Under the overwhelming barrage, the Black Mist curled upward into the sky.
As Hecarim and his men withdrew, Miss Fortune knew this was nothing more than a brief chance to catch their breath.
Even so, Lucian’s relic pistols had thoroughly captured her interest.
Miss Fortune stared intently at the guns in Lucian’s hands and asked excitedly, “Hey, where’d you buy those pistols?” Having been born into a family of gunsmiths, she’d loved firearms since childhood, and Lucian’s twin pistols fascinated her.
Lucian fell silent.
“We need to get out of here, fast. The Shadow of War will be back soon.” Lucian’s expression was grim.
He understood the brutality of Hecarim and his Iron Order better than anyone present.
“Listen to him. He’s right, we need to move,” First Mate Rafen urged.
He was genuinely worried his captain might decide to go after that monster and fight him to the death.
“But…” Miss Fortune still hesitated.
“Sometimes retreating doesn’t mean you’re backing down or being a coward,” Levi said.
“It just means avoiding pointless sacrifices.”
She looked at the men who had suffered heavy losses.
Their clothes were torn to shreds, their chests heaving as they struggled for breath, yet savage determination still burned in every pair of eyes.
If another wave of undead attacked, they would fight with everything they had.
Most people might see them as vicious criminals who would do anything for money, but when the danger had been greatest, these same men had risked their lives alongside her.
She couldn’t send all of them to their deaths because of her own revenge.
Sarah nodded.
She knew that forcing them to keep fighting would only lead to more casualties.
“All right.
You’re right.” Miss Fortune let out a long breath, then looked at Levi and asked quietly, “Are you coming with us?”
Lucian raised his pistols again, a trace of anger in his voice.
“There’s someone here called the Chain Warden, Thresh. I have to deal with him myself. If I can’t put him in the ground, then I don’t have any reason to keep living.”
Sarah knew that look in Lucian’s eyes all too well.
It was the hatred of someone who had lost the person dearest to them, the same hatred that had remained on her face ever since her mother’s death.
“If you die here, I don’t think Senna would be able to rest easy. We should find somewhere safe and recover first.”
Levi patted Lucian on the shoulder.
He knew how deeply Lucian and Senna loved each other, but that was no reason for Lucian to throw his life away here.
Lucian lowered his pistols and said noncommittally, “Is there anywhere in this city that’s still safe?”
“Luckily, I happen to know somewhere,” Miss Fortune said firmly.
Levi suddenly remembered it, and the two of them spoke at the exact same time.
“Find Illaoi!”
They looked at each other and smiled, their next destination decided.
Following Sarah, the group left Cutpurse Square.
The once-bustling streets had been devastated.
Even Sarah’s men, who ordinarily spent their days robbing, brawling, and causing trouble, were now cursing the cruelty of the undead.
Corpses lay scattered across the streets among the shattered remains of buildings, leaving nothing but desolation behind.
“What the hell is that?”
One of the men shouted and pointed toward a large sheet of canvas hanging from the corner of a building’s eaves.
Something inside it was twisting and thrashing.
A stream of profanity came from within in a thick Freljordian accent, foul enough to make anyone listening want to kill the speaker on the spot.
Sarah raised her pistol and aimed at it.
Levi stopped her before she could fire.
“Don’t shoot. That’s a living person. He’s still alive. Get him down.”
Taking the sword Sarah handed him, Levi slashed through the canvas holding the man aloft.
A huge, muscular man crashed heavily to the ground, his body covered in wounds.
He staggered upright in a daze, swaying as he let out a drunken belch.
The overpowering mixture of alcohol and sweat coming off him nearly knocked Levi unconscious.
“Hey, buddy, which way to the Slaughter Docks? I’m going to fight the ghost of that Krakenwyrm to the death.”
The man had an enormous, bushy yellow beard.
He swayed unsteadily as he pulled two large axes from behind his back and gave Levi a puzzled look.
Now that Levi had learned Vicious Strikes, there was no mistaking who this was.
This was one of the League’s most infamous reckless lunatics, Olaf the Berserker.
Levi stared at him speechlessly.
“Are you actually trying to get yourself killed?”
“Of course I am. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Dying gloriously in battle is my greatest wish in life.”
Olaf slapped himself on the chest without a second thought.
His massive voice sounded like a busted bell, as though what he’d just said were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Sarah laughed.
“Well, looks like we’ve got no shortage of people trying to die tonight.”
Olaf decided to follow them until they encountered a sufficiently powerful evil spirit, at which point he intended to die gloriously in battle.
Sarah naturally had no objection to him coming along, though she had nothing to say about the whole “glorious death” part.
They fought countless battles along the way.
By the time they reached Serpent Bridge, fewer than half of their original number remained.
Watching her men die one after another throughout the journey had left Sarah with a knot of rage inside her and nowhere to release it.
Faced with these terrifying spirits, ordinary mortals truly seemed powerless.
Serpent Bridge lived up to its name.
It twisted and curved like an enormous snake, while the railings on either side rose and fell like surging waves, stretching all the way to the opposite end.
Levi noticed an unusually shaped building on the far side of the bridge.
There wasn’t a single straight line anywhere in the entire structure, giving it a bizarre appearance.
Its strange curves made it seem as though it were constantly in motion, as if one day it might simply uproot itself and wander somewhere else to settle.
A crooked spire stretched into the air like the tusk of a narwhal.
At its peak was a spiral symbol identical to the pendant hanging around Miss Fortune’s neck.
A faint glow surrounded the symbol, and wherever its light reached, the darkness retreated.
This had to be the temple of Nagakabouros, the god worshiped by Illaoi.
“That’s the Temple of the Bearded Lady, the House of Nagakabouros,” Miss Fortune said, pointing toward the strange building.
Just as Levi had thought.
Rafen leaned against the railing and looked into the distance.
The Black Mist had already swept deep into the heart of the city.
He couldn’t help sighing.
“The Black Mist gets worse every year. At this rate, it won’t be many more years before it swallows the entire city.”
“The Black Mist comes back every year?” Olaf asked, suddenly excited.
“Of course,” Rafen answered bitterly.
Olaf’s eyes widened, and a huge grin instantly spread across his filthy face.
“You mean I get another chance? If I don’t manage to die this year, I’ll come back next year!”
“Come back for what? Your own funeral?” Levi shot back.
“Thank you! That’s wonderful! I appreciate the blessing, my friend!”
Olaf was delighted.
He slapped Levi on the back with one enormous hand, and the sheer force nearly knocked Levi over the side of the bridge.
Boom!
A gigantic undead Krakenwyrm stretched out one of its enormous tentacles and smashed apart a huge section of buildings with a single blow.
Olaf’s eyes went wide.
There wasn’t a trace of fear in them.
Only joy.
“YES! A giant monster! Nothing survives wherever it goes!”
Olaf let out a wild yell, jumped onto the railing, and without the slightest concern for the sheer cliff below, launched himself over the side.
In an instant, he plunged into the Black Mist and vanished from sight.