"I'll remember you!"
After warping the flaming spear aside, Mr. A did not attempt another exchange.
Wings of wind erupted from his back as he lunged toward the nearest window.
Members of the Iron Front were insane.
That did not mean they were stupid.
The child before him had dismantled his attacks with humiliating ease. Continuing the fight meant gambling on a miracle.
Even if he somehow won, the opponent had openly mentioned the churches.
Reinforcements would follow.
Escape was the only rational option.
Unfortunately, Rowan Mercer had no intention of letting him leave.
A flash of fire.
Rowan appeared beside him.
Mr. A's eyes lit up instead of filling with fear.
"Then you're asking to die!"
He specialized in flesh-based sorcery.
Close-range combat was where he was strongest.
Even someone above him in rank could be torn apart if careless.
Power alone never guaranteed victory.
Different paths excelled at different forms of combat.
His path was designed for slaughter.
Mr. A instantly switched to one of the souls he carried.
A wave of malignant sickness erupted.
At the same time, his body collapsed into a writhing mass of flesh that surged toward Rowan like living tar.
The plan was simple.
Weaken the target.
Enter their body.
Destroy them from the inside.
Against most opponents, it worked.
Against Rowan…
It was meaningless.
Rowan snapped his fingers.
A massive blue fire-dragon materialized and swallowed the advancing flesh in one bite.
Disease meant nothing to him.
Even a god-level plague would struggle to affect Rowan's body.
"AAAAA!"
Mr. A's scream echoed through the hall.
He tore himself free from the flames, abandoning the flesh-form and dissolving into a shadow.
"Shadow."
Rowan's own shadow stretched across the floor, rising into a gigantic hand that clenched around the fleeing darkness.
Mr. A was yanked back into physical form.
Panicking, he ripped off his right arm.
"Explode!"
The severed limb began to swell violently.
Rowan was already in front of him.
One casual slap.
Everything ended.
The souls Mr. A carried were blasted out of his body.
The supernatural essence sustaining him was torn away.
In a blink, he became nothing more than an ordinary man.
Mr. A stared in disbelief.
"…Impossible."
Rowan did not answer.
He sealed the extracted souls and collected the condensed remnants of power and rare materials from Mr. A's body.
Then he grabbed the man by the collar.
Fire flared.
They vanished.
The entire fight had lasted less than five seconds.
The independent practitioners in the hall had barely risen from their seats before it was over.
Silence.
Then frantic breathing.
"That… that child just captured an Iron Front emissary."
"In seconds…"
Cold sweat drenched their backs.
Some felt terror.
Others felt overwhelming relief.
If Mr. A had remained, any of them might have become his next sacrifice.
At least the child had not turned on them.
"That was combat between true monsters…"
"I've never seen anything like it."
Two people whispered in the corner.
Hugh.
And Fors.
They were the same investigators Audrey had once hired.
The same two she was evaluating for potential entry into the Tarot Club.
Both felt their worldview shatter.
Elsewhere, Rowan stepped out of a ripple of flame inside the Night Church.
He found Senior Deacon Chris waiting.
"Emissary of the Iron Front," Rowan said calmly. "Mid-tier controller. Alive."
He dropped Mr. A onto the floor.
"That should be enough to exchange for the ritual I need."
Chris's eyes widened.
"More than enough."
Catching an operative of that level was extraordinarily rare.
Especially one from the Iron Front.
Alive, no less.
If Mr. A had been operating in Backlund, he was almost certainly preparing something catastrophic.
Now they could uncover it.
Chris did not ask how Rowan had found him.
Everyone in this world had secrets.