Chapter 106: Supreme, Voodoo
As the setting sun gradually sank below the canopy of the birch forest, the last bit of afterglow was swallowed by the treetops.
Only a shallow orange-red remained on the horizon, like washed-out paint, which would also soon disappear.
In front of the tavern in the small town, a black Lincoln slowly approached.
The car body was brand new, its paint polished and shiny, reflecting a cold luster under the dim sky. The tires rolled over the gravel, making a fine rustling sound before coming to a stop.
The car door opened.
A well-maintained middle-aged blonde woman stepped out of the car.
She closed the door, her gaze swept over the tavern's sign, and then she walked inside with a seemingly purposeful stride.
Behind her, the driver inside the car remained motionless.
Similarly, although the tavern was full of people, they were as silent as the dead, not moving an inch.
"Manipulating so many people's consciousness so recklessly—aren't you worried that Witch hunter will come knocking on your door?"
The woman walked to the bar and sat down, pulling a long, thin lady's cigarette from her bag and placing it between her lips. She lit it, and smoke curled up under the dim yellow light.
She spoke casually to the stylish Black woman sitting next to her.
The Black woman leaned against the bar and sneered.
"That old dog Calder from the Order of the Axe can't manage things that far away."
She paused, her eyes squinting as she looked the woman beside her up and down.
"And you, you hypocritical bitch, haven't you also controlled humans?"
"Your mouth is still as foul as your voodoo, Mary."
Fiona exhaled a puff of smoke, which drifted between the two of them.
"Are you here for a hookup? How many did you find?"
[Note: Both characters are from the third season of "Coven".]
Fiona Goode: Current Supreme Witch, omnipotent type, master of all Seven Wonders—Teleportation, Pyrokinesis, Telekinesis, Mind Control, Resurgence, Divination, and Descensum.
Marie Laveau: Voodoo Queen, Voodoo-type immortality + curses + ritual master, follower of the demon Papa Legba.]
"I thought you were back to pay respects to your great-great-great-ex-husband?" Mary countered unceremoniously.
"Everyone is here for that new Witch with immense potential, so stop pretending."
"I am the Supreme Witch; I have the duty to teach her and the right to take her away." Fiona raised her hand and gave it a light wave.
On the bar, a glass and a bottle of whiskey floated over.
"Hmph?" Mary laughed disdainfully.
She leaned in closer to Fiona.
"I thought you were afraid she might be the new Supreme destined to replace you?"
"When that time comes, you'll have to die, won't you?"
Fiona's hand gripping the cork paused for a moment. She remained expressionless, then pulled it out and poured the drink.
The amber liquid flowed into the glass with a faint splashing sound.
Mary narrowed her eyes, watching Fiona's reaction with a look that was somewhat meaningful.
"If you don't fight me for her, I won't fight you for the supernatural items appearing in other states during this Dark Seed blowout period," Fiona said.
Within the exclusive network of witches, they had also discovered the secondary events triggered by the descent of certain high-status Great Demons. They referred to this as the "Blowout Period."
Of course, they didn't dare face a Great Demon of that level directly, but they were bold enough to meddle in the secondary events, as the benefits were substantial.
The supernatural items or corpses left behind after these risky incidents were resolved were undoubtedly excellent supernatural resources.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
At this mention, Mary also got angry. Her brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth turned down, and her entire being radiated an aura of displeasure.
"The 'Irene' of this generation from the Vatican has already leveled those singularities. How am I supposed to get anything from her?"
"Fuck!" she cursed, picked up her glass, and took a large gulp.
"Every 'Irene' throughout history has been a well-rounded developer. Although they were strong, none were as suffocatingly powerful as this generation's. I don't even dare stay in one place for too long now, for fear she'll track me down."
"Because this era is too dangerous," Fiona said.
"In the past, humans couldn't fly in the sky like gods. The World's management of other dimensions was lax then."
"However, a representative of Heaven has appeared. What about Hell's?"
"Hell's..."
"When the time comes, I'll have to get close to them immediately. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I might even be able to say a few words on behalf of 'Papa'."
Mary spoke shamelessly. After all, survival was what mattered. Currently, that Angel vessel was still wandering through various states like a damn ghost.
But she wasn't afraid of ghosts; what she feared was the sudden flare of Holy Light and the White Fire.
"Then I wish you luck," Fiona said indifferently. She just wanted to live well; she didn't want anyone to mess with her, and she wouldn't mess with anyone else.
Mary's eyes flickered slightly, revealing a bit of her true emotions just to bridge the gap. Now that the atmosphere was right...
"I heard the Black Witch King Faction has been revived, right in New York," she said casually.
"I predicted a tall female blood shadow born from a pool of blood, witnessed by a pseudo-human that was nearly a real human body. Also in New York."
She wasn't stupid. Usually, when they met, they would fight, then bicker, and then walk away after looking at each other with distaste. Why would she suddenly chat so much?
She was likely afraid. Beings stronger than them were appearing one by one, and as it happened, she was afraid too.
New Orleans was far from New York, true, but if a complete Witch King truly started a slaughter, covering city after city with plague curses, it would only be a matter of time before it reached her doorstep.
Especially for those like them who also practiced magic; they would be the first to be discovered by the other party, and then they would either become subordinates or her magic blood bags.
She was indeed the Supreme Witch, but in reality, she was just good at surviving and had strong utility; she was still some distance away from being a Witch King.
Not to mention the sheer eeriness of the existences in her premonitions.
The things she saw in her premonitions were far more than what she had spoken aloud. She believed Mary's intelligence was also incomplete; both were keeping secrets from each other.
And both sincerely hoped these freakishly strong guys would fight each other and all end up dead.
The two looked at each other and fell silent for a moment.
"So... an alliance?" Fiona asked.
"Agreed," Mary answered decisively.
"But I won't give up this new Witch to you," she added.
Fiona had her selfish motives, and so did she. She also valued the girl's growth potential, but not to take her under her wing—she wanted to turn the girl into one of her Horcruxes as a life-saving measure.
"May the best woman win, then."
"Fine."
"I just hope nothing unexpected shows up."
Fiona spoke suddenly, an imperceptible ripple flashing through her eyes. She felt inexplicably uneasy.
But this state had been occurring frequently lately, and she couldn't put her finger on what this faint sense of dread was.
"Don't worry."
Mary was very confident, lifting her chin.
"With the two of us together, how many people in this World could possibly defeat us?"
"To be chosen by Hell as one of the main actors of a secondary event, this little Witch will definitely make the trip worthwhile."
She snapped her fingers.
Snap!
In the next second,
The tavern was like a machine that had suddenly had its 'play' button pressed.
Those motionless people came to life. Some blinked, some drank, some chatted; everything returned to normal as if they had never been controlled.
A waitress walked out from the kitchen carrying a tray. She walked to the bar, set the tray down, and subconsciously glanced at the clock on the wall.
"Strange, did the clock skip ahead?"
She muttered, her gaze shifting out the window.
Outside, night had completely fallen. The street was empty, with only a single streetlamp casting a dim yellow light.
A black Lincoln slowly drove away, its taillights fading into the distance in the night.
Chapter 107: Carrie the Witch
In the end, Green couldn't win against Wanda and was dragged to a less-than-authentic French restaurant. Of course, this was also thanks to a certain meddling magician fanning the flames.
By the time they finished their meal and arrived, the graduation prom was already nearing its end.
The venue was dimly lit, and the music had changed to a soothing slow rock. A few couples were still swaying on the dance floor, but most people had already dispersed to the sidelines, chatting in small groups.
On the awards stage, the host was building up the atmosphere.
Meanwhile, the three outsiders walked in as if no one else was there, leaning against a table and eating small cakes while watching the show.
"Tonight's best partners are—Carrie White and Tommy Ross!"
The crowd immediately erupted into enthusiastic cheers. In truth, they didn't really care who won; they were just caught up in the moment.
"Is it us?"
Carrie turned her head in surprise, looking at her male companion, and covered her mouth in disbelief.
"Of course. Let's go." He smiled and reached out his hand.
Carrie placed her hand in his palm, her fingers trembling slightly with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
Tommy took her arm and led her toward the podium.
As Carrie's high heels stepped onto the stairs, it felt as if she were walking on clouds—soft and spongy. Every step felt like she was about to float away.
She felt like she was in a dream, the kind where everything is beautiful yet nothing feels real.
Scanning the crowd below, she saw them clapping for her. Her heart felt suddenly full, almost to the point of aching.
She didn't notice Tommy giving a slight nod to his girlfriend near the entrance of the venue, who responded with a forced smile.
He had been brought by his girlfriend to help Carrie. To others, Carrie was a withdrawn girl, a non-conforming heretic, but the two girls were friends, and Tommy was happy to help.
At the back of the crowd, Magik wasn't looking at the pair on stage. She looked up at the iron stage framework above them.
"Do we need to stop it?"
Using magic, she could "see" a couple climbing up there, tying down an iron bucket filled with pig's blood. The drop point was exactly where Carrie was standing.
In other words, Carrie being named the best partner had been rigged.
Wanda noticed it too. A flash of pity crossed her eyes, and her brow furrowed slightly as she looked toward Green.
"Let them."
Green bit into a plum. In every action, he knew exactly what his goal was and what he needed. There was no need for useless pity.
On stage.
The spotlight hit the center, making that small area brilliantly bright.
Carrie stood in the light. The recognition she had never possessed before now surged toward her like a tide—the applause, the cheers, and the eyes that were finally looking at her.
She felt as if her whole being was glowing, melting away.
"This is all so wonderful," she whispered.
Beneath her trembling eyelashes, her eyes reflected the light. She turned her gaze to Tommy, her eyes filled with tenderness and affection.
"Thank you for inviting me tonight."
"No, no, it's you," Tommy smiled. His smile was sincere. "You always deserved better."
Carrie didn't respond; she just stared straight at Tommy.
Then, the bright red liquid poured down from the tilted iron bucket.
Splash—
It drenched her from head to toe.
"Gasp—!!"
In that instant, all the joy was extinguished.
It was like being strangled, like being thrown into an ice cellar, like the whole World had suddenly gone silent.
She stood there, frozen, as the liquid continued to drip down—along her hair, her face, her neck, flowing into her collar.
The stench of pig's blood filled her nose. It was cold, wet, and sticky on her arms, cheeks, and lips. The smell was so overpowering it made her want to gag.
The bright-colored dress she had saved up for so long now felt like a shackle, weighing heavily on her.
The fabric, soaked in pig's blood, clung to her skin, so cold it took her breath away.
The viscous red caused her constricted pupils to stare blankly into the distance.
Vaguely, she once again saw those three strange people.
They stood behind the crowd, in the shadows, far removed from the mocking faces around her—so far they seemed to be in another World.
They were watching her with profound looks in their eyes. It wasn't mockery, nor was it pity; it was something she didn't understand.
But then, a familiar laughter—louder than ever before—erupted from below the stage.
"Look who's up there! It's Bloody Mary!"
"God, she stinks."
"Look at her face! Boo-hoo, Mommy's here."
"Oh, right, I remember now! This bitch didn't even know what a period was! Hahaha!!"
"Her mom is a heretic! Of course the daughter that crazy woman raised is a heretic too!"
The mockery was far more sincere than the praise had been. This time it wasn't just the atmosphere... it was just too funny!!
The laughter of watching someone else make a fool of themselves was incredibly infectious.
It was sharp and piercing, like knives stabbing into her over and over.
She heard her name being twisted, trampled, and turned into a joke. The faces under the lights distorted like a pack of wild Beasts.
"He... help me..." Carrie spoke, her voice so small it was like she was talking to herself.
"Help me!"
"Help me!!"
She turned to look at Tommy.
He was stunned, standing there with a complex expression. Then his eyes turned determined, and he turned to the crowd and roared:
"That's enough! Do you think this is funny?!"
"Which bastard did this?! Only cowards hide in the dark to hurt people!!"
A glimmer of light appeared in Carrie's eyes, like a small candle flame in the dark, as if someone was finally on her side.
But in the next moment, the unsecured iron bucket fell from above and struck Tommy squarely on the back of the head.
The iron frame wasn't low—about seven or eight meters high. Under the acceleration of gravity, Carrie could clearly hear the sickening crack of Tommy's skull.
He fell forward, his hands flailing in the air, catching nothing, before hitting the floor and going silent.
He was dead.
It was as if fate was playing a cruel joke on her.
Yet the people were still laughing. They pointed at Carrieon the stage, doubling over with laughter, some even laughing until tears came out.
Some took out their phones to take pictures, some high-fived the person next to them, and others whistled and jeered.
They didn't notice Tommy's death at all.
He lay at Carrie's feet, a bloody hole smashed into the back of his head. Dark red blood surged from the wound, slowly spreading across the stage floor, staining a small patch of wood.
His eyes were still open, staring in some unknown direction, his pupils already dilated.
Only a few teachers realized something was wrong, pushing through the crowd and running toward the stage.
"Oh my God!"
Up on the rafters, the couple witnessed this scene.
The boy's face turned deathly pale, his lips turning blue. He froze for a few seconds before suddenly snapping out of it and grabbing the terrified girl.
"Let's go, let's go!"
He dragged the girl and began crawling back.
However, Carrie's gaze lifted toward them.
Hollow. Pitch black.
Contrasted against her blood-soaked body, those eyes looked like the eyes of a demoness.
There was no light, no warmth—only something deeper and darker surging up from within.
"I just wanted... to be truly happy, even if just for a moment."
The indifferent travelers, the mocking classmates, the dead boy she liked, and those fleeing from their guilt—
Bastards!!
In Carrie's mind, images flashed back repeatedly: being ignored, being bullied, being blamed.
To others, these were just trifles—a taunt, a roll of the eyes, a moment of exclusion.
But to her, they were repeated heavy blows to the soul.
The emotions with no outlet planted an evil seed within her. Now, nourished by resentment, it gradually condensed into a single thought:
[KILL]!!!
A voice was telling her that if she wanted to, she could do it!!
That voice surged up from the depths of her heart, rushed out from the suppressed corners, and crawled out from her crushed self-esteem.
It told her she could do it.
She could make them shut up. She could make them disappear. She could make them taste her pain.
Carrie raised her hand and made a grasping motion toward the iron rafters from a distance.
"Is she crazy?"
The boy saw her gesture and muttered with a hint of amusement, his eyes even carrying a trace of ridicule.
Once he fled the state, the state's laws wouldn't be able to touch him. Even if he were caught, he'd be fine; he was still a minor. At most, he'd be locked up for a few years, and he'd still have a good life when he got out.
What could she possibly do to him?
Boom!
The sudden sinking of the iron rafters shattered his thoughts.
The massive metal structure let out a dull, thunderous roar as screws flew off and rivets snapped. The entire frame shook violently.
"What's going on!" His eyes widened, the smile freezing on his face.
In the next moment, both sides of the iron frame were torn apart by an invisible telekinetic force.
Weld points burst, support rods snapped, and the entire frame was broken open like it was being pried apart by a giant hand. The horizontal beam they were lying on fell straight down.
"Ahhh—!!"
The girl screamed in terror as she fell along with the beam.
Carrie took a few steps back.
The iron frame hit the stage first, followed by the girl. She slammed into the frame, her neck catching on the edge. Her head was forced down, and with a loud crack, her neck bone protruded from one side. She was clearly dead.
The boy managed to grab onto a beam above just in time, dangling in mid-air.
He looked down at his girlfriend's body, which was still twitching. He was finally afraid, especially since Carrie was still staring deathly at him.
If anyone told him that the sudden collapse of the iron frame had nothing to do with Carrie, he wouldn't believe it for a second.
"Help!!!"
He screamed, his voice cracking from the strain.
The crowd below was even more cowardly than he was.
They backed away in terror, heels catching on dress hems. Some fell, others screamed.
Many of their screams were even louder than his, like a herd of frightened pigs.
They were finally jolted out of their amusement, realizing the unnatural deaths and Carrie's clearly abnormal state on stage.
Carrie raised her hand and yanked downward.
The boy suddenly felt a powerful force wrap around his lower abdomen, binding his lower body tightly. It was as if two tons of iron had been tied to his waist while he was doing a pull-up.
With almost no suspense, his body from the waist down was instantly torn away. Blood and organs surged from the rupture, raining down in a torrent.
The warm contents splashed onto the girl's corpse, creating bursts of deep red and staining Carrie's dress even darker.
He didn't die immediately.
His upper body still gripped the steel pipe tightly as he wailed, organs and blood continuing to drip down.
Seeing this, the crowd descended into a total riot.
They scrambled to flee, rushing toward the exits, their shoes making a chaotic thumping sound on the floor.
Some tripped and were trampled by those behind them; some crashed into the doors, pounding desperately; others crouched down, clutching their heads and shivering.
Carrie turned her gaze toward them.
Except for her friend—that girl—and the gym teacher who had tried to help her and ran up when he saw something was wrong, no one else could escape.
As the others ran toward the exits, they were bounced back by an invisible force, as if they had hit an unseen wall.
In the midst of the chaotic crowd, three figures stood out, looking entirely out of place.
"Don't waste food." Green casually grabbed a dozen small cakes and continued to eat while watching the show, observing his "main course" as she made herself even sweeter.
Of course, the despair radiating from the crowd also made for a fine appetizer.
Tables were overturned, spilling drinks everywhere. Food was crushed and smeared across the floor, sticking to the soles of shoes.
Carrie waved her hand.
The doors at every exit slammed shut with a heavy bang. Simultaneously, the star decorations hanging in the air exploded in a shower of electrical sparks.
The spotlights on the stage seemed to turn red. Perhaps the lights themselves had changed, or perhaps it was because Carrie was covered in blood, staining the light itself red.
It seemed she had truly become Bloody Mary, just as the mocking words had suggested.
While the boy's upper half was still screaming in mid-air, Carrie stared fixedly at the crowd, a snarl escaping from between her teeth.
"Not a single one of you... is allowed to leave!!"
Chapter 108: Failed Recruitment
These people staying in their own ivory towers were terrified; they believed that what they did was just a harmless joke,
But when the victim they were used to mocking possessed a power they couldn't understand, their statuses were reversed.
"Please, don't kill me!"
A girl knelt on the ground, hands clasped, face covered in tears. Her makeup was ruined, eyeliner mixing with tears to form black streaks down her face.
"Do you remember? Carrie, I even picked up a pen cap for you last semester!"
Another girl squeezed forward, a flattering smile forced onto her face. The smile was twisted and stiff, bunching her features together.
"Sorry, I'm really sorry! I didn't know things would turn out like this. Forgive me, I won't do it again!"
Wails rose from below the stage, voices blending into a chorus like the squealing of pigs before slaughter—begging for mercy, apologizing, shifting blame, throwing others under the bus—it was all there,
But Carrie didn't feel a hint of pleasure.
Only disgust.
Utterly disgusting!
These apologies were like filth being poured into her ears, more nauseating than the blood on her body. They constantly provoked her, and the fire in her heart suddenly manifested in reality.
Whoosh—
Flames suddenly erupted on them,
A second, a third, a fourth... one by one, they were set ablaze.
Firelight immediately filled the hall.
Those human torches screamed and scrambled, crashing into walls, doors, and each other.
Flames danced on them with a crackling sound, and the stench of burning flesh spread, mixed with the smell of blood and fear.
Seeing no escape, the crowd grew desperate.
Someone picked up a glass shard and gripped it tightly. They charged at Carrie with the madness of despair.
Carrie waved her hand.
The people in the lead were struck by a heavy blow of telekinesis and sent flying backward.
Their sternums caved in with a sickening crack, and their bodies crashed into those behind them, knocking even more people down.
Carrie walked down the steps, her hands waving as invisible telekinesis harvested one life after another.
Paranoid hatred made her unwilling to stop.
She had never experienced this thrill of controlling others before.
Those who once looked down on her were now wailing, begging, and fleeing before her.
Their lives were in her hands. If she wanted them to die, they died; if she wanted them to live, they lived.
"No wonder you enjoy being cruel so much," she grinned savagely.
With a tearing motion of her hands in the air, a girl was ripped in half from the waist. Her upper and lower body separated, organs spilling onto the floor with a splash. The girl died before she could even scream.
Carrie laughed, completely unaware that the blackness in her pupils was spreading. The whites of her eyes were being eroded, turning from white to gray, and from gray to black.
Just then,
A large hole suddenly burst through one of the walls in the hall.
Bang! Rubble flew and dust filled the air.
The night wind blew in, carrying a chill and the scent of freedom.
Everyone in the hall felt as if the pressure had dropped, and they were pulled toward the opening, floating and flying backward.
They hovered in mid-air, struggling and screaming as they were dragged toward the hole by an invisible force.
"Don't leave!!" Carrie raised her hands, using her telekinesis to try and force them to stay. Her power surged like an invisible tide, chasing those who were escaping.
"Calm down, girl. Don't burn your brain out."
A voice appeared behind her, and Carrie's heart throbbed with pain, as if someone had grabbed it and given it a gentle squeeze.
The surging telekinesis in Carrie's body suddenly drained away, like a punctured balloon.
Pfft—
Blood sprayed from her nose as she collapsed to her knees, her knees hitting the floor hard. She clutched her head, curling up in agony. The blackness churned in her eyes but could no longer expand.
"Who... who are you?"
Carrie struggled to lift her head, looking at Mary, who had appeared behind her at some unknown moment.
"Your guide, in a sense," Mary smiled.
A pink light glowed in her eyes, carrying a certain bewitching power.
A similar light lit up in Carrie's eyes. Her expression became dazed, her look of pain fading bit by bit, leaving only emptiness and confusion.
"Don't be so quick to bewitch my student."
Fiona walked in through the opening. She stood still, her gaze sweeping over Carrie before looking toward an empty space.
"Friends, won't you show yourselves?"
She habitually deployed wide-area detection cursed techniques at every landing point.
As a high-level individual holding the title of "Supreme Witch," her mana reserves had a large surplus available for use, beyond the basic consumption for maintaining physiological permanence and extending her life cycle.
Detection magic, as a low-energy routine surveillance method, was almost no burden to her.
Although the other party's magic technique belonged to a high-level sequence, the traces of manipulation were obvious, revealing an amateurish level of application.
Unfortunately for them, as an expert in this field, she had noticed it.
The crimson light film faded.
The figures of Green's trio emerged; Wanda's expression was still somewhat unpleasant.
"Impressive invisibility magic." Mary interrupted her charm and looked at them, appearing very surprised at first glance.
Not just because of the magical skill, but these three... were too young!
Especially those two girls; they looked to be in their teens, yet the mana fluctuations coming from them were incredibly strong.
And what kind of combination was this?
Two genius witches paired with a Muggle?
She looked at Green, who was wiping cream from the corner of his mouth with his fingertip. There were no mana fluctuations on him at all; he looked like a complete ordinary person.
Green stepped forward and walked directly toward Carrie.
"Hey! Little guy, don't..."
Fiona spoke up to stop him.
Before she could finish, Magik had already drawn her sword.
"Don't get in the way, old woman. You wouldn't want any unhealable scars left on that face of yours," Magik said, raising her sword.
"Soulsword?!"
Fiona's pupils shrank slightly, sensing trouble.
What dimension did this Magic warrior come from? Judging by the speed of her weapon's manifestation and the mana fluctuations, she was at least an elite-level Magic warrior, comparable to an Archdemon!
[Note: Hell Hierarchy: Lesser Imp, Lesser Demon, Greater Imp, Demon, Archdemon, Lord, Demon King (Layer Leader), Demon God (Dimensional Concept)/Dimensional Lord.]
"Fuck!"
Mary wasn't ignorant either.
Her gaze shifted to the approaching Green, which made things feel even more troublesome for her.
What was this man's identity? The offspring of some Lord? Otherwise, why would he be equipped with two guards of this level?
"Hey! We can negotiate," Mary forced a smile.
"No talk. Get lost."
"You're being a bit too arrogant, young man." Mary's expression turned sour.
She was a Witch comparable to a weak Lord-level, after all. To be given so little face?
"You..."
She didn't get to finish.
A crimson light orb suddenly appeared in front of her.
The orb was as big as a basketball, carrying powerful kinetic energy as it slammed straight into her. She didn't even have time to react and could only instinctively deploy a mana shield before being sent flying.
Her body smashed through wooden boards, snapped supports, and skidded back until she was embedded in the middle of the stage.
Mary groaned and glared fiercely at Wanda.
"What an uneducated wild Witch!!" Mary spat out some bloody saliva.
"At least more noble than you!"
Wanda tilted her chin up. As someone who had fought in the Rift, she was qualified to say that.
Mary glanced at Fiona, who noticed her look and secretly shook her head at her—the meaning was clear: she wouldn't join the fight.
Both opponents were combat-oriented, their mana fluctuations weren't weaker than theirs, and in this cramped space, they didn't have the advantage.
Unless they used their trump cards, but it wasn't worth it.
Not to mention there was a human male whose depth couldn't be seen.
"Hmph!" Mary gnashed her teeth.
Her methods weren't suited for a direct confrontation, but in the shadows, she had countless ways to make an opponent die without knowing why.
She took a serious look at Green to remember his features.
Then, she looked at Carrie with reluctance.
"What a pity."
Green flames erupted from her body, enveloping her completely.
With a flash of fire, she vanished, leaving no trace for the opponent to track.
Fiona gave Magik a polite smile, then her body hovered and flew backward through the broken hole, disappearing into the night.
"Ah~ what a shame."
Magik glanced at Green; she wanted him to see more of her value.
That way, she wouldn't have to worry about being abandoned.
Losing her family was far from being as easy to accept as she made it seem.
Those words of feigned detachment and those "it doesn't matter" expressions were just self-preservation she had learned in this cruel World.
"That move of hers felt pretty good."
Wanda muttered to herself, looking in the direction where Mary had disappeared, a trace of thought flashing in her eyes.
The magic Mary had just used on Carrie was actually a curse that could seize the target's heart.
"I should be able to replicate it."
As she spoke, a crimson glow lit up on her body. The light swirled and danced around her, beginning to simulate the mana fluctuations she had just perceived.
"What kind of talent is that..."
Magik's mouth twitched. She learned it just by sensing it once?
Her sense of crisis grew. When a Master has two dogs of the same breed, he will favor the more useful one.
And what she knew, Wanda would soon know. What she didn't know, Wanda could learn.
Magik bit her lower lip and said nothing more.
Green walked up to Carrie and stood still, looking down at the girl curled on the floor.
She was covered in blood, her head buried in her arms as she crouched on the ground, still trembling slightly.
"Look up."
Carrie hesitated for a few seconds before tilting her head up, her eyes filled with extreme wariness.
"Give me your suffering. In exchange, I will give you a better choice."
Chapter 109: The Final Template
"Do I even have a choice? I don't even know who you people are," Carrie said with a miserable, self-deprecating smile.
"But the moment I showed my power, you appeared, like some Santa Claus popping out of my rotting life. Have you been watching me this whole time?"
"Yes or no?" Green Morgan didn't waste words; he simply asked.
Carrie lowered her head, hiding the chaotic emotions in her eyes.
"...Yes."
Once she gave her consent, Green placed his hand on her head. Carrie's head sank slightly, her shoulders hunched, and she let out a whimper.
Green: "?"
But Carrie didn't experience any further untoward actions.
That hand simply rested on her head, unmoving. His palm pressed against the crown of her head—warm and dry, like a stone that had just been baked in the sun.
Whether it was because she was too cold from blood loss and hypothermia or something else...
That hand felt so warm.
She felt her shoulders slowly relax, and her tensed spine softened. Moreover, it was accompanied by a gentle suction.
The suction was light and soft, like a breeze. The negative emotions clogging her heart were rapidly receding.
Or rather, they were being drawn away.
She could feel them leaving, like stones being lifted off her chest one by one.
In their place was an indescribable sense of ease and the pleasure of release.
[Target absorption command confirmed]
[Cursed Energy Siphon initiated...]
[True Tyrant of Heaven and Earth template evolving...]
[92%... 95%... 99%... 100%]
[Template evolution complete]
[Final form unlocked]
[Additional Traits: 2]
[Black Flash]
Trigger Condition: When the time difference between a physical strike and a fel impact is compressed to within 0.000001 seconds (one-millionth of a second), a Black Flash/spark appears, accompanied by localized spatial distortion.
Damage is the 2.5th power of a regular attack. The multiplier can be further increased in the following scenarios:
High-concentration Cursed Energy environments when oneself or others fall into a state of despair.
During high fel energy/high nuclear energy release cycles.
Other extreme emotional or energy resonance scenarios.
[Heavenly Restriction II]
Type: Irreversible Binding Protocol
Binding Object: fel organ Trait 3: Scarlet Mode (Active Activation Type)
Cost Condition: When Health is above 35%, Scarlet Modeis forcibly disabled.
Benefit Mechanism:
Gain Ultimate Adaptive Resilience (Strong Super Armor status).
Permanent Absolute Damage Reduction: 10% (Ignores attack rank).
The aura on Green Morgan's body flared out uncontrollably.
In that instant, the surrounding firelight turned blood-red.
Through her spiritual vision, which she couldn't yet control properly, Carrie caught a glimpse of the true form of the person before her.
Her eyes widened.
Reflected in her pupils was a...
However, before she could see clearly, she was knocked unconscious by the aura.
"Green!! Wake up!!" Magik shouted from behind.
She and Wanda, who was beside her, had already instinctively assumed a defensive stance.
Two surges of magic erupted simultaneously—scarlet and blue intertwining to form a barrier in front of them.
"I'm listening," Green Morgan said, retracting his aura and lighting a cigarette.
The oppressive pressure vanished instantly, and the blood-colored flames around them returned to a normal, flickering orange-yellow.
"My hair is standing on end," Magik said with lingering fear, then turned to Wanda in confusion.
"Is he really human?"
"That..."
Wanda hesitated for a moment.
"...Hard to say."
"Hey, hey, I'm still right here," Green Morgan said helplessly.
"I thought you were some Demon King reincarnated, or maybe a vessel for some Demon God. Your bloodthirst is purer than a demon's."
Magik spoke bluntly as she sheathed her sword and crossed her arms.
"Let's go, let's get some skewers. A cool breeze like this is perfect for beer and food."
Green Morgan didn't want to engage with this biased girl.
Cleanup crews would handle the site. The Foundation had already coordinated with the local state government; no police cars would be showing up.
As for Carrie, the choice Green Morgan gave her was the right to speak her true thoughts and see them realized. No matter what she chose, specialists would handle the aftermath.
Wanda hesitated, then shook her head.
"No, I have to go back to Sokovia."
"This was just a temporary dispatch, not a permanent station. You understand."
"Oh, alright then," Green Morgan nodded.
"Don't you... have anything to say?"
Wanda looked up at him with a hint of expectation, her thumb rubbing the knuckle of her index finger.
"Safe travels."
"You!"
Wanda grit her teeth and kicked him in the thigh.
"I hope you get lung cancer soon, you damn chain-smoker!"
She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and walked away quickly.
"I'll come find you."
Green Morgan's voice came from behind her.
Wanda's figure paused for a moment.
"Hmph! Who wants you to!"
But as she walked away, her unconsciously light steps betrayed her heart.
"Tsundere," Magik chuckled.
Green Morgan watched her walk away, then suddenly thought of a question.
"By the way, what day is it today?"
"It's Wednesday, why?"
"Fuck!"
...
Midtown, New Orleans.
The night was deep, and the streets were empty, save for a few streetlights casting a dim yellow glow.
In the window of a certain Gypsy fortune-telling shop, crystal balls and tarot cards shimmered with an eerie luster in the faint light.
Inside, the extinguished hearth suddenly erupted with green fire.
The flames were a sickly green, surging from the bottom of the hearth. Tongues of fire reached out, licking the carpet without igniting it. They slithered across the floor like living things, and then Mary Shaw was rolled out of the green fire.
"Damn it, there was actually an unexpected variable."
She pounded the floor in frustration.
Lacking a major advantage, she and Fiona had shared a surprisingly tacit understanding: they ran.
Having lived for so long, they knew best when to fight and when to flee.
"I can't let this go!" She couldn't swallow her pride.
If she couldn't fight head-on, she would use underhanded tactics.
Anyway, she still had "Papa" to back her up. He was a demon of the Archlord level. If she was truly pushed, she would drag the opponent into the Voodoo Domain and let "Papa" handle them personally.
Mary Shaw climbed up and sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the hearth. As she chanted under her breath, the green fire flared up.
The green light illuminated the entire room, casting Mary's shadow behind her, twisting it into a grotesque shape.
She suddenly threw her head back, and green light shot simultaneously from her mouth, eyes, and nose.
Her consciousness quickly established a connection with another vessel through a mysterious link.
Meanwhile, inside a house in a small town...
The night was deep, and the curtains were tightly drawn. Only a small bedside lamp cast a dim yellow glow.
On the bed, a man and a woman were lost in pleasure.
Suddenly, the white beauty riding on top jerked her head back.
The movement was abrupt, as if she had been violently yanked. Her neck bent back to its limit, her chin pointed toward the ceiling, and a strange gurgle came from her throat.
Then, green light erupted from her mouth, eyes, and nose. The light flickered a few times before dying out, and her expression changed.
Those eyes, which had been hazy with lust, were now clear, cold, and filled with an indescribable malice. An ancient soul had occupied the body.
"What's wrong?"
The man beneath her felt her movements stop and looked at her in confusion.
"Nothing." Mary Shaw twisted her neck. She hadn't visited this Horcrux in a long time and felt a bit rusty. Muscle memory and skeletal coordination all needed to be re-adapted.
She looked down at the man beneath her.
Not a bad choice.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp features, and a good physique. His chest was broad, and his abs were well-defined—clearly someone who exercised regularly.
And... very vigorous!
Mary Shaw licked her lips. She proceeded to finish what the body's original owner had started.
A short while later...
Mary Shaw let out a long, satisfied moan. She tilted her head back, her body tensing before going limp, and she collapsed onto his chest, panting.
The man, however, had turned into a dried corpse. His skin was grayish-white and clung to his bones, his eyes were sunken, his mouth was agape, and his limbs were stiff. Yet, the expression on his dead face was one of eerie bliss.
Mary Shaw rolled off the bed, walked to the window, and pulled back a slit in the curtains.
She looked out at the lake in the distant forest, which looked like a spread of silver crystal.
She sensed several familiar dark auras. A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, followed by a smirk.
"These guys actually gathered together? Good, it saves me the trouble of finding them one by one."
Chapter 110: How Dare You Raise a Hand Against My Boss?
By the shores of Crystal Lake.
The night was as dark as ink, and the moonlight shattered into silver scales upon the lake's surface.
A campfire burned on the shore, its orange flames dancing and casting swaying shadows upon the surrounding tree trunks.
Four fierce figures sat around the campfire: Leatherface, The Moonlight Butcher, the dream demon Freddy, and the host, Jason.
The auras of these several monsters were somewhat weakened.
The surrounding area was a mess.
Trees were hacked down haphazardly, turf was upturned, mud splattered everywhere, and black blood was strewn about—it seemed they had just finished a friendly "exchange."
The fight had left them somewhat dazed, and they had temporarily fallen silent.
Over the campfire, a wild boar was mounted on an iron rack, roasting and sizzling with fat.
Freddy looked around, sizing up the fellows beside him. He scratched his red and green sweater, then reached out toward the sizzling wild boar, intending to tear off a leg to eat.
An arc of light flashed past, and half of his arm fell off.
The Moonlight Butcher then continued to earnestly wipe his blade.
"Are you guys going to eat or not! It's burning!"
Freddy grumbled as he picked up his arm. He pressed it against the stump, and it reattached just like that.
None of the monsters replied, they just stared fixedly at the fire.
"A bunch of love-starved psychopaths."
Freddy adjusted his fedora, which only had one side of the brim left. Clearly, his foul mouth had caused him to be ganged up on by the others during their "exchange," leaving him unable to resist.
After all, this was reality; his home turf wasn't here. The body he occupied now belonged to some muscular Black man having a nightmare.
As for why they were gathered together? It could only be said to be for self-preservation.
Serious problems had arisen in this World. It seemed a great terror was about to awaken, or rather, was being manufactured.
Now there was also an Angel vessel hunting down dark species; this news had been brought by Michael and Jed.
They were bloodthirsty, not stupid. Since they all came from Hell, they naturally had to band together.
But they lacked a leader. They couldn't stand the sight of each other, yet they couldn't kill each other, nor could any one of them truly win.
Leatherface was silent, the Butcher was cold, Jason was motionless, and Freddy was foul-mouthed. These four together were like a bunch of hedgehogs—prickly, yet unable to leave one another.
At that moment, the campfire turned from orange to a ghastly green and suddenly surged upward, sparks flying.
A figure emerged from the green fire, draped in white gauze, stepping through the flames as if treading on water.
Mary appeared.
"Oh~~ my dear and wanton Miss Mary!" Freddy shouted exaggeratedly. He conjured a rose and held it out to her, bowing like an old-fashioned gentleman.
"What brings you here?"
"Hi! Freddy."
Mary took the flower and brought it to her nose to sniff.
"The last sweet dream was quite good. Prepare another one for me while you're at it."
These monsters were regulars from Hell in the real World. They could be communicated with and even hired. She had traded with them several times.
"Of course! What's the specific plot?"
"We'll discuss the details later. You know the payment." Mary gave him a flirtatious wink, lifting her veil to reveal her graceful body.
"No problem!" Freddy chuckled.
It just so happened that the Black guy he was possessing had a big one.
"Good."
Mary was somewhat impatient, but she didn't forget her business.
"I have a commission for you all."
"Yes?"
Freddy glanced at the others who weren't speaking; it was up to him to talk.
"Thirty young souls in exchange for his death."
Mary waved her hand, and Green Morgan's face appeared within the fire.
"How about it?"
But she found that the monsters, including Freddy, were just staring straight at Green Morgan, completely deaf to her inquiry.
"Forty souls?" she increased the price, but there was still no response.
She was completely unaware that behind the face in their eyes, a throne had appeared—one from Hell. That throne was pitch black and towering, looming within the flames.
They knew they had found their boss. Now, all they needed was a gift.
"Fifty souls." Mary said with some heartache; this was already a tenth of her reserves.
They slowly turned their heads, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief.
"Agreed?" She snatched a parchment contract that appeared out of thin air.
But the monsters glanced at each other and silently picked up their weapons.
Leatherface gripped his chainsaw, pulling the cord with a roar; the Butcher stood up, spinning his cleaver in his hand; Jason held his machete; and Freddy's iron claws spread open.
Mary took a step back, an ominous feeling rising in her heart.
She forced a smile.
"You... you're planning to sign the contract with me, right?"
But the monsters didn't answer, directly surrounding her.
"Heh... hehe, right?"
In the forest, a cluster of green fire flared up and vanished in an instant.
...
[Leatherface, The Moonlight Butcher, Freddy the Dream Demon, and the host Jason have pledged their loyalty to you through the throne, becoming your subordinates. Accept? Yes/No.]
Green Morgan, who had hurried back to his residence, stopped at the door and looked down at the system prompt that popped up.
The portraits of the four monsters were lined up on the panel: Leatherface, the Butcher's human skin mask, Freddy's iron clawed glove, and Jason's hockey mask.
Beneath each avatar, a tiny red light pulsed like a heartbeat.
He had no reason to refuse.
"Accept."
[Your subordinates, the Four Monsters, have killed 1/13 Voodoo Queen.]
A throne suddenly appeared in Green Morgan's line of sight.
The throne emerged from the void—pitch black, towering like a silent mountain. The backrest was taller than a person, the armrests were wide, and the seat was broad enough for two people.
At the top of the backrest, a twisted totem was carved. It wasn't words or symbols, but some older, more primitive mark.
This throne was also a dimensional node.
A nascent one.
Like a freshly sprouted seed taking root in the soil of Hell.
The spatial anchor had just formed and was still fragile, but its outline could already be sensed.
In that darkness, a continent had branched out.
It was about the size of several hundred football fields—not large, but solid. Blood-red, active soil covered the ground, undulating slightly like breathing.
Within it, a chopped-up female corpse was being devoured.
It was Mary. Her body had been cut into several pieces, her head rolling to the side, eyes still wide open.
The blood-red soil writhed like a living thing, swallowing her body bit by bit from the edges like a chewing mouth.
"Is this... mine?"
[Every Demon King possesses the qualification to construct an exclusive layer of Hell and enjoys supreme authority within that layer.]
[This is the source authority granted by Hell. It can be fully inherited after formal coronation; at this stage, only usage rights are open.]
"Not bad at all."
In Green Morgan's view, it was just another safe house—well, a rather large safe house.
He took out his key, turned it, twisted the door handle, and pushed his way inside.
The door hinges creaked softly, and the sound of laughter from the living room reached him first—a mature woman's laughter, lazy and carrying a hint of unrestrained flamboyance.
The laughter rippled through the warm light like someone swirling a glass of aged red wine.
After changing his shoes, he walked into the living room.
A woman leaned back on the sofa, her blonde hair scattered across the cushions with slightly curled ends.
The light shone from behind her, casting a hazy halo around that thin layer of blonde hair.
She wore only a piece of tight-fitting lingerie—dark-colored and clinging to her skin, with a very low-cut neckline that revealed a large area of fair skin.
Her collarbones were distinct, her shoulders rounded, and those two full mounds on her chest were wrapped in fabric, squeezed into a deep cleavage.
The hem of the lingerie barely reached the tops of her thighs. Her legs were crossed and resting on the coffee table—calves straight, ankles slender, and her nails painted with rose-colored polish.
It was Helen.