Watching the rest of his comrades collapse like lifeless puppets onto the ground, the last remaining cultist's face paled with terror behind his cloth mask. He began to take slow, trembling steps backward. But when fear reaches its limit, it turns into pure desperation.
He touched his covered face with his fingers, took a sharp breath, and clenched his fist tight.
In the next instant, he whipped out a dozen daggers from beneath his heavy robes and hurled them through the air toward Leo and the others.
Snap!
The cultist snapped his fingers, and the daggers exploded mid-air one after the other in a chain reaction of fire and debris. Through the thick smoke, he threw one final dagger directly upward. Leo didn't waste a single second; he swung his sword with perfect precision, deflecting the incoming blade. The deflected dagger flew straight through the window of Anthony's room.
Snap!
The cultist snapped his fingers again. Inside the room, a violent explosion erupted. The curtains and clothes instantly caught fire. Within moments, the blaze grew so intense that wild tongues of flame began licking out of the window.
Standing below, Chris, Leo, and Ray looked up, the harsh red glow of the fire illuminating their faces. Suddenly, a terrible realization hit Leo, and he screamed at the top of his lungs—"ANTHONY!"
Right on cue, a figure leapt through the roaring flames of the window and crashed onto the ground. It was Anthony. Clutching his right hand with his left, he groaned in excruciating pain—his right palm was severely burned.
Just then, the massive front gate of Anthony's mansion swung open. Felix and his mother, Naomi Ward, stumbled out. Naomi's face was twisted in sheer horror and panic. Barely clinging to consciousness, she stammered, "What... what is happening here?!"
Felix held his frail mother tightly, trying his best to support her weight, though his own eyes leaked terrified confusion. Seeing this, Chris, Leo, and Ray instantly realized that the final phase of their plan had been completely ruined—Naomi had witnessed everything.
Enraged, Leo glared back at the cultist. In the blink of an eye, he vanished and reappeared directly behind the masked man. Leo's sword flashed in a swift strike. The cut wasn't deep enough to kill, but the cultist clutched his bleeding neck and collapsed to the ground, howling in pain.
Anthony rushed frantically toward his wife and caught her in his arms. Naomi Ward, already physically fragile, lost consciousness right there and slumped over. Leo and Ray ran over to help them, but when Leo glanced back over his shoulder, the wounded cultist was gone. The ground where he had fallen was empty.
Seeing Naomi pass out, Anthony didn't waste a moment. He hoisted her onto his back and began sprinting forward. As he fled, he shouted back desperately over his shoulder, "Chris! Please look after Felix! Please!"
Chris immediately turned to Ray. "Go, Ray! Protect Anthony and his wife!"
Without a word, Ray bolted after Anthony, with Felix hot on his heels. Within seconds, the three of them vanished into the pitch-black shadows beyond the mansion gates.
Only Chris and Leo were left standing in front of the burning estate. Chris took a heavy, exhausted breath and muttered, "The last part of our plan is completely ruined, Leo."
"Maybe not," Leo replied thoughtfully. "That cultist saw Felix's mother's critical state. Even if he runs back and reports to his Master, they won't know for sure whether Naomi survives or dies."
Chris shook his head grimly. "True, but our main goal was to convince the cultists that Naomi Ward is already dead. That way, they would think the main part of their ritual is gone and back off."
"Listen to me, Chris," Leo said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We can still pull this off. It's not like that cultist knows where Naomi is being taken. We just have to keep her safe until tomorrow's full moon passes."
A glimmer of hope returned to Chris's face. "Yeah... the plan can still work."
Suddenly, something clicked in Leo's brain. He turned to Chris, staring at him with a look of profound disappointment.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Chris asked, defensive.
"Weren't we supposed to keep an eye on that cultist so he could lead us straight to their base?" Leo asked, his voice dripping with irritation. "You just let him walk away!"
Chris smirked faintly. "I already sent a clone made of smoke to tail him before he even got up."
Just as Chris finished his sentence, another massive explosion rocked the mansion behind them. The fire had completely engulfed the structure. Both of them turned around to look at the raging inferno.
"Oh, right... I forgot this house was on fire," Leo said flatly. "What should we do now?"
"I have no idea," Chris replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"What kind of a Captain are you?" Leo scowled.
"I'm a Captain, not a God! I don't have a magical solution for everything!" Chris snapped back. He pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat. "It's already 3:30 AM. I have no idea how time flew by so fast."
Leo looked up at the dark sky. "Helen should be delivering that tip-off letter anytime now."
At that exact moment, on another dark, desolate street across the city, Helen was walking briskly. The only souls out at this hour were a few beggars huddled on the curbside. The dim, flickering glow of old gas streetlamps was the only defense against the oppressive darkness.
Helen's face was obscured by a cloth wrap. She wore a long, grey overcoat to conceal her body and a leather hat pulled low over her eyes, making her practically invisible in the shadows. Tucked safely inside her coat pocket was a folded letter.
She stopped in front of a looming, imposing building. The main iron gate was securely locked from the inside. The entire building was shrouded in darkness, save for a single guard shack near the entrance where a lone watchman sat under a dim bulb. Helen peered through the iron bars; there was no one else in sight.
Moving like a ghost, she reached through and slipped the folded letter into the slot of a red steel drop-box mounted just inside the gate. With her mission accomplished, she turned on her heel and melted back into the night without looking back.
Meanwhile, Anthony was still running. Carrying Naomi on his back had pushed his body to its absolute physical limits, but his legs refused to stop. Behind him, Ray and Felix were running completely out of breath.
Ray glanced back at the boy while maintaining his pace. "You shouldn't have come here, Felix!"
Felix panted heavily, his jaw set in stubborn determination. "She is my mother! It is my duty to protect her. I could never leave her in this condition!"
Finally, Anthony skidded to a halt in front of a large, three-story apartment building. The three of them rushed inside, taking the stairs two at a time until they reached the door of Room No. 514. Anthony began pounding on the wooden door with frantic force.
The loud, echoing bangs caused neighbors from adjoining apartments to crack their doors open, peeking out in curiosity and fear.
Moments later, the door to Room 514 swung open. An elderly man stepped out—he had a long white beard, a bald head, deeply wrinkled skin, and wore a pair of round spectacles. Standing right behind him was a middle-aged woman, also wearing glasses, her hair a striking silver-white.
"Doctor Hench! Please... my wife is in critical condition. Please save her!" Anthony begged, tears streaming down his face.
Dr. Hench took one look at Naomi's pale, unconscious form and immediately stepped aside. "Get her inside, now!"
The apartment wasn't spacious; it was a modest, ordinary setup. Mrs. Hench pointed toward a side door. "Lay her down on the bed in that room." Anthony obeyed instantly. She then turned to the rest of them, her voice firm. "Everyone else, out."
Ray, Felix, and Anthony retreated to the small living area outside. Anthony collapsed onto a wooden chair, his legs shaking uncontrollably from a mix of exhaustion and terror.
Dr. Hench stepped out of the bedroom, his expression incredibly grave. "Anthony... the baby is coming. And your wife's current physical state is severely compromised."
Hearing this, Anthony completely broke down, tears spilling from his eyes. He reached out, grabbing Dr. Hench's hands in a desperate grip. "Please, Doctor... I beg of you, save my wife."
Watching his father shatter into pieces like this, Felix felt his own chest tighten. His heart sank into his stomach.
Dr. Hench placed a heavy hand on Anthony's trembling shoulder and spoke with brutal honesty. "Anthony, I won't lie to you. Your wife is in terrible shape, and on top of that, this baby is premature—born at just 36 weeks. I'm going to give it to you straight... your child's chances of survival are currently at just 75 percent."