The Eldritch Files

BANG!

The dead silence of the increasingly oppressive wilderness, where the very air seemed to thicken, was shattered by a single bullet from the northeast.

On a mountain road about three kilometers away, a man in a crisp black trench coat and a black fedora had just arrived. He was the first to spot the lone headlight of a motorcycle speeding toward him on the road below.

He had no trouble identifying the rider as Han Su, who was racing to get back to Qinggang City with the data.

And so, he raised his gun.

At such a great distance, even a sniper with professional equipment would have struggled for accuracy in the dead of night.

Yet he simply held the gun in one hand, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The next moment, he pulled the trigger, simultaneously muttering a nearly inaudible Spell.

This was his specialty: imbuing bullets with his Spiritual Power to adjust their accuracy and execute long-range kills.

By expending even more Spiritual Power, he could also increase the bullet’s destructive force.

In an instant, the bullet shot from the barrel, flying straight toward the distant, racing headlight. A direct hit was impossible, but the round slammed into the asphalt seven or eight meters in front of Han Su’s bike, tearing up a huge chunk of the road.

A moment later, the Investigator straightened up slightly. Projecting his voice with his Spiritual Power, he called out in a low tone:

"Mr. Butcher, I am the Black Star Investigator. I’ve come to escort you. Come with me to see Mr. Drunkard!"

"..."

But Han Su chose to ignore him, simply twisting the throttle harder.

He’d heard the voice, carried to him on spiritual vibrations, but he only scoffed inwardly:

’Black Star? How polite. Announcing himself before the attack?’

"..."

Ignoring the man, he swerved around the scar on the asphalt and continued his mad dash forward, a phantom in the night.

From the northeast, an assistant listening in on the night’s sounds shot to his feet. "Mr. Black Star, he’s not stopping!"

"Then he’s courting death!"

The Black Star Investigator sneered. He strode forward and kicked down a section of guardrail, clearing a path for an armored vehicle. His group piled in. Staring at Han Su on the other road, he yelled, "Go right at him! He’s a dead man!"

"He’s driving right into our trap!"

"..."

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Soon, bullets began to fly through the darkness. Their aim wasn’t perfect, but they were more than enough to keep him on edge.

Han Su, looking for all the world like a desperate fugitive, pushed onward. He relied on his Spiritual Activity, as well as the Spatial Sense and reflexes honed at the Ancient Castle, to pilot Miss Crow’s motorcycle down the highway. He constantly twisted and swerved, dodging one bullet after another.

He could see the cluster of lights in the distance that was Qinggang City, and it seemed to be rushing toward him.

But strange disturbances were popping up all around him, making his flight increasingly difficult.

ZZZAT!

He yanked the front of his bike up, leaping three or four meters over a dazzling ball of electricity that had appeared on the ground.

Someone from the Mechanical Ghost Sequence had made their move.

Han Su continued to race forward, but his tires soon skidded. He had to rely on the strength of his left arm to wrestle the bike back under control.

From all sides, the reek of the sea began to drift in.

Patches of seaweed had actually begun to sprout from the straight asphalt road, like spots of mold.

The power of a Sea Beast.

Han Su glanced toward the source of the sea-stench. It was pitch black, but he could vaguely make out a bizarrely-shaped creature standing in a large patch of weeds. It let out two sinister laughs, and a voice followed:

"Mr. Butcher, my codename is Reef. I’m also here to invite you to see Mr. Drunkard!"

"..."

As his voice faded, a stronger stench of the sea drifted in from the west, from the direction of the coast.

Then, one by one, slightly bloated figures rose from the tall grass.

Some were in groups of three, some in pairs, some alone. They fanned out in a line, like Ghosts sprouting from the wasteland itself.

Han Su paid them no mind. Without a word, he charged onward, desperately seeking a path through the closing net.

But the figures approaching him now seemed to give up on pressing the attack. Instead, they leisurely trailed behind Han Su. The number of people converging from all directions was only growing.

They were like predators hidden in the night, their eyes fixed on Han Su.

Further ahead, dazzling lights began to converge like a tide. The roar of engines merged into one as a convoy of armored vehicles sped in from three directions.

The three columns of vehicles merged, forming an even larger convoy that blocked the intersection ahead.

Then, all the headlights switched to high beam, and a blinding tide of light flooded down the straight road toward Han Su.

Behind the lights, figures began to climb out of the vehicles. The metallic clicks of guns being readied echoed from all around.

Three figures stepped forward slowly, barring the road and facing Han Su directly.

The man in the center was Investigator Bai Yang. His face was grim as he spoke in a cold tone, "Newbie Investigator, you shouldn’t have been so reckless."

"Come back with us to see Mr. Drunkard!"

"..."

On his left and right, two others stepped forward and spoke in low voices.

The woman on the left, dressed in a business suit, said coolly, "My codename is Whiskey. Mr. Butcher, hand over the data!"

The man on the right was tall and lanky. He tipped the brim of his hat down slightly and said:

"Codename Cigar. I was the one who sent you the party invitation. To think you’d never truly become one of us."

"..."

Just then, an armored vehicle burst from the weeds to the left. The Black Star Investigator, having cut across from the other road, had caught up.

Farther out, seven or eight motorcycles tore through the tall grass, skidding to a halt and spraying weeds everywhere.

One rider lifted his helmet, his gaze cold. He didn’t announce his name, but simply drew his gun in silence.

The final rumble came from behind. Investigator Feidi and his four Executioners had finally arrived, fitting the last piece into the enormous net. Their eerie headlights pierced the darkness, pinning Han Su in their beams.

In that moment, Han Su felt as if day had broken. Headlights surrounded him on all sides.

Every direction he looked, the glare was so blinding it made him dizzy.

’Just how many people did Drunkard send?’

Han Su did a quick mental tally. He counted six Investigators who had given their names.

That wasn’t counting the junior Investigators who wouldn’t dare speak up in front of these veterans.

And then there were their most trusted aides, the Senior Executors...

Heh...

He took out his phone and glanced at it. No signal.

Seeing his movement under the glare of countless headlights, Investigator Bai Yang, directly in front of him, spoke in a low voice:

"There’s no signal here, Mr. Butcher. Whether you’re trying to send the data or call for help, it’s impossible."

"We’re all colleagues here. Stop wasting your time and hand over the data!"

"Or..."

He paused, then added in a low voice, "Letting that data be destroyed along with you is also an option!"

"No signal is good."

Han Su put his phone away and looked up, staring straight into the headlights. He activated his Spiritual Power, and his pupils seemed to take on an unnatural, magical quality. He forced his gaze past the blinding glare and focused on the faces of Bai Yang, Whiskey, and Cigar in front of the cars.

Then, he began to speak slowly. "I’m an unlucky man. I was born into this kidnapping, and for ten years, all I’ve wanted is to find a way to survive. I have no desire to make enemies, no desire to compete with anyone."

"But I have things I need to do. Anyone who stands in my way will be considered a willing participant in this war."

"But before the first person dies tonight, I want to say one more thing..."

"..."

"..."

Han Su’s voice wasn’t loud. It sounded less like a proclamation to the others and more like he was talking to himself.

The men who had him surrounded were all frowning now.

The more impulsive among them were itching to shoot him right then and there. They didn’t understand why they were wasting time with words when they had him completely surrounded.

But the more senior members were considering the bigger picture.

He was trapped; there was no way for him to turn the tables. The best option was to force him to hand over the data and then bring him to Mr. Drunkard.

Or, perhaps, have him commit suicide.

In short, the fewer marks they left on him, the easier the report would be to write afterward.

Still, they were facing a star Investigator who had recently been making waves. No one knew what a man like this might do if cornered. Could he take a few of them down with him? No one dared to be careless, and they watched his every move.

But none of them noticed that the fog around them was getting thicker.

A dense fog had, at some point, begun to rise from all directions. It shrouded the headlight beams in a thick, heavy vapor, gradually obscuring Han Su’s figure, which was caught in their intersecting glare, until only a blurry shadow remained.

From deep within the fog, the roar of an engine echoed, sounding both real and illusory.

’Who in the world was revving an engine at a tense moment like this?’

"This is bad!"

Investigator Bai Yang was the first to realize something was wrong. His figure flashed forward as he yelled, "He’s summoning the fog! He’s using it as cover to escape..."

They had the numbers; they weren’t afraid of Han Su turning the tables on them.

But they were genuinely worried. What if this junior Investigator had some trick up his sleeve and managed to slip through their encirclement?

As he shouted, he prepared to summon a great wind to blow the fog away. But before he could even recite the Spell, he was struck by a violent blast of wind to the face.

He snapped his head up and saw a nightmarish sight. The fog before him was being parted, and the towering, terrifyingly monstrous front of a vehicle was suddenly bearing down on him from within the mist.

Han Su was crouched on the front of the vehicle, looking down on them. His eyes were ice-cold. His voice, carried by Spiritual Activity, reached everyone’s ears:

"...this battlefield is one *you* forced your way into!"

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