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*****
"Boss, are you alright!"
Before the four of them could even reach the Evil Dragon Bar, they were intercepted by several burly men rushing toward them. These men were staff members of the establishment and veterans of the military; while they lacked the powers of Beyonders, they were still capable of providing significant assistance in a fight.
One man in particular stood out, carrying a heavy, grayish-white mechanical crate on his back connected to a matching rifle—a formidable piece of hardware. It was a high-pressure steam rifle, boasting a lethality nearly equivalent to a modern, low-quality sniper rifle. Even a Sequence 9 Beyond who had lost control could be killed instantly if struck in a vital spot.
Such weapons were classified as military-controlled gear. Due to their staggering weight, they were impossible for anyone without specialized training to operate. Consequently, they were usually kept locked in a warehouse and only retrieved during emergencies, which explained why the reinforcements had only just arrived.
One could not underestimate these steam-powered weapons. While their raw power might not compare to modern firearms in the hands of an average person, George knew that within the Church of the Corporeal Engine—one of the seven major churches—Beyonders could significantly amplify the destructive potential of such armaments.
"It's over now. Take Old John back to rest, then go clean up the reception room. I have a distinguished guest to attend to!" Swain grunted, nodding as he handed the partially recovered Old John over to his men.
"Distinguished guest?"
The men looked bewildered as they took hold of Old John. They glanced at Old Neil and then at George before turning back toward the bar. Old Neil was a familiar face and hardly a "distinguished guest," so their eyes naturally fell on the small figure draped in a cloak. Despite their confusion, they obeyed their boss's orders without hesitation.
"Mr. George, this way please!"
Upon arriving at the entrance, Swain stepped forward and personally pushed open the heavy doors of the bar for George. A wave of sweltering heat and the pungent scent of alcohol immediately rushed out, accompanied by waves of boisterous cheering and shouting.
Stepping inside, the first thing that caught the eye was a square boxing ring. Two shirtless men were locked in a fierce bout atop the stage, while dozens of patrons below shouted encouragement at the top of their lungs. When Swain appeared, many eyes turned toward him.
The crowd looked on in astonishment as they watched their explosive-tempered and terrifyingly powerful boss respectfully lead George through the hall and into the billiard room in the back. They had never seen Swain treat anyone with such deference, let alone a child. Bets were immediately placed as patrons speculated whether the boy was the scion of some high-ranking noble family.
Passing through a secret door in the billiard room, George followed Swain into a luxuriously decorated private lounge stocked with expensive liquors.
"This is the current inventory list for all Beyonder materials available in the market. Tell me what you need, and I will fetch it for you directly." Swain handed a document to George. As the overseer who took a twenty-percent cut of all transactions in the market, he naturally kept a daily log of all traded items.
However, when George pulled back his hood, removed the black silk scarf masking his face, and reached out for the list, Swain froze where he stood. He had assumed the figure was a naturally diminutive person or perhaps even a highly intelligent supernatural creature. He had never imagined the person was truly a child—one who clearly had the appearance of an infant less than a year old.
Is it parasitism or reincarnation?
As a former Captain of the Mandated Punishers, Swain had heard of high-sequence powerhouses from certain pathways who, after suffering devastating injuries, could restore their strength through parasitic possession or reincarnation. The specific details were beyond him, though. He was only a Sequence 8, after all, and having lived in Tingen his whole life, he had never even visited the headquarters of the Church of the Lord of Storms.
In truth, he had already suspected George was a high-sequence powerhouse; how else could he have effortlessly blocked Swain's strongest attack and restored a rampaging Beyonder to sanity? Seeing his true form now made everything seem logical. Whether it was parasitism or reincarnation, the boy had saved his teammate, and that made him a friend.
As for the legalities, that would be left for the current Captain of the Mandated Punishers to handle when he arrived.
"The materials I need aren't here," George said, quickly scanning the list. He found none of the ingredients required for the Sequence 6 'Faceless' potion and tossed the list back to Swain.
He hadn't held much hope of finding Faceless materials here anyway. The strongest Beyonders in Tingen were only Sequence 7, and most were tucked away within official church organizations. When church Beyonders advanced, the church provided the necessary potions; they had no need for the black market. Consequently, Tingen's market mostly dealt in Sequence 9 materials, with Sequence 8 items being rare and Sequence 6 virtually non-existent.
While not impossible, the probability was abysmally low. To find mid-to-high sequence materials, one had to travel to major metropolises or places where supernatural creatures gathered, such as the overseas archipelagos.
"Tell me what you need. I'll keep an eye out and buy them immediately the moment they appear," Swain offered as he caught the list.
George didn't stand on ceremony. "The mutated pituitary gland of a Thousand-Faced Hunter, the characteristic of a Human-Skinned Shadow, 80 milliliters of Thousand-Faced Hunter blood, 5 drops of Black Datura juice, 10 grams of Dragon's Tooth Grass powder, and 3 strands of Deep-Sea Naga hair."
These were exactly the ingredients needed to concoct the Faceless advancement potion.
"I... I will keep a lookout for you," Swain stammered, nodding. He hadn't even heard of several of those items.
"Regarding the one hundred and fifty pounds... would you like cash or—"
"I need you to have someone deliver that hundred and fifty pounds to 256 Howells Street, to the Burton couple," George interrupted. "Do it in a reasonable manner and do not mention my existence. In their eyes, I am still an infant who cannot speak or walk."
George reached out, uncorked a bottle of high-end red wine Swain had set on the table, poured himself a glass, and drank it down.
"The taste is mediocre," he remarked.
Since he no longer intended to hide his identity, he saw no point in concealing his address or social connections. Hiding was futile anyway; the Church could easily cross-reference registered infant records to find him. His parents in this life were just ordinary people. Even if things didn't go as planned and he failed to establish a cooperative relationship with the Church, he trusted their code of conduct enough to know they wouldn't harass innocent civilians.
The core of his confidence, however, lay in his own strength. Because he was powerful enough, he didn't care about his identity or address being exposed. His only real concern was being discovered by the Creator of this world and facing a direct "deletion." Everything else was secondary. Even against the hungering entities lurking outside the planet's atmosphere, he felt no fear—if he couldn't win, he could certainly escape.
(End of Chapter)