On the other side, John barely dodged the charge, and the creature slammed into the building. He managed to take advantage of its momentum, slipping past the red monster just in time.
But now, he needed to deal with the old man. John recognized him. This was Tula, a side character who briefly appeared when Klad raided the Demon Hand cult.
They called him the Crimson Manipulator.
Tula's foundation was built on blood—more specifically, his master's blood. The old man had once been a butler for a noble who treated him poorly. In an act of defiance, Tula killed his master and escaped, awakening a heretic circle of a star in the process.
In the novel, he was a 3rd-circle mystic who used blood to control people for his dirty work. He had the bad habit of gloating whenever he thought victory was in his grasp.
That's why John drew him into a corner, giving Tula the illusion of victory. But John couldn't have predicted the old man's swift reaction, the way he seized the opportunity to save himself in an unfamiliar situation.
Tula sacrificed his artifact to escape.
John didn't know exactly what the artifact was, but he could tell it was valuable. Replacing something like that wouldn't be easy. Mystic items were highly restricted and controlled by the top brass. For a heretic, getting such an artifact was no small feat.
The fastest way to gain such power was to become a priest. On the opposite end, heretics had to jump through countless hoops to acquire the necessary ingredients for an artifact—or find a natural mystic occurrence and turn it into one. And even then, it wasn't guaranteed that the artifact would suit their power.
But that was a problem for later. Right now, John just needed to drive the butcher knife he picked up from the villager into Tula's face.
This was the perfect opportunity. Redirecting that mass of flesh would take time, and he could exploit it.
"You underestimate me, kid."
As John closed the distance, he felt something was off. Tula had already proven he could turn the tide of battle in the blink of an eye. But right now, the old man was completely open for an attack.
Something wasn't right.
Still, John pressed on, moving until he stood directly in front of Tula. The old man grinned widely, his expression smug, as if he'd already trapped John. But John needed to understand what the old man was hiding.
In the novel, Tula had been defeated easily by Klad and his companions—who were all 3rd-circle mystics—by the end of Act 1. Without much of an army or a fighting chance, he'd been quickly disposed of.
John swung the butcher knife at Tula.
Tch.
It struck something fleshy. John looked at the knife, now lodged deep in Tula's arm. Red flesh had extended from his skin, hard as stone, trapping the blade. He couldn't pull it out.
John stumbled backward, his leg wobbling. The injury from earlier had caught up with him.
Tula seized the moment, raising his walking stick and striking John with it. John rolled out of the way just in time, barely avoiding a fatal blow.
BOOM!
Another deafening crash echoed as Tula slammed the ground with his staff. The destruction spread out like a web, sending shockwaves through the area.
John's mind raced. He needed a plan—and fast.
Tula's arm had mutated into a grotesque mass of muscle, but his main body remained normal. That meant there was a disadvantage to this transformation.
Tula charged again, swinging his staff at John.
John backed away.
But he had an idea.
---------
Hilda carefully retreated to the window, watching as the red muscle monster lost sight of her. She had to make her next move count. With quick, practiced hands, she sliced through the curtain, tearing it free from its holding. She waited beside the door, the cloth in her grasp, listening to the thumping of its footsteps growing closer.
Finally, the creature checked the room. The moment it entered, Hilda sprung into action, throwing the curtain with precision. It flew directly into the monster's face. The beast reached out, but its oversized arms fumbled, unable to grasp the cloth. Seizing the opportunity, Hilda swept her leg out, tripping the monster's massive limbs. Its weight threw off its balance, and it crashed to the floor.
Hilda didn't hesitate. She pounced onto its back and, with two knives in hand, drove them into its neck. She twisted the blades like a helm, severing its head from its body.
But before she could react, another monster punched through the wall, its huge hands reaching for her. She nimbly dodged, but the creature wasn't done. It lunged through the gap it had created, chair in hand. With terrifying speed, it hurled the chair at Hilda. She didn't have time to avoid it. The chair struck, sending her flying out of the window.
With a swift roll, Hilda hit the ground and pushed herself back onto her feet. She had no choice but to return to the alley and check on her master.
Outside, she saw her worst fear come true—John was cornered, clutching Theia in his arms. Tula, the crimson manipulator, used his monstrous red arm to devastate the surrounding buildings. John barely managed to dodge the old man's wild swings.
Without hesitation, Hilda rushed to help. With only one set of knives left, she couldn't afford to throw them away. She closed the distance quickly, positioning herself to strike. She aimed for Tula's back, but just as her blade made contact, a massive swelling of flesh blocked it.
"Hilda, hold his head still! And don't look!"
John's voice was urgent, and Hilda immediately abandoned her attack. Instead, she grabbed onto Tula's head, using all her strength to hold him in place. Tula tried to shrug her off, but John was faster. He pulled Theia's hair back, revealing her delicate face and those haunting black eyes.
"Spirit realm... AGHGHGHGH!"
Tula screamed in agony, his hands trembling uncontrollably as his soul was slowly drained from his body. He fought to close his eyes, but the maid wouldn't let him.