Round 24: The Decisive Move

Eerie smoke spread and swirled, its altered speed exceeding everyone’s reaction time. In an instant, it filled the abandoned house, and the ground took on an unnaturally distorted shape as if refracted by a curved lens, beginning to churn and swirl like the insatiable sand dunes of the desert—once it caught its prey, it would draw it into an abyss from which there was no escape.

Douglas was horrified. His massive frame wavered as if he tried to leap but failed, and he hastily turned to Paris, only to find her face twisted with shock and anger as well: “Dagulas, what are you doing?! This isn’t part of our plan!”

Another sweet, bell-like laugh followed.

“Not part of our plan? It’s just not part of *your* plan.”

Unlike the two Teflinians’ panic, the group of forty-seven stood firmly on the turbulent dark currents beneath them. A layer of emerald-green glow surrounded them—a barrier activated—or rather triggered—by Moriel as the situation escalated; clearly, she had been prepared.

“Dear!” Dagulas’ voice shifted constantly, making it impossible to pinpoint her location. “You’re quite skilled at sealing off spaces now! I wonder how long you can hold on. I’m sure you’ve noticed—today’s trap I set for you isn’t just a simple portal! It would be best if that metal handsome guy beside you didn’t move around; getting lost in a spatial vortex isn’t something to take lightly… From my observations, he’s a complete layman when it comes to understanding the mysteries of the multiverse!”

She was right. Moriel hadn’t expected Dagulas to go this far. Once the dimensional lock was formed, it faced waves of intense pressure after another. The portal lacked the calmness and stability typical of most spatial passages, instead resembling mysterious and powerful whirlpools in a stormy ocean—leaving those who came into contact with it no choice but to be swept along.

“I’ll figure something out. Don’t act rashly,” Moriel said, maintaining the dimensional lock while signaling to the forty-seven. The power of mages lay not only in their ability to hurl fireballs and obliterate everything in front of them but also in their capacity to use “magic” as a medium to touch certain inherent laws of the multiverse and harness them—much like discovering air buoyancy allowed humans to create hot air balloons and fulfill their dream of flying. So, though Dagulas’ spatial vortex was fierce, it wasn’t easy to counter Moriel’s spells. But if the forty-seven released energy now to undergo massive transformation, it might only serve to make matters worse. Judging from the chaotic state of the portal beneath their feet, the metal man’s strength would only be harmful, which was probably exactly what Dagulas wanted to see.

Perhaps because he felt guilty about the hot spring issue, the forty-seven obeyed the female mage’s orders and didn’t take any drastic actions. He crossed his arms leisurely, with two shiny white gold coins held between his index and middle fingers of his right hand, ignoring Dagulas’ provocations and focusing instead on watching Douglas and Paris struggle deeper and deeper into their predicament.

“Jacob, have you thought this through?” Moriel turned back to look at the Planar Merchant. It was 47 who was in charge of threatening this indecisive merchant; after weighing the options, the female mage decided that Ironface would be perfect for such a task—since she had realized at the half-goat murder scene that her old friend Dracula was likely to show up uninvited on her planar journey.

The result was remarkable. The Planar Merchant finally understood which side he should be on. “Everyone, be careful!” His intertwined fingers moved as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, so quickly it was hard to follow: “I can sense that the planar portal here is very unstable! Any intense energy reaction could cause it to activate prematurely or collapse completely! That would be a huge problem for us… Who knows where the spatial turbulence might throw us in the multiverse, if we’re still alive by then!”

“Jacob! How dare you betray us?” In his panic, Douglas completely stripped away his fake, friendly mask from when he was in the hot spring bathhouse. His thick veins pulsed visibly under his skin as he shouted at the Planar Merchant: “What are you doing? Help me! Don’t forget our agreement, and don’t forget the control spells I’ve cast on you—”

The gold coins in 47’s hand flashed suddenly. Douglas was trying hard to stabilize his body, which was gradually sinking, and he shouted at Jacob angrily. But as if in response to the Metal Man’s subtle movement, the bathhouse owner’s fat belly also trembled. The surprise on his face quickly replaced his earlier anger as he looked down to see what was happening to him…

He began to scream hysterically. Something was moving wildly beneath his clothes, starting from his waist. Douglas no longer had the energy to activate any control spells on Jacob. He frantically scratched at his own body. His suddenly elongated nails not only tore through his clothes but also left gruesome wounds on his flesh. Yet the dozen or so blood blooms that rapidly expanded and merged together were certainly not caused by mere scratches.

As Douglas lost his balance and fell to the ground, several small objects as shiny as white gold coins rolled off him. Instead of drifting away in the fluctuating space, they rolled around in the gushing blood before climbing back toward Douglas. They truly crawled, as the coins fired at Douglas made it clear what those little things were. The white gold coins flew from his hands, tracing an arc in the air illuminated by the flames—yet this valuable yet seemingly ordinary coin, often called a “Heavenly Coin” by dimension travelers, transformed while rolling, quickly changing from a small solid precious metal into a mechanical creature endowed with a soul. With stretching, rotating, folding, and biting motions, six slender, needle-sharp limbs extended from the transformed coin. Upon landing on Douglas’s neck, they paused for just a moment before creating a blood hole larger than their own size. The bathhouse owner’s screams stopped abruptly; his mouth was wide open, but he couldn’t say anything, because if anyone threw a grape into his mouth, it would immediately escape through the hole created by the coin creature, let alone air to vibrate his vocal cords.

“You like money so much? Then get close to your money babies.” Forty-Seven seemed quite pleased.

“Miss Morriel, I think the other side of this door leads to the ‘Red Tower’! It’s the largest portal in the Ribs and Cage City that leads to the Bato dimension! Can you trust me?” Douglas’s miserable fate resonated deeply with Jacob, as that bag of money was originally meant for the dimension merchant. If he hadn’t carefully weighed his options and decided to turn against them, sending the “reward” to Douglas in his own name to show his stance to the Tin Man and his group, it would be him who turned into cheese now.

“What’s your plan?” Although the female mage hadn’t spoken openly with the dimension merchant, she did have hope for Jacob. If this fickle man could make up his mind, his extensive experience in traveling between dimensions would be very useful. Teaching a lesson to the persistent Draculaus was just a secondary goal; if Jacob really proved ungrateful, she was confident she could stop Draculaus’s scheme to send them to hell—though that would delay their journey to the City of Imprints. Random wandering in the dark would only give the enemy more opportunities and bring her more trouble.

“There can’t be just one fixed destination for this type of portal! I’m trying to analyze its structure; it should be possible to turn it into a real path to the City of Imprints, but I need to keep it stable and some time!”

A swift arrow shot straight at Jacob’s face as he was distracted by talking. The startled merchant could even clearly see the deep blood grooves and the green glow of venom on the triangular tip of the arrow—it was deflected aside by Morriel’s magic shield. As if signaling a full-scale attack, arrows rained down from doors, windows, cracks in the walls, and the darkness untouched by the flames, with the sound of them slicing through the air incessantly.

“My trust depends on your actions.” In an instant, Si Forty-Seven became almost indistinguishable from Pang Juan, who stood under the tree, foolishly reading the messages. Fortunately, he was much stronger than Pang Juan. His red eyes darted around, clearly plotting something sinister. “If you can be faster and reduce the time we spend here as sitting ducks, you’ll earn more of my trust.”

Gel narrowed his eyes, aimed carefully, and released an arrow. The Demon-Defeating Arrow pierced Paris’s back of the head as he struggled to survive in the trap, shattered his front teeth, and protruded far out, with only its tail feathers trembling like braids. Paris’s limp body, like Douglas’s corpse, sank into the floor lit by flickering flames, gradually fading from sight.

“You did this on purpose, dear Gel.”

Dagulas appeared silently beside him. More soldiers in black helmets and armor surrounded the ruined house where Si Forty-Seven and the others were, firing enchanted arrows at them without restraint. “This isn’t good! Demon-Defeating Arrows are very precious!”

“Will doubling the number of archers really hurt that metal bastard?” Gel grinned viciously. “Anyway, Paris is already dead. Using this opportunity to settle old scores with him—what’s the problem?”

Dagulas covered her mouth and chuckled lightly. “Who said that? Even in hell, I can bring him back. But after taking such a hit to the head, he’ll never be able to come back. But I like your attitude… I’ll forgive you this time. Focus on my friends, okay?”

Alei, who appeared along with Dagulas, clearly disagreed. If brightness could represent hatred, then his eyes were like lighthouses: “These cheap tricks are completely useless! Morriel’s metal pup hasn’t used his power as you hoped! The portal can’t be activated—it lacks the necessary activation state!”

“If the skylark won’t sing, find a way to make it sing.” Dagulas quickly made several gestures, disrupting the magic net and countering one of Morriel’s protective spells. “I say stop hiding and shooting arrows from afar. Charge in and attack! Once you get paid, you should give it your all!”

Hearing this, the armored soldiers exchanged glances. What a joke? Do they think we’re fools? That’s a direct route to hell! Although Ribcage City was Batou’s undisputed stronghold in the Outer Lands, and its lord, Lord Pricks, shared the same hatred as those flaming Batzu demons, it was still completely different from actually going to the Ninth Circle of Hell for a visit or even settling there permanently. That’s why there were rumors that Lord Pricks and his senators were secretly working to build inns for those foolish and kind people from Precision City, Trade City, and so on. Wasn’t it to mitigate the erosion of hellish forces and ensure the cities remained firmly rooted in the Outer Lands? They weren’t those mentally deranged madmen from Plague City!

“Miss Dagulas, I think…” A warrior who seemed to be a captain tried to offer his suggestion.

A wisp of dark smoke leaped from Dagulas’s fingertips and rushed into the warrior’s mouth like a frantic fly. His words were instantly choked off by that darkness. The warrior’s eyes widened in shock as he dropped his bow and arrows, gripping his throat tightly. His mouth was open wide, but no sound came out. Eventually, his knees gave way, and he collapsed backward, smoke with a burnt smell emerging from all his pores.

“You guys, don’t even think about it,” Dagulas glanced at the crowd. “That’s one of the reasons I like necromancy spells—undead don’t need pay, nor brains.”

Without hesitation, the fodder rushed forward.

The rectangular black iron tower shield smashed through the walls of the ruined house like a bulldozer, shielding its bearer as he charged in. But before the person behind the shield could throw their throwing axe, a ball of crystal-clear cold energy struck the devil’s head carved on the shield. The burly warrior, resembling a half-ork, was sent flying back along the path he had entered—wherever he passed, the broken wall edges instantly covered in frost, cracking loudly. When it came to offensive ice-based spells, Kayro was even stronger than Moriel.

However, as Dagulas pushed the soldiers of Bone Cage City forward, the portal on the ground grew more unstable, creating ripples like lake waves.

Moriel pushed, squeezed, and swung her hand. Another fool who rushed forward was easily controlled by these moves and flung far away like trash. Then, the next spell she intended to cast was disrupted by several hidden magical waves. Though it was just a slight difference, it was still far from what Moriel wanted.

“How much longer?” Moriel asked, watching Jacob fidgeting with his fingers under her protection. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t anxious. “Hey, don’t rush into action!”

The latter sentence was meant for Forty-Seven. Dagulas surely knew everything about the Metal Man. Even if it was out of her cruel amusement, it would be unusual to send such incompetent scum to die like this.

Forty-Seven grinned, showing his teeth. There wasn’t even a spark coming from him, nor did he show his unique “shapeshifting” ability. The enemy was right in front of him—though now armored head to toe, Forty-Seven still recognized the ugly face of the bearded man hiding behind two of his subordinates.

Arrogant metal-faced fool! Thinking you can do whatever you want in Bone Cage City just because you have some skills? Let me show you what happens… Such thoughts only lingered in the bearded man’s mind for a short time. First, he saw the Metal Man raise his hand, then a thin, bright silver beam shot out from his fingertips, seemingly passing over the two soldiers in front of him.

The armor on us isn’t some junk from a street vendor—it’s reinforced with magic! It might even be stronger than your crappy iron plates! An attack of this scale… That was what the Bearded Man thought. Suddenly, everything turned blood-red before his eyes. He rushed through the blinding blood mist, not even realizing where the blood came from, before finding himself unable to maintain his balance and falling to the ground. Using his last bit of strength, he tried to turn around to see what had happened to him and his men, but all he could see was the black, spiked steel soles of 47.

My waist hurts… That was his last conscious thought.

It wasn’t just the Bearded Man and his two human shields—actually, within a large area in front of 47, about a dozen soldiers, despite having different wounds, all suffered the same tragic fate: they were cut in two with a single strike. The metal man raised his hand in a pose, with a glistening droplet of water on the palm.

“Applying ultra-high pressure to the water and then shooting it out at supersonic speed creates a water blade that can cut through steel like cheese… This is the Namdu Waterbird Fist!” Setting aside the absurd name, this move was absolutely stunning—even Kayro was stunned. Was the Iron Man using water as a weapon?

47’s second strike reached even further. The high-pressure water stream sliced through everything in its path, leaving neat severed pieces behind.

“Look at the mess you’ve made!” Ale, watching from behind, roared, unable to hold back any longer. “He won’t fall for it! He won’t willingly trigger the trap!”

Flames blazed fiercely. Amidst the roars, a wall of fire over ten feet high rose, with swirling flames forming distorted, screaming faces on its surface. With a wave of Ale’s hands, the fire wall rushed toward the ruined house like a curtain. Those caught in it didn’t just get burned—they were torn, crushed, and devoured by the flames, which turned red from the blood.

As the raging fire wave surged upward, Jacob’s eyes lit up.

“Get ready! Now!” he shouted. The portal beneath his feet, which had been constantly surging, also merged with Ale’s raging flames, boiling like oil and surging upward to engulf all living and dead within its range, merging with the sea of fire that consumed everything.

Watching the massive, destructive flames rise into the sky, lighting up the dimly red night sky over Ribcage City, Dracula wasn’t pleased at all. Instead, he snapped angrily, “Ale! You idiot! You’ve ruined everything!”