"You're pretty brave to walk here on your own." The old man, the Laurel Shaman that served as the leader of the Sect Branch stared at Iota with an incredulous gaze, "Are you not afraid of the hitlist?"
"Try to figure it out yourself." Iota smiled as he stared at the old man, "A Shaman can sense their target's fear, right?"
"So…" He disembarked from the boat and touched the tunnel wall, "Am I afraid?"
"Either you're fearless or you're ignorant." The old man gently tightened the grip on his fishing rod, expanding the string attached to it, lashing out at him. But, moments before it was about to slam into his neck and sever him, it stopped.
Gasp!
The old man's eyes widened in shock as he felt an unbearable itch on his neck while his breathing became laboured. With the passage of every second, the sensation only worsened.
What he wasn't aware of were the fishes around the stumps of his legs. Extending out of the mouths of each was a needle that they stabbed into his legs and injected fish blood into his body.
In the past, the old man had been injured by Larru. When his legs were chopped up, a dense stream of Faith had congregated in the stumps, causing the muscles there to rot like fertilizer. It was so potent that to this day, he was unable to recover, having to constantly churn his Fear to the place.
Only by having his legs immersed in the canal water was he able to be at peace. The Fisherman Devil was an expert in fishing. So, as long as he remained in that state, he was able to absorb Fear from the fishes, albeit faint, but enough to make him feel better.
But, it was just that. He couldn't heal his wounds, no matter what.
The ends of the stumps had long since rotted. He had no sense of pain in the place. As a result, the old man wasn't even aware of the fish blood being injected into his body.
All he felt was the sudden congregation of a mysterious power in his neck that his Fear tried to counter, causing both sides to expend their power.
But the mysterious power continued to accumulate.
Strapped around each of the three fishes were a dozen syringes. Since they had been injected with Iota's blood, they were able to turn the syringes into tattoos one by one, taking their time to inject the contents into the old man's bloodstream.
"What…have you done to me?" The old man glared in anger as a string shot towards Iota, intending to pierce his forehead. But a flash of a blade later, the string was severed.
The old man's attention fell on the crate as he tensed up, staring at the feline eyes peeking at him from within, "A K-Kjallar?"
Plop!
The old man was gripped by fear at the sight of the Kjallar. Fear Path was a double-edged sword. And since he was afraid of a Kjallar, the old man lost all fighting spirit, causing the Fear in his body to become weak, which allowed the fish blood to take effect faster.
As a result, gills formed on his neck and suffocated him. The Kjallar's arm extended and knocked him unconscious.
It seemed like a Laurel Shaman was nothing to fret about, but if not for Iota knowing the old man's abilities and injuries beforehand, it would have been impossible to defeat him so swiftly.
Moreover, through the blood of Royl, Canl, and Menl, Iota harnessed the powers of the Fisherman Devil. Hence, he knew how it functioned and could prepare accordingly.
Despite knocking the old man unconscious, Iota didn't approach him and maintained his distance. At every interval, one of the fishes in the water would inject fish blood into the old man.
The Kjallar splashed water on his gills regularly to ensure he didn't die of suffocation. The old man's unconscious state was maintained.
Only after all the Fear in his body was expended would the drug addiction kick in. So until then, Iota had to keep injecting fish blood into his body.
Bam!
The old man tugged his index finger, unleashing a string that stabbed into the canal and dragged him into it. The moment he woke up, he felt the water dripping down his neck, feeling his gills function as he realised what to do next.
The moment he jumped into the water, he was able to breathe freely. But, there wasn't much he could do after that. He was at the end of the canal while the Kjallar blocked the only way out into the wider streams.
"Don't stress yourself too much, old man." Iota injected Tebula's blood into himself and vomited copious amounts of pesticide into the canal. Picking up the boat's oar, he made waves that pushed the pesticide water closer to the old man.
Splash!
Dozens of strings shot out of the water, intending to impale him but were all slashed by the Kjallar.
The old man was helpless, unable to do anything. The moment he surfaced, it would become hard to breathe. But remaining in water was worse, for he couldn't go past the Kjallar.
Had he been uninjured, he would have been able to face the Kjallar and escape. But with his severed legs, running wasn't an option.
Clanging sounds resounded as strings were severed continuously by the Kjallar's bladed arm. Lured by the sounds, the door leading into the Sect opened as a middle-aged woman peeked out in confusion, "What…is happening…"
"Get inside!" The old man shouted in a hurry as he observed a syringe flying straight at her. He shot out a string that slithered in the air like a snake and rushed at the syringe, intending to block it when a blade severed the string.
The severed thread pieces fell to the ground as the old man stared in dismay; the syringe stabbed into the middle-aged woman's chest as the mysterious contents in it were injected into her body.
Gills formed on her neck immediately as she gasped in suffocation.
"Stop it!" The old man glared at Iota and intended to pull the middle-aged woman into the canal water. But he couldn't even reach her, blocked by the Kjallar.
And by now, his eyes were red, his throat felt sore, and his entire body felt itchy. The pesticide was already affecting him, only worsening his condition. A couple of minutes later, the Fear in his body was wholly consumed.
Following that, a Laurel Shaman turned into a drug addict.