Two large-caliber shotguns blasted point-blank, spewing endless flames and steel pellets. They resembled two glowing molten hammers, relentlessly pounding the Bone Gobble Joker as it tried to rise from the ground. The once pristine and soft White Lead surface was instantly riddled with bullet holes and awash with freely flowing blood.
Of course, even if its transcendent abilities were sealed, its solidified physical constitution was not. Covered in blood and riddled with blackened bullet holes, the Bone Gobble Joker, joints creaking like a wooden puppet, desperately shook its head, struggling to get back up and counterattack.
"Shoot again!"
"Shoot again!"
Byron and Violet, however, did not stop. Standing right above it, they reloaded with a speed far surpassing ordinary Musketeers, firing shot after shot from their two Deck Cleaners. This kept the Bone Gobble Joker in a posture as if it had just fallen from the sky, lying on the ground, convulsing wildly. Even if the creature's bones were tough and its blood thick, without its ability of Transformation, it was no stronger in combat than a fluffy baboon. Soon, the blood flowing on the ground had gathered into a putrid rivulet. If a passerby witnessed the scene, it would look like a pair of ruthless partners bullying an old, feeble, and incredibly cunning person who simply refused to die.
But the Bone Gobble Joker was ultimately not Redbeard Edward. Byron believed that if it was shot enough times, thoroughly enough, it could definitely be killed. If one round wasn't enough, then ten; if ten weren't enough, then a hundred.
However, after the two of them had fired four volleys in a row, most of the other several dozen head-balloons that had fallen from the sky—except for a few Unlucky Ghosts who hadn't managed to reconstitute their bodies in time and died on the spot from excessive bleeding—reverted to Human form. These twenty-odd individuals, who didn't need transcendent abilities like being dismembered to survive, charged at Byron and Violet, preventing them from calmly continuing their suppressive fire.
With an exchange of glances, they quickly reassigned tasks. Within the anti-magic zone, Byron's role had completely flipped in an instant, making him the undeniably strongest combatant in the arena. He tossed his Deck Cleaner aside, drew his sword, and proactively charged the attacking clowns.
"Breathe..."
The transcendent ability of the Stormchild was sealed, but the wisps of white breath between his lips and nose were purer and more vigorous than ever. Every muscle, every fascia, every organ in his body aligned with the cadence of his breathing, their Power quietly integrating. It was as if the Power of all 639 muscles and 6,000,000,000 muscle fibers in the Human body had transformed into a rolling, warm current flowing freely through him with every breath.
For an eighteen-year-old's body, with a theoretical peak of 100 percent, a normal person utilizing 30 percent would be considered adequate. An experienced Swordsman could, at most, exert 50 percent. But Byron, at this moment, could not only harness 100 percent of the Power contained within his body but could also use Flow State, an operating system-level enhancement. This allowed him to momentarily disable the body's inherent protective limiters, achieving an overload state and raising his theoretical maximum output by at least an additional twenty percent!
Byron's gaze was fierce. He grasped his sword with both hands, lifted it above his head into the standard Rooftop Sword Style, and his footsteps grew faster.
CLANG—!
As his breathing resonated with the artifact Bastard Sword Whitfrost, he found himself within perfect striking distance of the lead clown.
He roared, "Cut!"
A brilliant sword light flashed as he executed a lightning-fast Old Man's Slash, cleaving the clown from head to groin. The blade, capable of easily cutting through steel, severed its bones with no more difficulty than slicing dry kindling. As the clown's bisected body slid apart, finally registering its death, Byron had already stepped over it to face the second enemy. The Bastard Sword, pushed to its limit in a chop, smoothly transitioned into the Hoe Position Sword Style, its tip rising for a vicious Thrust. He brutally impaled two charging clowns on his sword like skewered meat. Scalding blood splattered onto Byron's face, adding to his ferocity.
Suddenly, a gust of wind sounded at his side as another clown fiercely clawed at him. Byron dropped low, using the hilt as a pivot, and twisted forcefully. The two clowns, merely impaled moments before, had their chests ripped open by the blade, their organs spilling onto the ground with a sickening SLOSH. Their deaths were gruesome to behold.
Perhaps because they hadn't consumed enough people, every one of these clowns was tall and thin like a bamboo pole, with a mouth full of sharp teeth and claw-like fingers. But in theory, even the weakest Bizarre was of a non-Human level. An ordinary person, or a Transcendent who had lost their powers, would likely only be able to offer their neck for slaughter when facing such a monster.
The clown's claw missed Byron, but it not only shattered the chocolate-like structures nearby but also tore four long gashes into the soft White Lead ground. And just as it overextended, leaving itself wide open, Byron sliced off its head with a lightning-fast backhand strike.
The four fundamental principles of swordsmanship: judgment, distance, timing, and position. The Storm Sword Technique, utilizing the fastest finger-and-palm strikes, was quick as lightning, leaving even non-Human Bizarres no time to react. Chopping, Thrusting, and cutting—these three most basic Sword Moves, in Byron's hands, transformed the mundane into the magical. A figure wove through the enemy ranks with ease; though facing a horde of savage Bizarres, he moved as if toying with fattened pigs. At that moment, he was like a tiger among sheep, unleashing a maelstrom of blood and gore.
Firearms and cannons indeed allowed Transcendents at mid to Low Orders to exert attack Power far beyond their own limits. But this violated a fundamental principle of the Supernatural World: the only constant is change! Swordsmanship might not seem that impressive initially; even with a high-level Flow State, a practitioner could be limited by poor physical conditioning, like a skilled cook with no rice. Yet, it was the only skill that could accompany a Transcendent to their peak; the higher their Class, the greater the Power they could unleash.
Taking advantage of the anti-magic area, Byron, with his sword alone, firmly held back all the clowns attempting to rescue Koraskin's main body. He suddenly noticed Violet, unable to reload her Firearm in time, affix a Bayonet to its barrel, preparing to fiercely stab the Bone Gobble Joker using Gun Sword.
In his view, a young girl's strength was far too limited. Unless she could awaken Flow State, even if she managed to pierce the opponent's skin, the Bayonet would likely get stuck in its muscle. It's as if she has no idea how slender her own arms and legs are, Byron thought. He, on the other hand, had tested it: his two hands alone could completely encircle the girl's delicate waist, so slender it seemed it might snap. Silently berating her recklessness, he continued to dispatch clowns while offering guidance, "First, focus and complete immersion; second, a goal for which you're willing to pay the price; third, immediate feedback..."
Perhaps the surrounding enemies couldn't stand his arrogance, as they swarmed him from all directions. Spreading their sharp-clawed arms wide, they moved to overwhelm him.
"Bring it on!"
A series of sharp CRACKS echoed from Byron's joints as his height suddenly shrank by a third. The blade of Whitfrost hummed. He gripped it with the "thumb grip," stepped forward in the Rooftop Sword Style, and spun, swinging with all his might. A fiercely cold sword light flashed, pivoting on his hands. Necks, heads, shoulders... In an instant, he had cut down the surrounding enemies until they were all level with him.
SHIIICK—!
Crimson blood splattered wildly, making Byron, standing amid a pile of bisected corpses, look like a god of slaughter.
Secret Sword Technique: No-Thought Spinning Slash—All Beings are Equal!
Everyone was now the same height; thus, all beings were equal.
After that one move, not a single clown could rise again.
Only then did Byron unhurriedly turn back to Violet and continue, "Fourth, because you are fully focused, everyday trivialities are completely forgotten and blocked out." Simultaneously, he strode like a gust of wind towards the Bone Gobble Joker, which was gradually getting up due to the lack of suppressive fire. Without its transcendent abilities, the creature's body, modified by the Capricious Joker, was at least as resilient as a cockroach, perhaps even a tardigrade. Byron wasn't comfortable letting Violet face such a monster alone.
"Fifth, achieving a state of self-forgetfulness…"
But before he could finish all five essentials:
SQUELCH!
Violet had already easily plunged her Bayonet through the Bone Gobble Joker's chest. Its ribs, hard as steel and impenetrable by bullets, had somehow failed to block the Bayonet Thrust.
"Hm? Wait, Miss, have you already broken through to Flow State? Isn't that too much of a coincidence?" And this level of effortless skill didn't resemble a beginner's at all. This made Byron, who had previously thought the girl's learning progress didn't quite live up to her genius reputation, stare in wide-eyed surprise.
But there was no time for further thought. He lunged forward, severing one of the Bone Gobble Joker's flailing claws with his sword. Violet, moving in sync, cut off the other, nodded to him, and casually replied, "Yeah, under pressure, I just naturally broke through."
She appeared calm on the surface, but her cheeks were faintly flushed, as if brushed with a light layer of pearl powder. The ice queen, so cold and almost cruel in front of the Pirates, seemed to have suddenly fallen to the mortal realm.
You said Catherine broke through in two hours? Well, my foundation might be worse, but I actually broke through on the second day! It's been several months. What a dull... idiot he is.
Out loud, however, she said, "That's all irrelevant. Let's get to work."
Now that the troublesome ones were gone, the fearsome duo—one with a Bayonet, the other with a Bastard Sword—proceeded to thoroughly dismember the Bone Gobble Joker, whose blood had nearly drained completely. Byron, still unsatisfied, pried open its head, retrieved the Golden Great Devil Card, and then, with supremely refined swordsmanship, meticulously trimmed flesh from bone.
To describe the scene delicately, if one had to, a certain passage comes to mind:
"Butcher, give me ten pounds of lean meat, not a bit of fat, finely minced;
"Another ten pounds of fatty meat, with no lean, also finely minced; and another ten pounds of inch-gold cartilage, with not a speck of meat on it, also to be finely minced..."
If not for the worry that feeding it to dogs might cause indigestion or some other unfortunate incident, Byron would have been tempted to try this "genius" idea. Perhaps it could pioneer a new method for dealing with the undead. In the end, he resorted to the most reliable old method. He piled together the still-faintly twitching pieces of flesh—which might reassemble into a complete Bone Gobble Joker if they left the anti-magic area—and smashed three or four Molotov Cocktails onto them. A roaring Blaze erupted instantly.
He watched intently as the flames reduced every last cell to ash. The other clown copies were dealt with in the same manner. Only after the Sailing Logbook confirmed that the Bone Gobble Joker's History was completely ended did Byron finally exhale a long breath.
"It's finally over."
Meanwhile, Violet, having run back out of the anti-magic zone, pinched her nose as she turned a filthy, storage-capable pouch inside out. Its contents spilled out with a RATTLE. Apart from items like playing cards, Bombs, balloons, and streamers—various trick props—there wasn't much of value. However, a pile of seemingly useless old Antiques, specially packed in woven baskets, immediately caught her attention. And among this assortment, the Bay Citizen Princess's eyes immediately fell upon an extremely ancient-looking Bayfolk Battle Axe!
"What's this...?"
Confused, she took out this clown Captain's Sailing Logbook. After reading just two lines, she couldn't help but exclaim, "Byron, come and take a look at this!"