Round 20: Breakthrough

This weapon resembled the particle cannon that 47 had once used—only then it was shoulder-mounted, while now it was arm-mounted.
This change stunned everyone present, except for Roy. His ability to rise to the third-in-command position in Whitebeard’s pirate crew wasn’t just due to his almost fanatical brutality and evil toward women. Under any circumstances, Roy was always the first to sense danger and flee. Unfortunately, 47 immediately made him his second target.
A dark red flame, accompanied by fierce hot wind, erupted from the cannon barrel and struck Roy’s back precisely. Compared to other magical flames, the flames from this barrel were more directional, not spreading everywhere, which made them even more penetrating. Instantly, a large hole appeared in Roy’s stomach. Relying only on a few broken ribs, Roy still managed to run several steps before collapsing to the ground with several crisp “cracks.” He must have wondered before dying what had tripped him.
47 stroked the smooth cannon body. Its design and performance gave him a sense of familiarity.
Hoffman knew his doom had come, but he could still make one last effort.
“Run for your lives!” Hoffman shouted. The pirates, already terrified by 47’s actions, began screaming and scattering in all directions. Hoffman mixed in with the crowd. It was already dark, so at least fleeing was still possible.
Jensen immediately took Milla and Castor to hide beneath the wall of a house. The fleeing pirates weren’t worth chasing anymore, and their strength and injuries didn’t allow them to fight further.
A large area around 47 quickly cleared out. Ignoring the fleeing pirates, 47 raised his arm, examining his new weapon. He either held it horizontally to aim or swung his wrist to feel its weight. Black steel wings on his back rapidly unfolded, and thick white smoke spread out from the cannon. 47’s red eyes flickered, as if he was channeling his inner energy into the beast’s maw on his right wrist.
47’s feet gradually left the ground. Thanks to the flapping of his wings and the steam, his flying ability improved further. Still, he stopped when he reached the height of the rooftops. Jensen and the others watched 47, guessing what he intended to do.
“What’s he doing… Is it a ceremony to celebrate victory?” As night fell completely, Castor seemed to regain his energy. His white eyes stared at 47 in the air, filled with curiosity—a rare trait for an elf of the night.
“Who knows? He’s the strangest half-pyreborn creature I’ve ever seen… If he even is a half-pyreborn.” Jensen looked around. Almost no pirates were left in sight.

Milia said nothing, her eyes fixed on 47, her grip on the twin swords tightening further.
47’s eyes flashed wildly as his left arm, equipped with a construct cannon, dropped toward the ground, while his right hand held the barrel. As 47 leaned slightly backward, a thin, pale red beam shot out from the cannon, hitting the ground before retracting instantly, followed by a burst of intense steam that propelled him higher into the sky. When the upward force stopped and his body reached its peak, 47 raised his arm. Unlike the previous linear flame, a molten black-red energy sphere shot out from the barrel, heading straight toward 47’s feet and the ground not far from Jason and the others.
“He’s insane!” Jason shouted, pressing Castor and Milia low to the ground. The three of them crouched, ready to withstand the impact of that clearly extremely powerful projectile.
The projectile hit the ground but only raised a cloud of dust. After the energy sphere struck the ground, it created a dark pit that transformed into a circle of energy ripples, spreading outward like ripples on water. Jason could clearly feel the pure destructive force passing beneath him, yet strangely, none of the three of them were affected at all.
Castor was the first to stand up. He looked in the direction the energy ripples had dissipated, his furrowed brows relaxing slightly before tightening again. “So this is his goal… Good heavens.”
Before Jason could ask what he meant, a wall of fire suddenly rose in the distance. In fact, it was a continuous ring of flames that spread outward. Though it lasted less than a few seconds, the screams and cries that came from afar made Jason realize something.
“What do you see?” Milia asked anxiously. She had never seen the horror reflected in Castor’s pupils before.
“Purgatory… a true vision of purgatory…” Castor glanced back at 47, who had already landed, then stared into the distance again, his expression strange—part shock and terror, yet with a hint of excitement. “Demonic power… demonic power!”
Jason frowned but said nothing. This elf was sometimes crazy, as he had realized when Castor talked to plants.
Under Castor’s guidance, Jason and Milia quickly found the place where the night elves and guild prisoners were held. There were plenty of elves, but fewer than three or five of the guild prisoners remained, having been slaughtered by thieves.
“Why does such outrageous evil and wickedness exist in the world…” Milia, who had discovered the execution chamber, faced the various bizarre, bloodstained torture devices and piles of smelly corpses. Unlike usual, she wasn’t filled with rage. Instead, she clasped her hands over her chest, unsure whether to pray for the victims or ask her gods to punish the criminals as they deserved.
The criminals indeed were punished, but it wasn’t the gods who did it—it was that detestable half-purgatorial creature.

Forty-seven remained in the same spot from the moment he landed. The red light dimmed, there was no sound at all, and he stood there like a golem, only gradually showing some movement.
“We need to leave here as soon as possible. There might be other fierce bandit groups in the Cold Wasteland. After this battle, it’s hard to say whether it won’t attract even more troublesome people!” Jason directed the few merchants who could still move to gather the surviving camel-like beasts and prepare to leave overnight.
“As an envoy of the Night Elves, Alphens offers you his highest gratitude!” At that moment, Castor helped a female Night Elf over. Though she seemed weak, her expressionless face showed solemnity and dignity.
“It’s nothing. We’re just acting on someone else’s request,” Jason said, waving his hand indifferently.
“I found this and this elsewhere. I think we should take these things away from here together!” Forty-seven, who had disappeared after the rescue operation, appeared then. He threw a pack of Agus gold coins on the ground and fiddled with a round object in his hand—a suspected bomb.
Castor whispered a few words in Elvish into Alphens’ ear, and the latter immediately began to pay attention to Forty-seven. Jason noticed this but quickly turned away.
Soon, a new group left the lair of the White Beard Bandits and set off south under the cover of darkness. This time, Forty-seven didn’t act alone; he was also part of the group. Jason and Milia, unusually, didn’t object. Strictly speaking, it was the first time for both the inexperienced Milia and the experienced Jason to travel with such a creature, but it seemed they were more concerned about other matters right now.
A little outside the circular complex, the group passed through a burned area, with plumes of smoke rising in many places. The residual heat on the ground disrupted the camel-like beasts slightly, but not a single corpse was visible anywhere. The flesh and blood must have been burned to ashes or completely absorbed into the soil.
Castor and Alphens stopped with interest, observing the scorched land for a while before continuing their journey. It seemed they kept watching Forty-seven secretly along the way, while he focused intently on fiddling with his new equipment. His body hadn’t regained its usual agility, but others couldn’t tell.
Compared to when he was in Hoffman’s hands, both its cannon form and its transformed hammer state were much smaller. With each transformation, its structure was continuously optimized, with unnecessary parts discarded—though its weight hadn’t decreased much.
Attraction, or rather resonance—like manipulating fingers, Forty-seven tried to inject energy again but failed, probably because the previous strike had consumed too much energy. Disappointed, he manipulated the arm cannon to retract and cover his left arm, forming a beast-head-shaped armor device.

Perhaps it was because both sides possessed core energy that 47 could manipulate so effortlessly the exoskeletal weapon seized from Hoffman, and even turn it into a part of himself—something that pleased and delighted him greatly, as if he were back in the days when he attached various components to his body.