After establishing a spiritual link with the Ebony Capricorn and borrowing its "eyes" to perceive the world, Leon began to comprehend how the demonic entity could pinpoint the Bandaged Woman's location across two city blocks.
Within his soul perception radius spanning approximately two kilometers, every human spirit radiated distinct chromatic signatures - not mere physical hues of red or yellow, but metaphysical tones transcending mortal vision, a spectrum only perceptible to awakened souls.
Souls brimming with joy burned with crystalline brilliance, while those twisted by malice smoldered in turbid darkness. Yet the towering figure wrapped in medical tape before him presented a paradox: her spiritual flame blazed with solar radiance while containing abyssal shadows. Light and darkness were distinctly demarcated yet perpetually locked in ferocious conflict, making her spectral signature instantly recognizable among the sea of dull gray souls.
The compassion, warmth, and genuine kindness she'd shown him were unquestionably authentic. Yet equally real were the glacial ruthlessness, searing hatred, and madness coiling in her shadow self. Leon struggled to comprehend how such diametrically opposed forces could coexist without mutual annihilation within a single soul.
...
"Impressed, whelp?" The Ebony Capricorn's voice snapped Leon from his reverie. Misinterpreting his silence as awe-struck wonder at the newly acquired soul vision, the demon puffed out its chest with an air of superiority. "Though currently... inconvenienced, I was once numbered among the Archfiends! A mere glance could ignite malignant desires in millions! Even diminished to this pitiful state, my power remains peerless!"
"Indeed," Leon nodded, blending sincerity with calculated flattery. "The soul perception alone - detecting spirits within two kilometers - proves invaluable. With this, tracking the Rampant Corruptor becomes feasible."
The demon's obsidian horns lifted in pride. Though its current combat prowess couldn't overpower a pitchfork-wielding peasant (a humiliation best forgotten), its auxiliary abilities remained formidable. Two-kilometer detection range certainly commanded respect...
"Wait - your soul vision spans two kilometers in diameter?" Leon's question froze the demon mid-preening.
"Negative."
"Praise the Abyss!" The Capricorn exhaled in relief. That crimson-haired harpy's curse had reduced its perception range to barely two kilometers. If this mortal possessed equal range...
"My soul perception radius is two kilometers."
Silence descended.
The Bandaged Woman stiffened. The Capricorn's obsidian features twisted with barely contained outrage. "Radius? RADIUS? You wield MY power with DOUBLE the range? By the Nine Hells, this is—"
"Verification required." The Woman's gauze-wrapped fingers closed vise-like on Leon's shoulders, burning intensity radiating from her amber eyes. "If you truly hold that creature's power... don't describe my soul. Make me feel it - amplify my darker impulses!"
Under her desperate grip, Leon's breathing quickened. Her urgent need for the Capricorn's power presented unexpected leverage. Perhaps negotiations...
"Ill assist." She anticipated his unspoken thought, molten gaze overriding previous cautions. "Demonstrate this power now, swear to aid me later, and I'll storm that hospital immediately."
"Deal."
The abrupt reversal of fortune sent exhilaration coursing through Leon's veins. Clutching the demonic goat's head tighter, he extended his consciousness toward the shadow aspect of the Bandaged Woman's soul - and gave the faintest tug.
KA-BOOM!!!
A dam ruptured. Tsunami waves of obsidian flames erupted from her spiritual core, cascading along Leon's psychic connection like hellfire chasing kerosene.
The Woman's amber eyes underwent terrifying metamorphosis. Where moments ago shone desperate hope now glittered blades forged in permafrost - a gaze so lethally sharp it seemed to flay his very essence.
Single eye contact stole Leon's breath. Now he truly understood the phrase "materialized bloodlust" - her glare transcended mere anger, regarding him with the visceral revulsion one reserves for maggot-ridden carrion. Survival instincts screamed she'd reduce him to quark particles given provocation.
"Apologies..." The Woman's bandaged hands retreated from his purpling neck, remorse softening her features as livid fingerprints darkened on his skin. "The surge... overwhelmed containment. Compensation shall be - monetary or otherwise."
"No... cough... necessary..." Leon waved weakly between hacking coughs, doubled over with hands on knees. The choking aftermath brought visceral understanding - had he prodded deeper into her shadow self, this alley would host two corpses tonight.
So... death by metaphysical strangulation? He thought wryly, massaging his bruised Adam's apple with trembling fingers.
"Pathetic worm." The Ebony Capricorn's mocking sneer slithered into his mind. Observing from the sidelines, the demon now voiced its contempt. "Can't even redirect malignant energy without self-immolation? Return my power before you embarrass us further."
'Return' implies inability to reclaim it voluntarily. Leon filed this crucial intel even as he gasped, "Teach me to—"
"Never!" The Capricorn's interruption cracked like a bullwhip, pride smarting from being outclassed. "Our pact concludes here! I'll endure that crimson-maned shrew's torments, languish in Welsh pastures chewing thistles, starve for premium tobacco till the planes converge - before imparting more knowledge to you!"
Black hooves stamped petulantly on cobblestones. "Not! Another! Syllable!"
True to its demonic pride, the Ebony Capricorn maintained radio silence despite Leon's offers. With obstinacy that would shame mountain goats, the creature sealed its eyes and mind, radiating impenetrable defiance.
Prioritizing the hospital crisis and the Bandaged Woman's sudden cooperation, Leon abandoned negotiations, steering them through night-shrouded streets. Yet the thoroughfare teemed with unsettling activity - clusters of masked figures bearing stretchered forms, their raven-beaked respirators glinting ominously under gas lamps.
Paradoxically, these urgent processions yielded passage with alarming deference whenever Leon approached. Though their souls radiated anxiety rather than malice, the Woman's abrupt intervention froze Leon mid-step.
"Hold." Her bandaged fingers produced an identical plague mask from her valise. Securing the avian apparatus, her muffled warning carried grave intensity: "Stay. Observe. Engage only if I signal."
Leon's grip tightened on the demonic artifact as she approached the procession. Contrary to expectations, the masked figures exhibited no hostility, instead pressing a spare respirator into the Woman's hands with gestures toward Leon.
"Critical situation." She thrust the leather contraption at him. "Don."
The mask's claustrophobic design plunged Leon into darkness - obsidian lenses permitting only slivered vision through a central monocle. Before he could protest, the Woman slammed the beak against his face. Cold viscous fluid seeped into his eyes as the apparatus fused to his skin.
World shifted into jaundiced hyperfocus.
"This is the Pestilence Bureau's Nightcrow Respirator." Her rapid-fire explanation accompanied their hastened march. "Visuals through the ocular lens only. Seal expires air through the beak's filter - herbs, spices, ammoniac salts block contagions."
Her briefing crescendoed into grim revelations: Overflows from sewage canals contaminating aquifers... contractors skipping twelve-stage purification protocols... hundreds poisoned by tainted water now overwhelming Redbrick Road Hospital.
"Redbrick Road?" Leon's voice cracked. "That's where Anna's—"
"Insanity!" He erupted upon processing the logistics. "Central Hospital's thousand beds! Royal Infirmary's isolation wards! Even Chapel District or Mercer University could—"
"Redbrick's capacity barely reaches two hundred." His outrage echoed through the respirator's hollow beak. "Corridors already packed with bodies! Why flood a saturated facility?"
"Geopolitics." The Bandaged Woman's reply carried weary resignation. "Central Hospital borders financial districts. Royal Infirmary neighbors aristocratic enclaves. Chapel Street houses clergy. Mercer University grooms future elites. The Pest Bureau dare not risk contaminating these zones." Her bandaged finger traced sewage lines on a mental map. "New District's intake remains upstream, untouched. Old District's crisis stays... localized."
"By what right?!"
"Quintuple water tariffs."
"..." Leon's jaw clenched. Money. Always fucking money.
"Even if other hospitals consented," she continued softly, "Old District residents couldn't afford their fees."
"And Public Works? The contractors?" Leon's voice vibrated with contained fury. "The dam collapsed in first rainfall! Hydraulic firms skipped safety protocols! By law they should—" His tirade died abruptly. Stupid question.
Memories surfaced - the alchemical plant near Anna's school, its toxic emissions dismissed as "industrial necessities." Public Works' endless excuses. Contractors dissolving into shell companies post-disaster. Victims clutching worthless settlement papers.
Smoldering injustice burned through his sternum.
"Move." The Woman tugged his sleeve, nodding toward corridor-clogged plague bearers. "Their duty: contain outbreaks. Ours: contain anomalies. That Corruptor you detected? Likely connected. Even if not..." Her gaze swept over moaning stretcher cases. "...these people walk into danger."
Leon inhaled sharply through the respirator's herb-stuffed beak. Nodded.
As they sprinted toward Redbrick Road Hospital, the Ebony Capricorn's horns nudged his ribs.
Psst!
"Mm?"
Don't speak! The demon's mental whisper slithered through his cortex. Just listen. I'll read your soul's answers.
Leon's eyes narrowed toward the Woman's back. Demonic solicitation.
No contracts. No obligations. The Capricorn purred, savoring the roiling darkness beneath Leon's righteous veneer. I'll teach you to stoke human malice... turn them against each other. Tempting?
"..."
Contradicts your earlier stance. Leon's soul pulsed cold suspicion.
Circumstances evolve. The demon's grin widened. Interested?
Conflict warred within Leon. Knowledge without cost? Yet... Nothing's free with demons.
...
In the VIP ward, Anna's frail fingers plucked at a nurse's sleeve. "Where's Leon? What's happening?"
The younger nurse blanched at corridor pandemonium. "Mass poisoning... or plague—"
"Contagion's already here." The senior nurse nodded toward vomit seeping under their door. "We're exposed."
Anna's gaze swept over convulsing figures beyond glass. "Let them in. The carpet's better than tiles."
Shock melted into warmth. "Your ward, your choice."
Their attempt at mercy became nightmare. The boy's arm fused with flooring. The junior nurse's scream echoed as flesh tore from bone. Patients sank into liquefying stone like quicksand victims.
"Holy Mother..." The senior nurse collapsed, staring at the melting corridor. "What hell is this?"
"Hold!" Leon's urgent grip halted the Bandaged Woman mid-stride.
She turned, startled to find both man and demon squeezing tear-streaked eyes shut. Leon's face glistened with pain-induced perspiration.
"The hospital's alive!" He rasped, clutching his seared ocular nerves. Through spiritual vision still flashing afterimages, he gestured upward where obsidian flames engulfed the structure. "It awakened when you approached - a soulforce eclipsing hundreds combined!"
The Woman's masked visage tilted analytically. "Three possibilities: architectural haunting, structure-manipulating Corruptor, or dimensional detachment." Her bandaged fingers dismissed options like counting coins. "First lacks precision. Third requires cosmic-tier power. Therefore..."
"Corruptor fused with the building." Leon completed grimly.
"Precisely." From her luggage emerged matte-steel components. Clicking parts assembled with mechanical precision - rifled brass barrel, recoil dampeners, sniper stock, telescopic sight...
Leon blinked. "Where's the holy water? The enchanted mace?" His mental image of occult purification shattered as she slapped a pneumatic canister onto the assembled railgun. "You're bringing a sniper rifle to a supernatural fight?!"
"Portable nailgun." The Woman loaded argentum spikes into the magazine well. "Military-commissioned. Reduced 500m range, but sufficient for wall-piercing shots." She pressed reserve gas cartridges into his palms. "Three shots only. Miss thrice - retreat. Understood?"
"..." Leon stared at the steampunk artillery piece. I played FPS games, not attended spec-ops training!
Noting his hesitation, she tapped the calibrated reticle. "I'll maintain close combat. You won't hit me."
"But—"
"Assume prone position." She demonstrated, cheek welded to stock. "Steady breathing. Align scope, barrel, target."
"Like... three-point line?" Leon's gaming terminology slipped out.
The Woman paused. "Essentially."
"Hmm?"
The Bandaged Woman's eyes narrowed behind her mask. "Prone firing protocol? Military connections?"
"Sort of..." Leon's gaze flickered evasively. "My parents... military engineers before they died. Mentioned bits about firearms... just fragments."
"Ah." She nodded, accepting the half-truth before gesturing at her customized railgun. "Your answer suits standard carbines - short-range sights aligned with barrels. But this—" Her finger traced an invisible diagonal between elevated scope and muzzle. "Ballistics differ. Every spike arcs downward. You must calculate trajectory using mil-dots for calibration."
Bzzt!
[Through Emma Alman's Crash Course, "Marksmanship Novice (Iron)" Activated]
Effect: +5% shot correction when consciously adjusting aim Progression: 0/200 live fires OR 0/1000 simulations to upgrade Hidden Traits: None
Bzzt!
[Unique Badge "Materialist Soul (Crimson)" Unlocked]
Adaptive Learning: Each missed shot increases subsequent hit probability by 2% (stackable)