Based on the rule of misfortune: if something has a chance to go wrong, no matter how small the probability, it will inevitably happen. In a fight with these sinister entities that possess special killing rules, a moment of carelessness could spell disaster. This has nothing to do with whether a person is careful and makes no mistakes.
Previously, when the [Shaman Mask] launched a surprise attack on patrolman Jack, he didn't even have time to react and pull the trigger. He was stripped of his facial skin and life without the slightest chance to resist. This time, facing the sudden ambush by the [Cursed Object]'s killing rules, [Hook] had no chance to dodge either.
"Ah!"
Just as the mask attached to his face, its inside sprouted countless sharp barbs that viciously hooked onto his entire facial skin. Immediately, a viscous liquid, like tar and resin, gushed out from the [Shaman Mask], transforming into black feathers, a headdress, a feathered cloak... [Hook]'s exposed skin began to bleed, decay, and fester, turning into a mass of rotting flesh. It was clearly transforming him into the appearance of that Aztec shaman wizard from before. Evidently, its previous victim had likely been altered in the same fashion; the consistent "shaman wizard" appearance was merely the original owner's former image.
It wasn't just the horrific outward appearance; the collective madness of countless deceased individuals radiated from the mask, incessantly flooding his mind. It sought to reshape his very soul into its own image.
"No—! Damn it, don't you dare control me!"
Below the mask, the eyes that belonged to [Hook] blazed with a burning Spiritual Radiance like flames. His spirit erupted to its limits, somehow pushing the viscous, foul-smelling black liquid away from the surface of his body. He then grabbed the edge of the mask with his hand and hook, forcefully tearing at it. Even if it meant losing his right eye, his left hand, and now his face, he was determined to rip off that nefarious thing.
Byron, who had failed to intervene in time, was taken aback. Eh? This seems like... a willpower test? A resistance against its Anchoring?
He, of course, knew that Transcendents who were well-Anchored had much greater resistance than ordinary people when confronting these unnatural creatures. This was especially true when the Transcendent was also burdened by a hefty high-interest loan, a factor that significantly amplified this mystical causal connection. If [Hook] couldn't resist the mask's erosion, he would naturally become a tool for the [Cursed Object]. But if his fate was strong enough and his will sufficiently indomitable, he might manage to subdue this [Cursed Object], responsible for countless murders, and become its new master!
However, you don't look like you have a chance of turning defeat into victory, or even of holding on for long. This became especially apparent when Byron observed [Hook]'s subordinates: well-built, superbly equipped marines, armed thanks to substantial loans. He couldn't help but wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth, feeling even more convinced that [Hook] wouldn't last.
If someone with a sense of the bigger picture were here, they might act differently. Even if they knew this guy was extremely hostile, viewing them as a competitor for scarce resources to be removed, they might still put aside past conflicts. Helping him escape this predicament would be for the sake of conquering the third city-state, Tlacopan, and maintaining the Kingdom's interests. At the very least, they wouldn't kick someone who's down or give them a push from behind. But... do I look like someone with such a broader perspective?
Without a moment's hesitation, Byron turned and waved to the patrol team that was hesitating, unsure whether to fight or flee, "Quick, brothers, open fire! Take advantage of the opportunity Lord [Hook] has created for us! Strike first—aim for his head! Otherwise, if this mask gains the body of a Second Order Transcendent, we'll all be in big trouble. You wouldn't want to betray Captain Hook's sacrifice, would you?"
Meanwhile, he silently thought, Yes, of course I am! It's just that my interests are what constitute the bigger picture. Weakening the York Family is more important than diminishing Castilia. Since the rule of the [Shaman Mask] is to transfer between the killer and the killed upon death, I boldly speculate that if we kill the person before the transfer is complete, maybe we can end this cycle. What if I'm wrong? Hey, it's not my life at risk, so let's try it. What's the harm in trying?
While [Hook]'s subordinates were somewhat hesitant upon hearing Byron's orders, the [Throat Slitter] on the other side almost simultaneously issued the same command.
"Open fire. Grant Captain [Hook] his release."
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!...
Trying to accurately hit the head—oh, I mean, to hit the mask—with a front-loaded smoothbore flintlock gun was a joke. After a volley of concentrated fire, [Hook]'s entire body was riddled like a hornet's nest.
"Heh heh... you... you... good... good..."
Many of [Hook]'s men had followed him for less than a month and hadn't formed any deep loyalty. Worried that one volley wouldn't be enough to destroy the mask, and seeing others take the lead, they unhesitatingly joined in the barrage.
GURGLE. GURGLE...
Before he could finish his last words, the Captain's eyes lost their Spiritual Radiance, and a vast amount of blood sprayed out from innumerable holes. With a thud, he collapsed to the ground. At this point, whether [Hook]'s willpower and Anchoring were sufficient to meet the conditions for conquering this [Cursed Object] no longer mattered. There was no longer any opportunity to find out.
Byron and the [Throat Slitter] beside him exchanged a glance, an odd sense of mutual understanding passing between them. That look confirmed it: neither of them was a good person.
However, it wasn't time for them to breathe a sigh of relief yet. Byron's guess—that killing the host before possession was complete would break the cycle—appeared not to be entirely correct. [Hook]'s blood only sprayed for a short while before it gradually turned into that thick, foul-smelling, viscous black liquid. By the time [Hook]'s body below the neck had completely dissolved, leaving only the masked head, the volume of black liquid far exceeded the total blood volume of ten men. It slithered across the ground, gradually coalescing into pitch-black limbs. These newly formed limbs propped up the [Shaman Mask], which had only managed to corrode half of [Hook]'s head. The entity rose again, transformed into a disgusting, multi-legged corpse monster.
It seemed that because the Death God Apuch held Authority over death, the mask could still exhibit some of its power even by using a corpse. However, in Byron's [Spirit Vision], while it appeared fierce and terrifying on the surface, its spiritual aura was clearly fading rapidly.
[Hook]'s death just now wasn't in vain, Byron thought. Killing its host in time was a partial success. After this corpse creature expends its energy in a final burst, the mask should revert to an inert object.
He immediately waved his hand to beckon the elite pirates, "Firearms and swords are useless against this type of monster! Don't bunch up! Spread out quickly and retreat with me!"
Byron could see it, and so could the [Throat Slitter] beside him. Except, it wasn't as easy for the [Throat Slitter], unlike Byron who had no subordinates present. The [Throat Slitter] dared not let this creature truly rampage on the spot; otherwise, his patrol team's elite would surely sustain heavy casualties. Furthermore, if the mask received an endless supply of corpses, who knew what it might become.
"Quick! You lot go first! Inform General Newman, who's on duty tonight, that we need reinforcements!" Then, like a nimble monkey, he suddenly leaped forward. He stepped on the shadow cast by the torchlight—the shadow of the creature. The [Shaman Mask], which had been about to charge the crowd, froze abruptly as if someone had slammed on the brakes.
In contrast, under the [Throat Slitter]'s assassin hood, veins on his neck bulged as if he were using all his strength to wrestle with a wild bull. He was inwardly shocked, The mask, using the corpse of a Second Order Transcendent to unleash its final burst, is so strong! My [Shadow Assassinate] can barely control it!
His shadow on the ground mirrored his actions, even twisting and deforming slightly from the immense strain. Gritting his teeth, the [Throat Slitter] and his shadow simultaneously unsheathed the daggers at their waists. He swung his blade through the air, while his shadow's dagger abruptly slashed at one of the creature's shadows.
SPLURT!
With a muffled thud, several of the [Shaman Mask]'s black limbs, along with their shadows, fell to the ground. This was [Shadow Assassinate], the Black Sorcery wielded by the Pirate General! This Black Sorcery involved a forbidden ritual: cutting away one's own shadow and transforming it into a preternatural assassin capable of traversing between two and three dimensions. While lacking direct physical offensive power, it could interfere with a target's shadow to achieve bizarre effects impossible in the material world. For instance, stepping on an opponent's shadow could immobilize them, and severing their shadow could injure their physical body. The side effect: the user's skin could no longer endure direct sunlight, or they would dissolve like a shadow in the light. Therefore, the [Throat Slitter], who seemed somewhat gloomy on the surface, always kept himself hidden under a dark hood. He only dared to expose a bit of his skin at night.
But his mastery of Black Sorcery was clearly not yet complete. The creature strained against the pull of its shadow, dragging itself step by step towards him. Closer, and closer it came. The horrific stench filled his nostrils, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. Meanwhile, the other pirates from the patrol hadn't fled very far.
No, my spirit is about to give out! Even if the team suffers losses, it's still better than sacrificing myself. Shadow, retreat!
Just as the [Throat Slitter] decided to dispel his Black Sorcery, intending to flee towards the camp and use the slower ordinary pirates as bait to ensure his own survival—
WHOOSH—!
A gust of wind suddenly swept past him. Under everyone's astonished gaze, Byron actually charged head-on at the maimed, multi-legged monster, not forgetting to shout, "For General Newman! For His Majesty the King!"
It was Byron. Having observed everything with [Echoes of History], he had chosen this moment of the corpse creature's utmost weakness to strike decisively. Byron's gun drawing was fast, but his kill-stealing was even faster! He now also wore an eagle-beak amulet around his neck, appearing as if he had taken on the role of a native [Eagle Spirit Warrior]. In reality, he was primarily utilizing the [Eagle Spirit Warrior]'s abilities—high-speed flight and summoning gales—which were stylistically similar to those of a [Storm Knight]. This was purely for disguise. Although one could cultivate any number of forbidden knowledge paths simultaneously if willing to bear the side effects, the drawbacks of the [Eagle Spirit Warrior] path were significant, yet it offered little enhancement to his actual combat prowess. For instance, Wayne Dote, who had just become an [Eagle Spirit Warrior], was now afflicted with farsightedness, unable to clearly see anything within half a meter.
Empowered by [Child of the Storm], Byron weaved through the flailing, clumsy limbs, avoiding contact with the foul-smelling corpse fluids. He drew his firearm with lightning speed, showcasing the skill of the fastest gunslinger among the Low Sequences. A hail of bullets, each striking the [Shaman Mask] squarely between the eyes. His shots forced it back with incessant whimpers, earning him grateful glances from the many pirates.
At this moment, he was like a hero!
"'The [Sea Hunter] is as loyal as the legends say! What a good man!'"
Meanwhile, the [Throat Slitter], who had painstakingly weakened the monster to its limit only to find himself at his own, finally gave up. "You motherf***er, son of a b***h..." he started to curse, but his words were instantly drowned out by thunderous cheers:
"[Sea Hunter]! [Sea Hunter]!..."
Yet Byron hadn't risked actually killing the creature outright. Instead, like a mouse playing with an elephant, he continuously attacked and evaded, drawing out the fight until the corpse creature finally exhausted its spirit and collapsed on its own. Only after confirming there were no further issues did he retrieve the Skull Mask from the puddle of corpse fluid.
At that moment, he finally realized where that very familiar sense of déjà vu he had experienced earlier was coming from.