CLANG!
Gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain deep in his soul, Clyde Joshua, the Arsonist, slammed the heavy, steel-reinforced door shut and threw the safety bolt.
"That damn Caster!"
He cursed through clenched teeth as he started to strip off his soaking wet clothes.
It was pouring rain today, but that very rain had helped him cover his tracks more effectively.
He had also used a portion of Secret Dust, which cost him 12 gold pounds.
It was a useful item purchased from the Transcendent black market, capable of more effectively masking one's aura.
'The heavy rain plus the Secret Dust should be enough to throw off that damn Caster,' he believed.
After changing into dry clothes, Clyde Joshua collapsed onto the sofa in the safe house, utterly exhausted.
HUFF... HUFF...
With every breath, a sharp pain lanced through his soul.
The injuries to his body, the exhaustion of his soul, and the side effects of that potent potion made him drowsy.
As he drifted into a haze, Clyde Joshua had a terrible dream.
In the dream, that terrifying, Demon-like man had somehow found his safe house.
The man stood outside the door, performing some bizarre ritual with a candle.
Then, to his horror, he saw himself rise uncontrollably, undo the safety bolt, and pull open the steel-reinforced door.
That terrifying, Demon-like man... he came in!
At that moment, Clyde Joshua jolted awake from the nightmare.
GASP...
Awake, he glanced at the safe house's steel-reinforced door not far away.
'Thank God, the door is shut!'
'It was just a nightmare. That terrifying guy didn't follow me here.'
Feeling a little relieved, he tried to get up to find something to eat.
But in the next moment, he was scared witless. His body trembled slightly, and his face turned a ghastly, deathly white.
The terrible nightmare had just bled into reality!
A massive, silvery-white snake was coiled tightly around him.
And that Demon-like Caster was sitting in the sofa directly across from him.
He was even holding a refined copy of *Rise of the Saintisman Empire*, reading it intently.
"Oh? You're awake."
Zorn looked up, a cold smile touching the corners of his lips as he gazed at the Mafia Boss before him.
That smile was like a Demon's hand, squeezing Clyde Joshua's heart so tightly he could barely breathe.
Zorn closed the book. He sat up a little straighter, looking at the restrained Mafia Boss, Clyde Joshua.
When he had used the ritual to drain the Arsonist's Spiritual power and guide him to open the door, Zorn had used Evil Spirit Authority on him for a second time.
It was a deep, penetrating reshaping—a reshaping meant to shatter the target's Spiritual Defense.
'Still, he is a Level Two Arsonist and extremely vigilant. The effect was present, but not ideal.'
'Now, it's time for the third use.'
As Zorn used Evil Spirit Authority once again, Clyde Joshua, already restrained and unable to struggle, found his will to resist on a psychological level weakening significantly.
This third use of Evil Spirit Authority was particularly effective.
His last-ditch resistance gradually faded into dejection, and his face grew stiff, twitching unconsciously.
Seeing this, Zorn rubbed the bridge of his nose.
'Forcibly and deeply reshaping the target's Sequence Spirituality, changing—or rather, distorting—their soul and will... this method is certainly powerful, but it has its downsides. It can easily lead to losing control of one's Sequence and to mutation.'
"Who is your patron?"
Zorn got straight to the point.
Clyde Joshua's body trembled. He twisted his head bizarrely from side to side, as if resisting Zorn's question.
"Tell me who your patron is, and I might give you a chance to survive."
Zorn attempted to weaken the man's psychological defenses with his words.
'People always cling to wishful thinking.'
Sure enough, upon hearing Zorn's words, Clyde Joshua spoke, his voice rough and hoarse.
"It's... Viscount Brin!"
'Viscount Brin?'
With this key piece of information filled in, the web of information in Zorn's mind cleared, as if a great fog had been lifted.
'The Homer Mafia is just the surface power. Their backer, their patron, Viscount Brin, is the key to this whole case.'
Viscount Brin, a nobleman skilled in smuggling and dealing with the Esoteric Sects, possessed a considerable family fortune.
He was, by all accounts, a resourceful nobleman.
"Under Viscount Brin's protection, what sorts of things do you primarily smuggle?"
Zorn's question made Clyde Joshua raise his stiff neck to look at him.
'Clearly, Zorn knows more than I thought.'
After a moment, Clyde Joshua finally spoke.
"It's 'Blooddel Natives' from the ocean, and Blood Patterned Reef Stone, which is obtained by sacrificing marine resources."
'So that's it,' Zorn thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose upon hearing the answer.
Zorn had come to understand recently that the tide of steam was progressing even faster than he had imagined.
Those Esoteric Sects had already begun to expand their power wantonly in the depths of the ocean.
They had even formed a dark chain of commercial interests.
They would take natives and Spiritual sea creatures from the unregulated regions of the deep ocean, perform blood sacrifices, and obtain a special sacrificial resource: Blood Patterned Reef Stone.
Then, they would smuggle it into inland cities, earning a considerable amount of gold pounds, and use that money to continue expanding their influence in the deep sea.
Once those Esoteric Sects grew powerful enough, his fellow Boss-level Evil Spirits who served the Evil God Esoteric Sects would also grow stronger.
They might even turn around and devour Zorn himself.
And that was precisely what Zorn did not want to see happen.
"Which Esoteric Sect is trading with Viscount Brin?"
Zorn asked, his thoughts racing.
This time, Clyde the Arsonist didn't hesitate. He simply shook his head.
"Viscount Brin has us place the resources in the warehouse every time."
"The other party will then come and take the sacrificial items."
"I'm only responsible for transporting the goods and ensuring their safety. I don't need to ask about anything else."
Zorn wasn't surprised by this answer.
'Those Esoteric Sects are called 'esoteric' for a reason. Naturally, they act with extreme caution.'
'In different versions, the map of Ogrande City is different, so the Esoteric Sect strongholds are naturally not fixed.'
'The Esoteric Sect that Viscount Brin is cooperating with won't be a fixed entity; he might even be working with more than one.'
However, Viscount Brin had used the gang to seize control of the Grino Pier Transport Company, which severely damaged Zorn's interests.
Not only did Zorn intend to take back what was his, but he would also make them pay a terrible price. More importantly, he would use this to strike a blow against those Evil God Organizations and suppress his fellow Bosses.
Rubbing his fingers together, Zorn lowered his voice and asked,
"You must have collected and stored a good deal of criminal evidence on Viscount Brin, haven't you?"
Clyde the Arsonist's body trembled.
"Yes!"
he responded stiffly.
'Mafia Bosses like him who've reached this position obviously have a certain understanding of how things work.'
'They're afraid that one day their patrons will throw them out as scapegoats.'
'They have to hold enough incriminating evidence on their patrons to have leverage at a critical moment.'
"Where is it?"
"In a secret compartment in the bookshelf behind you."
Hearing this, Zorn couldn't help but laugh.
'These Mafia Bosses all have the same personality.'
'They're ruthless to others, and just as ruthless to their own people.'
'If you try to burn them, they'll take you down with them.'
"I'm guessing your accumulated wealth is in there as well, right?"
"Yes!"
His voice grew even more hoarse and low.
At the same time, a pungent smoke began to drift from his body, and the smell of something burning started to spread.
The mention of his wealth seemed to have touched the Arsonist's sore spot.
He was losing control, mutating and sliding into an irreversible Abyss.
COUGH COUGH...
He coughed heavily, spewing black tar mixed with sparks from his mouth.
'I've gotten most of the information I need.'
Zorn asked one last question.
"Is there a stockpile of Blood Patterned Reef Stone at the docks ready for a trade? Where is it being stored, specifically?"
"Ugh... urgh..."
A low, bestial roar came from the Arsonist Clyde's throat.
His body was heating up, like a piece of charcoal about to ignite.
As he writhed and struggled, he spoke in a low voice, revealing the information about the important resources at the docks.
Listening to his account, Zorn felt a faint surge of pleasant surprise.
A sacrificial resource like Blood Patterned Reef Stone wasn't very useful to ordinary Transcendents.
But for an Evil Spirit Wizard, its effects were outstanding.
Zorn had come here to cause trouble for the Docks Gang for two reasons.
One was to take back what belonged to him, and while he was at it, report the nobleman who had provoked him.
The other was to see if his luck was good enough to find any smuggled resources in the Docks Gang's possession.
It now seemed his luck was quite good.
Not only were there smuggled goods in the warehouse controlled by the Homer Mafia, but it also seemed to be a considerable quantity.
Once he had finished speaking,
WHOOSH...
Clyde the Arsonist erupted in a turbulent, scorching blaze of rabid flames.
The Arsonist had completely lost control.
At the same time, Zorn unleashed his prepared Evil Spirit Authority, ramming it deep into the man's spirit.
SHHIIIIING—
It was as if the blade of Death itself had been plunged into the depths of his soul.
The raging flames instantly seemed to lose their core. Though they burned furiously, they did not radiate outward uncontrollably.
Evil Spirit Authority could reshape Spirituality, but it also possessed the Ability to destroy Extraordinary Spirituality.
Meanwhile, the flame-retardant, twin-ringed serpent swiftly dragged him into the fireplace on the side of the room.
CRACKLE...
The fire in the hearth, fed with a Transcendent as kindling, roared to life.
Using the light from the fireplace, Zorn opened the secret compartment behind the bookshelf.
It was time to count his spoils.