Chapter 738: Headhunting Game

Chapter 738: The Headhunting Game

The desert camel-walker let out a low growl, conveying orders to the surroundings on behalf of the commander perched upon its back platform.

Immediately after, the rebels began to swarm into the teleportation array hall, their boots trampling the remaining five piles of ash upon the steps into faint smudges.

It was glaringly obvious that the Order Investigation Team within would never receive the courteous reception they had anticipated.

Many of them would perish in the impending direct clash, while others would be captured alive, though that merely meant changing the venue and the scene for a "staged death."

The desert rebels had chosen the most brutal form of confrontation.

They ignored the prestigious renown of the Church of Order, and they trampled upon the dignity of the Church of Order; yet absurdly, when they acted thus, the vast majority of the Order clerics were instead plunged into a profound sense of helplessness.

Cullen closed his eyes, then slowly opened them once more.

At this precise moment, there was not a shred of rejoicing in his heart, only sorrow.

He could not even be bothered to resent the naivety and stupidity of Yamrek, the vice-captain, nor did he have any interest in putting himself in the leader's shoes to ponder how the situation might have changed.

Once the cruel reality had transpired, one truly lost all inclination to dwell on such useless matters.

"Our side will break out first to draw the attention of the perimeter, especially those sand eagles in the sky. Richard, you run out first. Canna, get on Richard's back and protect him."

Richard immediately bent down, and Canna leapt onto his back; then, Richard jumped down from the rooftop outpost where the four of them had been hiding, his form dissolving into a black mist as he began to run.

The main attention of the rebels here was focused on the teleportation array hall, but the sand eagles above quickly caught the anomalous movement on the other flank, and three of them instantly dove toward Richard.

The desert believers upon the eagles' backs raised their crossbows and spell-firearms, shooting down at the mass of black mist.

The vast majority of the ranged attacks were evaded in advance by Richard, who relied on the acute perception of Little Jerry within his body, yet two crossbow bolts still struck him, only to be deflected by Canna upon his back.

Little Canna murmured, "That hurts a little bit."

Swiftly, the three sand eagles descended in altitude, preparing for a close-quarters kill.

Suddenly, Philomena appeared above one of the sand eagles, a blade in her right hand, severing the heads of the two desert clerics atop

One could only pray that this suddenly manifested bone dragon would not shatter at the first impact.

Yet Kanna was, after all, Kanna; she boasted not only a pure and noble lineage but also the heritage of the rebellious Dragon God, and most importantly... if the fearsome physique of the dragon race was their proudest asset, then the constitution of a bone dragon was universally acknowledged as the pinnacle.

For they bore not a single shred of flesh upon their frames—they were, in the most literal sense, hardened to nothing but bone!

Little Kanna’s eyes flushed crimson, and at that moment, her mind flashed back to the countless pills she had been forced to swallow day after day for so long; were it not for the sake of growing up healthy, how could she have ever compelled herself to ingest such foul-tasting things daily?

Now was the moment to prove that she had not endured that bitter medicine in vain.

"Boom!"

Like a sledgehammer, it smashed right through the wall.

Karen, Philomena, and Richard were all nestled within the interlocking crevices of the bone dragon's skeleton, and Kanna had sealed off that specific area of bone, doing her utmost to shield them from the brunt of the collision.

Even so, Karen and the others still felt a violent, shuddering tremor, but soon enough, it became clear through the gaps that they had successfully broken through; the bone dragon was flying at terminal velocity, and the cityscape beneath them had vanished, replaced by an boundless, trackless desert.

Richard burst into loud laughter: "Haha, we made it out!"

Karen, however, let out a soft sigh, his thoughts drifting in worry to the other groups who had attempted to break through, wondering if they would succeed, and hoping that as many of them as possible would manage to escape.

As for his own side, they had already done everything within their power.

Having vented his initial joy of escape, Richard immediately retrieved a map from his satchel: "Karen, let us head here next; we have a secret intelligence post at this location, and once we arrive, we can secure assistance."

"A secret intelligence post?"

"Yes, it belongs to the external intelligence network of the Whip of Order. I conducted a thorough investigation and planned this before my arrival. Oh, right, the others weren't authorized to access this classified information, so I sought Mr. Alfred's permission and applied to review it in your name; your official seal is kept with Mr. Alfred, so a single stamp was all it took."

When it came to intelligence work, Richard truly possessed a natural genius.

"Then we shall head there."

Escaping the Machina Holy Ground was merely the first step; what lay ahead was to hasten toward the nearest major city under the control of the desolate wasteland.

Yet this desert was vast and featureless, in no way inferior to the sprawling ocean they had once drifted upon, and its conditions could even be described as far more hostile; without the aid of local guides and a proper team, the efficiency of their march and relocation would be miserably low.

Suddenly, Richard’s expression hardened, and he pointed immediately toward their rear: "Someone is pursuing us, moving at extreme speed—not a large force, but it is more than one person!"

The fleeting relief of their successful escape was instantly snuffed out, though it did not quite plunge them into panic or despair.

Karen said: "Extend your perception further, be precise."

"There are several distinct auras in total, and the closest four are closing fast." Richard closed his eyes, "Their speed is a match for ours, perhaps even greater; we cannot outrun them, and being overtaken is only a matter of time."

Little Kanna’s voice echoed directly from deep within her ribcage: "The dragon race has never been renowned for mere speed."

Evidently, Little Kanna assumed Richard was subtly mocking her slowness.

Karen spoke up immediately: "Even if they cannot overtake us, allowing them to hang onto our tail like this is highly disadvantageous; there might be other rebel forces operating in this vicinity, and they could easily relay our coordinates."

Philomena remained silent, waiting quietly for her orders.

Karen smiled, though his gaze gradually grew dark and menacing; having endured a bellyful of grievances from Yamrek, then witnessing the investigation team being cornered, and now being tracked continuously after fleeing for their lives, Karen's emotions had, in truth, been suppressed for far too long.

"Since they wish to hunt us, we shall play a proper game with them. They want to play a solitary headhunting game, do they? Then let us all participate.

Richard, you will remain here with Kanna, maintaining the escape flight as the primary target. Kanna, did you hear me clearly? You are to follow Richard's commands and throw no tantrums."

"Understood," came Little Kanna’s muffled response from the ribcage once more.

"In short, Richard, your task is to draw them in, and in doing so, mask the tracks of myself and Philomena."

"Rest assured, I understand; I shall act as the bait." Richard slapped his chest confidently, then tapped his own head, a gesture made on behalf of Little Jerry.

"Philomena, choose a target and execute a stealth assassination. I do not demand absolute success, but I do demand that you stay alive. Remember, I am not sending you out to act as a desperate rearguard; if you die, I will consider it a heavy loss."

Philomena nodded curtly: "Understood."

"Very well, let us begin. Remember to maintain communication; if you detect any rebel forces appearing nearby, recall yourselves immediately. We strike only at those who are isolated; do not engage with groups."

Having delivered his instructions, Karen and Philomena leaped from the skeleton of the bone dragon one after the other.

Richard immediately called out: "Oh, my dear Lord Bone Dragon, pray slacken your pace slightly now, so that our pursuers may see a glimmer of hope and rush forward with greater recklessness; that will grant Karen and Philomena a far better opportunity."

Little Kanna’s voice echoed from within her chest:

"Do not call me Lord Bone Dragon. Please address me as—Miss Kanna White Silva."

...

A man carrying twin scimitars upon his back was cutting through the desert at a breakneck pace, riding atop an octopus that exuded the heavy stench of death.

He was an acquaintance of Karen's, named Rango.

Within his physical vessel resided a powerful soul originating from the Reincarnation Religion within the Gates.

His first encounter with Karen had been upon exiting the Gate of Reincarnation; the second had been outside the Gate, cleaning up the battlefield of death wrought by Inrilirsa; and the third had been upon the deck of a Lunar warship during the war between the Lunar Religion and the Reincarnation Religion.

Karen, are we to meet yet again? I have heard of your exploits; you have done exceedingly well within the Church of Order.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, Rango immediately slowed the pace of the octopus beneath his feet.

He opened his palm, where a black tortoise shell was rapidly fracturing into pieces; judging by the divined patterns of the cracks, he was about to face immense peril directly ahead.

The consequence of slowing his pace meant that he, who had originally been leading the pursuit, would instantly fall behind.

He was entirely willing to lag behind—not because he wished to avoid a confrontation with Karen, but because he preferred to let the others encounter him first.

Having endured consecutive wars against Order and the Lunar Religion, the strength of Reincarnation was a shadow of its former self; within this alliance directed against Order, their standing among the orthodox churches was at the very bottom, and Rango was not only the least visible figure in that circle but was frequently subjected to ridicule.

He bore no malice over this, for the other youths were little more than children in his eyes, but he certainly did not mind watching them suffer a bit of a setback.

"Have your fun, my friends. I shall wait to harvest your heads when it is done."

...

A mass of shadow, moving like a dark spot beneath the blistering sun, shifted at an astonishing velocity before freezing into absolute stillness in the very next instant; from the gloom, the figure of a girl gradually manifested, clad in a fine black gown that lent her an exquisite and beautiful appearance.

Upon the sand dune before her sat a young man, a greatsword thrust into the sand at his feet.

The girl offered a sweet smile: "Demeter Suman, Captain of the Elite Nightwatch Squad of the Goddess of the Night."

The young man replied calmly: "Karen Silva, Head of the Enforcement Department of the York City Region, Church of Order."

Demeter shrugged her shoulders: "I had originally assumed you would reveal yourself by launching a sudden ambush against me."

Karen shook his head: "How terribly cliché that would be."

Demeter laughed aloud, her voice ringing out: "I am here to hunt you down and kill you."

"I am aware."

"But I have changed my mind now, Department Head Karen. If you sleep with me right now, I shall spare your life and let you walk away free, what do you say?"

"Truly?"

"Truly. For a follower of the Goddess of the Night, the greatest taboo is to utter a lie."

As Demeter spoke, she raised her arms, displaying her alluring figure to Karen like a mesmerizing sprite beneath the night sky, radiating an aura that was innocent, lively, and thoroughly enchanting.

"What do you think of my offer, my dear Department Head Karen?"

"I am engaged to be married."

"Oh, this is merely a necessary sacrifice to preserve your life; I am certain that even if your fiancée were to find out, she would understand your plight."

"Yes, she would understand."

"Uh-huh."

"But I cannot understand." Karen clapped his hands and stood up.

"Why is that?" Demetri dropped her arms; above them, a blanket of night had already been summoned by her earlier movements, blotting out the sunlight. "Could it be that I am inferior to your fiancée?"

Karen shook his head.

"You see, you too feel that I am not beneath your—"

"It is not a matter of a slight difference, but rather an insurmountable chasm."

A smile flickered at the corner of Demetri's mouth; even if it was mere playful banter before a battle, as someone with absolute confidence in her own beauty, she was genuinely provoked.

Karen drew the Sword of Diamans from before him,

and said:

"My apologies, my lady. I have tried my best, but I still cannot bring myself to settle for you."