Chapter 187 In front of her - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

The overwhelming malevolence surged towards Lynn as though it were tangible. The bright moonlight reflecting inside the old factory seemed to form a distinct boundary with the aura surrounding him, subtly distorting. Crimson eyes locked onto Lynn, brimming with unrestrained hatred and murderous intent. Lynn furrowed his brow. So that’s it. The shadowy sense of impending danger that had been lurking in his mind since earlier—it all emanated from here. It appeared even the Celestial Order was unaware of the internal infiltration that allowed this demon to don their robes and tail him all the way here. Bor Shuman, the Limb Collector. Though his true face was yet unseen, Lynn was certain the figure before him was the true culprit behind the serial murders he had been pursuing. The mood became tense, like a taut wire ready to snap. After all, the adversary was a Tier Four extraordinary, possibly even on the brink of reaching the fabled Tier Five, Legendary status. Should he reach that threshold, Lynn suspected this might indeed be his final stand. After all, a power equating to Irina's tier would be insurmountable. "Kushu Staine tasked me with sending you his regards." An indistinct voice emerged from the young man's mouth. As expected. Lynn's face curled into a cold smile. His conflict with that deity had ignited back in the Soren Mountain Range, especially after he delivered a full-force Briar Crown as a parting gift. While not lethal, it was humiliating. After all, it genuinely caused that deity some pain, and in the aftermath within Lynn's mental domain, it had rolled about undignifiedly, failing to execute revenge before departing with a nasty remark. Were they of similar hierarchy and tier, it might have been another story. Given Kushu Staine’s wrathful nature, enduring even from a god of the same tier would be inconceivable; it would seek retribution unified in madness. For Lynn, just an insignificant human, the affront inadvertently fueled the deity’s fury further. Not to mention, that wretch had a Sixth Tier demigod protecting him at all times, especially post the battle of Soren Mountain; the tail of a vicious curse had faintly brought forth an unnerving presence perceptible only to it. Presently, Lynn found himself in Gloss Ting, the capital with unparalleled security, far from any demonic influence and under the protection of the Three Gods and the Tree of Holy Spirits. Attacking him here was implausible. At least for this moment, the Limb Collector, a disciple of "Malediction," finally seized a chance to face him alone. A half-step Tier Five against a Tier Two. The odds favored the hunter! With this thought, the Limb Collector's figure flickered, charging ferociously at Lynn from a short distance. "Clang!" The factory resonated with the sparks and drone of clashing metal. In an instant, their positions exchanged. Physical strength comparable to a Tier Four? Upon halting, a look of astonishment crossed the Limb Collector’s face. Though appearing as a mindless demon, he was, in truth, meticulous and exceptionally cunning. It was the only way he could commit thirty-six murders despite relentless pursuit from countless factions. Reflecting on this, the Limb Collector glanced back only to find Lynn’s hands enveloped in a web of jet-black threads, shaped into beastly sharp claws that had sparked the prior collision. Strength somewhat less than expected. But that was without the adversary employing any extraordinary abilities or sealing tools. Feeling the faint numbness in his palm, Lynn gauged the disparity in power. If purely based on physical prowess, he might seize victory in three minutes. Yet, for most extraordinaries, raw power paled in comparison; their true strength lay in the type and quantity of extraordinary abilities and god-given factors. If both unleashed all their extraordinary abilities, Lynn suspected he could not last more than three rounds given his Tier Two level. However, as he had considered before, victory in battle was not dictated solely by stats and abilities; tactics, luck, and external factors were equally crucial. As such, he didn’t believe he was as outmatched as purported. Lynn suddenly recalled the tactic he had once used to compel Kushu Staine to descend into him. Exactly as it sounded. Extraordinaries with faith in "Malediction" often shared their demon’s witlessness. Thus, angering the opponent might grant an advantage in the forthcoming fight. With this in mind, Lynn smiled wryly, "Attacking without a proper greeting—isn't that rather impolite?" "Even if there’s an unresolvable grudge between us, shouldn't formal introductions precede?" Hearing this, Bor Shuman grinned widely, exposing a set of menacing teeth with malevolent eyes fixed on Lynn. "You should have guessed already? Yes, I am Bor Shuman, the Limb Collector." A sinister ripping noise of fabric echoed as several lifelike hands, emitting a cold blood-red glow, rapidly emerged from his body, ripping through the dark priestly robe, exposed to the air. The title of Limb Collector was ascribed to him because of his bizarre modus operandi and combat style. This facilitated the legend of him in becoming a horror tale among the masses. After killing a prized victim, he would sever and stitch the choicest parts onto himself. This ritual made him feel ever more perfect. At this moment, before Lynn stood a monstrosity resembling a bulbous worm harboring countless limbs, stitched grotesquely all over, unsettling to the core. Yet Lynn remained unfazed by the sickening display. In fact, hearing the self-introduction, he cast the Limb Collector a puzzled glance. "You're the Limb Collector? Then who am I?" Given the societal frenzy cultivated by public opinion and official declarations, few across Gloss Ting, beyond those familiar with Lynn, remained ignorant of the emerging narrative. The enigma surrounding the Limb Collector had faded, supplanted by the persona of "Lynn Battlion" as its true face. Most citizens operated as passive recipients of information. Conditioned by authoritarian channels, they uncritically embraced top-down information. Thus, to them, the youngest son of House Battlion was the mastermind behind the series of murders. It aligned snugly with communal folklore. Named the "Disgrace of Nobility," exiled to borders, harboring resentment, looking to retaliate against society—classic psychopath archetype. For Bor Shuman, with but a step towards Tier Five, his rhythm was disrupted by Lynn, breeding immense animosity. Even without the patronage of "Malediction," Bor Shuman and Lynn's enmity was deeply entrenched. So, Lynn's words instantly incited his opponent. Amidst an otherworldly screech, an invisible burst of extraordinary force manifested! The scream pierced like a sharp needle, embedding itself into Lynn’s mind and cruelly stirring. Instantaneously, intense pain overwhelmed him, briefly clouding his consciousness. Seizing the moment, Bor Shuman's limbs morphed, becoming slick tentacle-like appendages, rupturing air towards Lynn’s throat! The Needle of Malevolence, an extraordinary ability particular to "Malediction," was a powerful high-tier single-target control skill. Upon activation, if devoid of defensive or counteractive capacities, or sealing items to resist mental attacks, the target would likely succumb to pain and confusion, losing the will to fight. Most of his prior victims succumbed to this move. Only a few military-trained extraordinaries, with firm resolve, could barely resist. "Boom!" As Bor Shuman's limbs struck the ground, a thick haze of dust erupted. Alas, no sensation of striking was felt. Oh? He evaded? Bor Shuman’s gaze fixed swiftly at a distance, where he sensed a flicker of pain. A thread as fine as a strand of hair, black and tensile like a sword, pierced through Bor Shuman's shoulder, drawing crimson droplets of blood that trickled slowly to the ground. "Unaffected?" he noted with cold detachment, eyes fixed on the distant figure of Lynn. "Or perhaps you've equipped yourself with a high-tier sealing object as a defense?" "Neither," Lynn laughed softly from afar, his figure vanishing and reappearing in a blink. In the instant his position was obliterated by multiple limbs, he let out a curious remark. "Hasn't your boss ever mentioned?" Dodging once again, Lynn let out an eerie cackle, launching himself into the air. He began weaving his endless threads into a spiraled lance in his palm, twisting his body for momentum before hurtling it with the force of a comet. "Such torment only serves to guide me," he taunted. "Whoosh!" A resonant sonic boom, laden with violent winds, shattered the gap between them. Unperturbed, Bor Shuman manipulated his freely transforming limbs to form an unyielding shield of flesh. Upon contact, the black lance appeared to plunge into a viscous gelatin, its kinetic energy wholly absorbed. Lynn leaned slightly aside, narrowly evading an unseen air projectile that whizzed past, embedding into the wall behind him. "Boom!" The ensuing explosion razed the walls to rubble. Absorption of kinetic energy, and its amplified return? How insidious. In this brief clash, Bor Shuman revealed no fewer than three distinct extraordinary abilities. It seemed he had claimed more than just physical parts from slain extraordinaries, but their abilities too. Yet, speaking candidly, both sides had exchanged effectively so far. Despite Lynn’s strength, remarkable beyond ordinary second-tier standards, Bor Shuman had not yet unleashed the full oppressive force typical of a fourth-tier extraordinary. Holding back, perhaps? An unsettling sense of discomfort gnawed at Lynn. As Bor Shuman was the true Limb Collector, there seemed little reason for such restraint. Killing impostors to perpetuate the horror tale and draw fear was his modus operandi's optimal path. However, whether a figment of his imagination or not, Lynn felt as if Bor Shuman was pulling punches. The commotion here would likely draw more powerful extraordinaries soon. In such chaos, unmasking would confirm Lynn's innocence. Curiously, he was confused. But amid the fervor of battle, there was no time for contemplation. Thus, it was time to force an opening. Raising his hand, Lynn snapped his fingers with finality. In an instance, thorns entwined with wailing shadows surfaced over his body, materializing into a scarlet energy halo that radiated outward! Crown of Thorns, activated! Lynn didn't unleash all the amassed painful energy, only a fraction of it. Yet even so, under the tenfold amplification, the unavoidable wave of torment instantly filled Bor Shuman, driving him to maddened convulsions! "Gyah—!!!" Consonant with an inhuman shriek, Bor Shuman's body writhed compulsively, every stitched limb flailing wildly. There was an opening. Lynn slowly elevated his right hand. The lingering dissonance notwithstanding, he wasn’t one to shy away from conjectures. At once, the endless threads solidified into another spiraled knight’s lance in his palm. Twisting his body, he launched it! The darkness swiftly followed, cleaving into the flesh with a shrill tear, and under the Crown’s relentless control, propelled Bor Shuman uncontrollably backward. "Boom!!!" A heavy thud resounded as the monstrous, limb-sewn entity impaled violently against the wall, blood oozing profusely. More surprisingly, the limbs that had imposed pressure on Lynn moments before retracted almost poetically into Bor Shuman’s form. The bizarre, worm-like monstrosity vanished. Severely injured, it seemed his life was ebbing away. Lynn strode toward him. Gazing intently, he furrowed his brow in puzzlement. Putting on a show? "Having lost to a mere second-tier, any last words?" Lynn probed, persisting in goading. A fourth-tier such as he wouldn't be bested so easily. Blood dribbled from the pinned Bor Shuman's lips, yet no anger swirled within those eyes. Instead, an evil smirk surfaced. "Do you think plying such provocation will strip me of reason, granting you an upper hand in battle?" Lynn remained silent, focusing intently. Secretly, he tightened his grip on Time's Veil, preparing to trigger its invincibility frame for evasion. "You see, I was never ensnared by your transparent taunt," Bor Shuman declared through bloody gags, "Approaching you was but a component of the plan." "And,” he continued, “you've perceived me as a superior force, which isn’t inaccurate." "This means that across all fronts, I exceed you—the atypical second-tier—by far." "This obviously includes perception." A riddle-like smile curled upon Bor Shuman’s visage. Now, stripped of his bodily extensions, he appeared merely an extraordinary clad in the Celestial Order’s black robe, impaled against the wall. Not far away, the ground bore witness to a dozen unconscious extraordinaries, caught incidentally in the maelstrom of their battle, fates uncertain. Even the Fourth Prince, Joshua, had succumbed, unconscious. The whole scene painted a grisly tableau—a massacre in progress. Lynn, suspicion mounting, grimaced slightly. "Someone’s... arrived." Bor Shuman’s murmur echoed. Simultaneously, a distant window shattered violently. Bathed in moonlit radiance, a slender figure descended, reminiscent of a goddess borne of the moon, causing time to halt. In that moment, Lynn read profound disappointment and wrath in the girl's gaze—alongside a barely discernible tinge of sorrow.