon, Officer."
The coachman's slightly stiff voice rang out.
"Damn, it's so cold in this gray fog!"
The coachman couldn't help but wrap his clothes tighter around himself.
Standing in the gray fog, keeping a certain distance from the carriage, the Law Enforcer Ansel Hall, who was holding a Silver Glow Lantern, loosened his tie.
His eyes were as sharp as a falcon's, fixed on the carriage, not missing a single detail.
He had already confirmed that the carriage before him was completely corrupted.
This made him frown slightly.
Just a few days ago, he had handled a similar case.
That unlucky passenger had been eaten by a Confused, with only the lower half of his body left.
Although he had dealt with that Confused bastard, when the heart-wrenching wails of the poor, middle-aged woman—her face weary and gaunt, with two half-grown children in tow—rang out in the funeral home...
...he had stood under the eaves of the funeral home, his legs feeling as if they were filled with lead, too heavy to move an inch.
Another shattered family.
Another irreversible tragedy.
Just like that pale afternoon when his mother had cried until she fainted, the day his father left them forever.
And that damn criminal was still at large.
"Sir in the carriage, I'm Officer Ansel. Please step out for an inspection."
As he said this, Ansel had already raised his Silver Glow Lantern and taken out his baton.
The lantern oil, with its purifying and dispelling effects, could sear the damn Confused and illuminate his surroundings so he wouldn't get lost in the gray fog.
And the baton would let him give that bastard a thorough beating.
CREAK.
The carriage door opened.
And a scene that horrified Ansel appeared before his eyes.