Germain felt the searing heat from the Lord of Crows' skin and flesh, as if the fire coursed through its body, radiating from within.
He sensed the pulse of the beast's breathing, its organs crammed together in a tight, scorching space.
Without hesitating, Germain rubbed his fingers together, and a bronze flamethrower materialized in the Lord of Crows' abdominal cavity, pressing against its pulsating internal organs.
As lightning crackled above, the Lord of Crows seemed to realize its impending doom, launching another attack at Germain with its beak, sharp as a dagger. It struck down with lethal force.
Germain pulled the trigger.
The roar of high-temperature flames erupted from within the Lord of Crows, igniting its blood and flesh. The blaze shot out from its open beak, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning meat.
At that moment, Germain released his grip and kicked off the Lord of Crows' wings, using the momentum to push himself away and fall to the ground.
The Lord of Crows, now engulfed in flames, didn't pursue him. But the smaller crows continued to swarm, forcing Germain to dive into a dense stand of towering reeds. He tumbled into the mud, sinking deep, almost to his thighs.
To avoid sinking further, Germain flattened himself against the mud, staying as still as possible. Thankfully, the smaller crows didn't attack him again.
The burning Lord of Crows crashed down, landing with a thunderous impact in front of Germain and the reed forest. Mud flew everywhere, and the reeds caught fire, quickly spreading the flames. Thick smoke rose, filling the air.
The smaller crows circled overhead, their cries a mix of despair and rage. Instead of attacking, they flew back toward their nests deeper in the reed forest.
Germain reached out and grabbed a wing from the Lord of Crows, who had stopped moving, using it to pull himself free from the mud. He crawled out, his body caked in mud and covered with scars. Standing aside, he watched the Lord of Crows burn.
Most of the beast's eyes were shut, but one remained open, a fiery scarlet orb glaring out from the charred body. It looked like a single burning eye, witnessing its own demise.
Germain glanced at his left arm, where three smaller eyes had once been. Now, only deep cracks remained, seeping black pus.
Germain felt a mix of relief and exhaustion. He had survived, but his current condition made further exploration out of the question.
The Dark Continent is treacherous, not just because of its terrifying, unknown creatures, but also due to its sheer vastness. Once you go too deep, you stretch your supply lines to the limit.
The journey ahead was filled with uncertainty. It was unclear if the advanced exploration teams would ever return or if the support teams could even keep pace.
If Germain hadn't discovered the "Third Lantern," he would've had no choice but to drag his injured body back along the original path.
A wounded explorer is an easy target, and many previous human expeditions had been decimated here because of it.
In this sense, Germain had been lucky.
After confirming that he had acquired a new "Gift of Resentment," he took it upon himself to extract the one eye from the Lord of Crows' socket.
Holding the eyeball, Germain felt the lingering curse and resentment emanating from it. It was fine to hold it for a short period, but if he kept it too long, it would start to mess with his mind and curse everything within a certain radius.
Germain wasn't sure whether the holding limit was three days, three weeks, or three months. But one thing was clear—the eyeball had some serious curse potential.
He figured only someone with mastery over Nen Exorcism or his "Hunter's Badge" could fully cleanse the resentment from the eye.
But Germain had no intention of absorbing the curse. Instead, he placed "The One Eye of the Lord of Crows" in his backpack, hoping he might find someone interested in buying it.
Germain hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and placed the "Third Lantern" near the muddy ground.
The light from the lantern flickered, and the ghostly guide appeared, as if summoned. With one last glance at the reed forest, Germain followed the guide and was instantly transported back to the human world through the lantern's glow.
It was January 14, 2:00 a.m. The world was silent.
In Germain's room at the Opera Hotel, the lantern's light glimmered before fading away. Without much thought, he stumbled out of his room, went next door, and knocked.
He kept knocking, but there was no answer. Just as he was about to give up, thinking Machi was too deep asleep, the light in the room came on, and he heard footsteps approaching.
The door creaked open.
Machi stood there, looking less than pleased. She wasn't in her usual pajamas but was still dressed in her daytime clothes. Her hair was down, cascading messily over her shoulders. Her eyes flashed with irritation.
Despite her usual alertness, Machi wasn't happy about being woken up in the middle of the night.
"I didn't expect you to show up at this hour..." she began to say, ready with some sarcastic remark, but she paused when she saw Germain's state. He was covered in wounds, blood dripping onto the floor, and his robe was smeared with dried mud.
It looked like he'd been in a brutal fight in a swamp.
Machi bit back her words, frowned, and stepped aside, saying, "Get in and lie down on the sofa."
She might have been annoyed, but she was also professional.
Germain followed her instructions, walking into Machi's room. The layout was similar to his own, with a long sofa in the hall. He slumped onto it, letting out a pained sigh.
Machi took out a small cloth bag and crouched next to him.
"I'm going to clean your wounds, stop the bleeding, and then use 'Nen Stitches.' You need to stay still and remain in a state of 'Zetsu,' okay?"
"Zetsu" meant he couldn't use his Nen abilities to defend himself. It was a moment of extreme vulnerability for those who wielded Nen, requiring complete trust in the person providing the treatment.
Germain complied without hesitation, obeying Machi's instructions. He stripped off his soaked and sticky hunter's robe, tossing it aside.
He didn't really trust Machi, but he trusted his own instincts.
"These injuries and the amount of blood you've lost..." Machi glanced at Germain's exposed torso, her voice cold as she cleaned his wounds. "You're lucky to have made it to my door."
In reality, it wasn't just luck. Germain had a "Vitality" of 20 points, which, though not as impressive as his fellow Phantom Troupe member's capabilities, was enough to keep him alive.
Lying on the sofa, Germain felt a bit lightheaded from the journey, but now he was feeling much more alert. His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling as he listened to the sounds of Machi working.
"I'm starting now," she announced.
Machi took out a needle, deftly threading it with astonishing skill. Within moments, her hands became a blur of motion—her fingers, needle, and aura moving so fast they seemed like afterimages.
"The right shoulder is stitched," she stated.
"The left arm is stitched."
"The small wound on the front is stitched. Turn over."
"The small wound on the back is stitched."
Machi had extensive experience with these kinds of injuries. She knew exactly what she was doing. The speed and precision with which she worked would have impressed even the most seasoned surgeons.
In less than ten minutes, Machi finished her work with precision and finesse. Her "Nen Stitches," capable of connecting even nerves, would ensure Germain's wounds healed swiftly and properly.
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