“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
The Hunter Blunderbuss thundered across the empty bridge in rapid succession.
The dense barrage forced the second Scourge Beast to retreat and dodge, preventing it from closing the distance.
Seizing the opportunity, Charles pulled one of the Pungent Blood Cocktails he had collected earlier from his waist and hurled it with all his strength at the feet of the Scourge Beast driven back by the gunfire.
The glass bottle shattered, releasing a strange, overpowering scent of blood so potent it seemed almost tangible.
To bloodthirsty creatures, the smell held an irresistible allure.
Almost at once, the enormous Carrion Crows lurking in the shadows along both sides of the bridge and circling overhead seemed to answer some unseen summons.
Greedy caws filled the air.
They descended like a black storm, their fear of the Scourge Beast’s claws and fangs forgotten.
Swarming the creature drenched in the enticing liquid, they tore frantically at its hide and flesh with their beaks and talons.
“Well done, kid!”
Father Gascoigne growled his approval.
Taking advantage of the opening, he joined forces with Alfred’s projection, who had just freed himself from the struggle, and surrounded the Scourge Beast pinned to the ground and deprived of most of its mobility.
Charles entered the fray without hesitation.
His Threaded Cane struck like a venomous serpent, opening wound after wound across the creature’s body.
The tide of battle began to turn decisively in their favor.
The Scourge Beast threw back its head and howled in agony.
Charles caught the opening, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes as he once again unleashed the Hunter’s deadly technique, Visceral Attack.
He slid to the side and drove his serrated arm like a drill into the Scourge Beast’s comparatively soft abdomen.
Then he wrenched it back with savage force.
“Shhk! Squelch!”
Warm fragments of viscera were torn free amid a sickening sound, leaving behind a ghastly wound that would not easily heal.
“Awooo!”
The fatal blow drew a deafening roar from the Scourge Beast, filled with agony and unbridled rage.
It tore itself free from the twin blades, spun around without regard for its own life, and lunged straight at Charles in a blood-red blur, intent on dragging him down with it.
In that split second, Charles remained calm.
His wrist snapped into motion, and the Threaded Cane changed form instantly.
The serrated whip lashed out like a living serpent toward the kneeling stone statues beside the bridge railing.
“Crack! Crash!”
Several heavy statues toppled beneath the blow and rolled between Charles and the Scourge Beast, forming a temporary barrier.
At the same time, Charles retreated swiftly while firing the pistol in his other hand.
Each bullet struck the gaping wound in the Scourge Beast’s abdomen, worsening its injuries.
“Trying to escape? Not so fast!”
Father Gascoigne and Alfred’s projection arrived just in time.
They repeated their earlier tactic.
Alfred swung the assembled Polearm Warhammer once more, driving the badly wounded Scourge Beast toward a cluttered corner near the edge of the bridge and restricting its movement with overwhelming force.
Father Gascoigne roared and swung his massive axe like a windmill, pouring every ounce of strength into a relentless assault.
“ROAR!”
Battered again and again and driven into a desperate corner, the Scourge Beast raised its head and unleashed the loudest, most despairing howl of its life.
The sound struck like a physical force, carrying the oppressive presence of a Beast and a will consumed by madness.
It hammered against the minds of everyone present.
The dying Scourge Beast seized that moment.
Summoning the last of its strength, it knocked aside Alfred’s hammer and dragged its broken body toward the other Scourge Beast, which had finally escaped the Carrion Crows and was likewise covered in wounds.
The two creatures angrily tore apart several Carrion Crows that still refused to stop pecking at them, then greedily devoured their blood and flesh.
To everyone’s horror, pale red vapor began rising from their bodies like steam.
Their wounds, some deep enough to expose bone, writhed and closed at a speed visible to the naked eye.
“That regenerative ability… It’s terrifying.”
The three regrouped and stood shoulder to shoulder, their expressions grave.
The advantage they had fought so hard to establish seemed to vanish in an instant.
“A pity,” Father Gascoigne said between ragged breaths.
“We missed our best chance to kill one outright.”
“It doesn’t matter. Another chance will come.”
Charles surveyed their surroundings.
His gaze settled once again on the building beneath the bridge where they had previously taken shelter.
“Perhaps we can use that building. The Scourge Beasts are large, and the entrance is narrow. As long as we can hold the doorway…”
Father Gascoigne considered the idea briefly, and determination returned to his eyes.
“That could work. Alfred and I will lure them over. You prepare to welcome our ‘guests.'”
With the plan decided, the two immediately split up.
Using their agility and ranged attacks, they enraged the Scourge Beasts and successfully drew them toward the entrance of the building.
As expected, the narrow doorway and thick stone walls became the creatures’ greatest obstacle.
Their furious attacks repeatedly struck the solid frame and walls.
They could force their claws and heads through the opening, but their massive bodies could not pass.
From the relative safety inside, Charles watched calmly and waited for his chance.
“Now!”
Alfred’s heavy hammer crashed through the doorway once more, striking one of the Scourge Beasts as it tried to force its way inside.
The blow left the creature dazed and sluggish.
Charles attacked with all his strength.
The Threaded Cane shot from the shadows within the building like a deadly crimson flower bursting into bloom.
It curved precisely around the obstacles, pierced the old wound in the Scourge Beast’s abdomen, and twisted violently inside its body.
The creature gave one last feeble whimper.
Its massive frame convulsed several times before it finally drew its last breath, bringing its long battle to an end.
The remaining Scourge Beast howled in grief and fury at the sight of its companion’s death.
But deprived of its partner and forced to fight alone, it could not escape the coordinated assault of the three Hunters.
Alfred held it at bay from the front.
Father Gascoigne attacked viciously from the flank.
Charles harried it from a distance before delivering the fatal blow.
Before long, it shared its companion’s fate.
Its massive body crashed heavily at the bridgehead, then dissolved into a cloud of Blood Echoes that gradually faded away.
They looked toward the unknown territory ahead, still shrouded in dense fog.
Their brief elation at victory quickly gave way to the heavy uncertainty of what awaited them.
Once the troublesome Scourge Beasts were dead, the obstacles ahead became far fewer.
Only a handful of slow-moving, delirious residents remained scattered along the way.
The three advanced without difficulty.
In the distance, the towering silhouette of the Cathedral Ward appeared and vanished through the mist.
Charles, however, had already noticed something wrong with Father Gascoigne.
His breathing had grown heavier and more erratic, like air rasping through worn bellows.
His normally resolute face was now pale as paper, and cold sweat continued to bead along his brow.
Maintaining Alfred’s projection was placing a constant strain on his mind.
On top of that, the accumulated toll of days of brutal hunting and his old injuries seemed to be catching up with him all at once.
“Father, you look terrible. Should we stop and rest for a while?”
Charles slowed his pace and spoke with concern.
“No… There’s no need.”
Father Gascoigne’s words were slightly slurred, but he forced his back straight despite looking as though he might collapse at any moment.
His eyes remained fixed on the path ahead.
“Until this is over… Until I know Viola and the children are safe, I cannot stop.”
With a trembling hand, he took an ordinary Blood Vial from inside his clothing and roughly drove the needle into a vein in his arm.
Dark red liquid entered his body, but Charles could see that the ordinary blood did little to relieve his severe exhaustion or the deeper discomfort afflicting him.
Father Gascoigne’s steps became unsteady.
Even Alfred’s projection, which had previously appeared almost solid, began to flicker.
Ripples like disturbed water spread along its edges.
“Careful!”
Charles rushed forward and caught Father Gascoigne before he could stumble over a loose stone.
He helped him lean against the cold stone railing and slowly sit down.
Seeing his condition deteriorate so quickly, Charles hurriedly searched through his pack.
His fingers soon brushed against a finely crafted Blood Vial bearing a distinctive label.
He pulled it out without hesitation.
It was the refined Blood Vial given to him by Dr.
Iosefka, whose effects were far stronger than those of ordinary blood.
“May the gods protect you…”
Charles murmured the words as he carefully inserted the needle into a vein in Father Gascoigne’s other arm.
The blood, rich with a purer life force, slowly entered his body.
Before long, a faint trace of color returned to Father Gascoigne’s deathly pale face.
His flagging spirit seemed to revive, and his breathing gradually steadied.
“How do you feel?”
Charles let out a small breath of relief.
Father Gascoigne did not answer at once.
He clenched his fist and punched the air to test his strength.
Then an expression bordering on ecstasy spread across his face.
“Wonderful… This power… I’ve never felt this good before!”
His voice had grown stronger, though beneath it lingered a faint, unnatural excitement.
Reassured, Charles turned toward the far end of the Great Bridge and prepared to continue onward.
He failed to notice what was happening behind him.
Beneath the shadow cast by Father Gascoigne’s broad hat, his pupils were slowly dilating.
A faint, inhuman yellow gleam appeared around their edges.
Under the skin of his neck and the back of his hand, fine gray fur like newly sprouted roots was silently emerging and spreading.
Fueled by the power of Blood Ministration and the turmoil in his mind, the curse of Beast Transformation was quietly accelerating its hold on him…