There was no time for extensive thought; Elyon had to prepare for the worst-case scenario. He prodded the drunkard who was feigning death in front of him and whispered low.
"Brother, I'll count to three, and we run together. Two have a better shot at escaping than one."
"Got it," the drunkard nodded, having no better plan.
"One, two, three, charge!"
On cue, the drunkard sprung to his feet and dashed towards the estate's perimeter, his sudden movement catching the superhuman off guard. It was astonishing that anyone could still run after witnessing the blood ritual and the proxy descent of the Underworld God. The superhuman, with speed no ordinary man could match, chased after him like a cheetah, rapidly closing in. The drunkard glanced back, his fear palpable, and shouted towards the stage, "Mate, even if I'm just a decoy, why aren't you running? Once he gets me, you're next!"
The superhuman was startled; to have even one person slip through the net was strange enough, but to have another, especially one reeking of alcohol, likely numbed by drink, was inexplicable.
Elyon had already leaped onto the stage, untying the blood-covered Cor, ready to carry him off. Cor, who had not directly witnessed the monstrous arrival, seemed to have fainted from shock and fever. Elyon, eager to escape this hellish place, was about to hoist Cor over his shoulder when the drunkard's shout drew the superhuman's attention to him.
"Um, if I say I'm just passing by, would you believe me? Or you could just continue," Elyon said, the awkwardness evident in his voice.
The superhuman, unconvinced by Elyon's words, cut down the drunkard and, scythe in hand, charged towards Elyon.
"Alas, I had thought to spare you, but you're not making it easy. Who carries a scythe around these days to cosplay as the Grim Reaper? A bit too adolescent, don't you think?" Elyon commented, then quickly drew his pistol. Bang! The gunpowder-propelled copper bullet shot towards the superhuman. Unfortunately, luck and aim were not on his side, the bullet hitting the ground near the superhuman's feet, but it was enough to startle him, causing him to hastily retreat and continue to eye Elyon warily.
"I missed that time, but I won't miss the next," Elyon continued with his banter, aiming carefully amidst the scant light from the few gas lamps in the courtyard.
Bang, bang, bang. Elyon fired thrice, but the superhuman dodged each shot. Elyon's poor marksmanship was a serious concern against a moving target at a distance.
"You've got two shots left. Miss, and it's my turn. How do you like being toyed with?" The superhuman seemed calm and confident that Elyon would not hit his mark.
"Just because you say 'shoot,' doesn't mean I will. That would be quite the loss of face for me. I called for reinforcements before I got here. I'll just stand still, and you come closer, then I'll shoot. I can afford to wait. The ones coming for you aren't just from the Special Actions Division; the city's defense forces are on their way, too. I even brought the commander's daughter along."
Considering Elyon's words, the superhuman began to have second thoughts. If Elyon's claims were true, he'd have to face the fury of a saint, or perhaps even a demigod personally. He didn't have the courage to stay, but fleeing from a rookie would be undignified. He decided to bet on finishing the fight within five minutes.
"I'm going to go all out now. You'll pay for mocking me." He announced, transforming into a swirling mist, accurately described as a semi-transparent cloud, surging towards Elyon. In about three seconds, it would envelop him. Without hesitation, Elyon leaped off the stage.
Bang, bang. As Elyon had anticipated, the bullets passed harmlessly through the mist. It drifted in front of Elyon and condensed into a human form. Whoosh! A fist aimed at Elyon's face, too fast to evade. Elyon raised his arms reflexively to block the blow.
He wasn't sent flying or knocked back. He felt a numbness in his arms, but the superhuman's strength was only marginally greater than his own, and it seemed he had to materialize to attack. Elyon now had a plan.
The superhuman was taken aback, having expected his punch to be decisive. Fully materialized, he leaped towards Elyon again, initiating a barrage of punches.
Whoosh went the fists through the air, Elyon deftly dodged the direct hit, and the superhuman's right fist punched a large hole in the edge of the wooden stage.
"Wow, I reckon getting hit by you would knock me out cold, if not kill me," Elyon remarked, eyeing the hole just a thumb's width from his forehead.
"Enough talk. Either let me kill you or try to kill me," the superhuman said, not interested in further conversation. He pulled back his right hand and prepared to strike with both fists, aiming to block Elyon's escape.
Elyon grinned, preferring a physical fight to his opponent dodging indefinitely. He used his two-to-three-pound pistol as a blunt weapon, smashing it against the superhuman's outstretched arm.
"Ahh!" A scream rang out. Elyon's magazine was dented, but the superhuman fared no better.
"How underhanded! Is that how you use a pistol?" The superhuman transformed back into mist, retreating before reforming on the stage. It looked like he was planning to take Cor hostage. "Never mind, if I can't kill you, I'll kill the kid." He raised his foot, ready to kick Cor.
Bang! A bullet from Elyon's pistol pierced the superhuman's left shoulder, close range reducing the margin of error. Just as Elyon prepared for a second shot, the superhuman turned into mist and floated away towards the main building.
"Pity I couldn't finish you off," Elyon said, watching the superhuman escape.
"Brother, you're a badass! Didn't expect you to be this tough," a male voice drifted from not far away. The plump man on the ground turned over, dusting himself off.
"You're not dead?" Elyon asked, curious. This plump man had survived three close calls today.
"Back home, they say I have strong luck. He was in a rush to chase you and only gave me a slash. Luckily, the fat's thick, didn't reach any organs. Mind giving me a hand with bandaging? If this keeps up, I might bleed out."
After looking around to ensure there were no enemies, Elyon moved Cor to a bench by the stage, then tore his cloak into long strips.
"Take it off; I can't deal with it wrapped up like that."
"Sure thing, I knew you were a good guy."
The plump man shed his cloak, revealing a black suit underneath. He tossed the suit aside, and a metallic thud sounded as a chunk of iron hit the ground. Elyon saw that the suit had been lined with an iron plate, accurately two plates that had been diagonally cut.
"You survived because of this?"
"Heh, this thing saved my life back in the North Continent. Those natives don't know where they get all sorts of firearms; it can block a smoothbore gun."
The wound on the plump man's stomach wasn't deep. Elyon hastily bandaged him up, and after expressing his thanks, the plump man took off. Elyon didn't stop him; the man wasn't inherently evil. All Elyon wanted was to quickly carry Cor to the carriage where Emma was waiting and flee. The chaos wouldn't last, and once they regrouped, the remaining twenty or so would be hard to beat.
Turning back to the bench where Cor had been, he was gone, his blood still staining the bench. Where was the boy?
"Lean to the left," a voice suddenly echoed in Elyon's mind, followed by a chilling sensation more terrifying than the sight of that giant hand in the sky.
Elyon rolled to the side, throwing himself to the ground as a streak of red light whizzed past, and with a thud, a crimson trident buried itself half a yard deep into the courtyard's earth. Moments ago, the ground had been intact, but now it resembled the aftermath of a mortar strike. Flying debris peppered Elyon, leaving small cuts across his body.