Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 135. Photograph

Hearing their conversation, Charles was startled. He hadn't expected Tobba to know 134, and judging from their words, their relationship went back four centuries.

Casting a glance at the Narwhale, which was in the distance, Charles swiftly activated the chainsaw on his prosthetic limb and slashed beneath him.

The insect legs holding him captive were severed with splashes of green blood. Bouncing off the soft, supple flesh of King, Charles lunged at 134 like a cheetah.

134 was in the midst of her tirade with Tobba, but she reacted fast enough. Without even looking back, she lifted a left hand, and Charles was suspended in mid-air with the psychic force he found familiar.

Clink-clink-clink!

The gears within Charles' prosthetic arm spun rapidly, and the sharp grappling hook shot directly toward 134's petite frame.

134 nimbly floated upward and dodged Charles' attack. However, she lost her psychic grip over Charles.

Charles definitely wouldn't allow such a perfect opportunity to go to waste. His right hand reached out for his revolver hung at his waist, and in a slick motion, he aimed it at 134 and fired successive shots.

Under the assault of bullets, 134 found it hard to defend for the moment. Charles' aim was strikingly accurate, and each shot was timed to intercept her counter-attack. Her few attempts to close the gap between them were thwarted.

However, her visage showed not the slightest trace of panic. Rather, amusement started painting her face as if she were a cat toying with a mouse.

"Listen to me, please. Why do we have to do this? Can't we just sit down and talk things out?" Tobba interrupted with a frustrated look on his face.

However, his words fell on deaf ears.

Charles continued firing, and one of his bullets left a tiny hole in 134's pretty purple dress.

A hole-riddled bone flute suddenly sprouted from the fleshy mass below. It first struck the revolver out of Charles's next and then pierced Charles in the abdomen the next second.

Charles looked downward at the ground, his eyes widening in disbelief. A dark, humanoid mist floated out of “King's” body.

Its ethereal hand grabbed the bone flute embedded in Charles. The mist condensed for a split moment, and with a tug, the hand yanked the flute out.

Blood gushed out of the walnut-sized, round wound left behind in Charles' abdomen.

"My god! What are you doing? What's with all this blood?!"

Tobba hurriedly climbed off the ground and rushed to Charles' staggering form. He pulled out some grimy scraps of paper and hastily pressed them to Charles' wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. However, the blood gushing out of the wound easily washed the paper scraps away.

The items in Tobba's hands were as useless as ever.

The dark mist ceased its assault on Charles. It enveloped Tobba in its smoky embrace and carried him along toward 134. Putting Tobba down, it then hovered behind 134 like a loyal servant waiting for her next command.

Charles' face had turned as pale as a sheet with the excessive blood loss. His gaze alternated between the strange mist, 134, and Tobba. A realization then dawned upon him.

Pressing his hand on his wound, he winced in pain and said, "You, “King,” Tobba and this mist, all of you escaped from Laboratory 2, didn't you?

“Actually, the King of Sottom isn't referring to a single individual but to you four living relics, right? No, perhaps there are more. There are more than four of you?"

"Heheheh, you seem to know quite a bit about us," 134 replied as a sly grin appeared on her face. With a bounce in her steps, she hopped over to the revolver on the ground and picked it up.

The juxtaposition of the hefty gun and her delicate, porcelain-like hands was deeply unnerving.

Charles' eyes rapidly scanned his surroundings. When he noticed a fleeting red hue in the distant sea, a soft chuckle escaped from his lips.

"Why are you laughing? Is your impending death amusing to you?"

Checking the bullet chamber, 134 saw that there were still three brass bullets within. She reloaded the gun and, with one eye closed, aimed the barrel at Charles.

"I'm laughing at those pirates. Laughing at the fact that a horde of humans is being led by four living relics," Charles mocked as his gaze landed on the distant pirate ships chasing after the fleet.

134 let out a cackle. "Us? Relics? You are as ignorant as those in the Foundation. We are the chosen ones of this world. As for you, inferior humans, you are all mere pitiful insects!"

"I've been to Laboratory 2 and have also witnessed the torment the Foundation inflicted upon you. But aren't your words too harsh? Don't forget, you were once human as well," Charles stared at the little girl before him.

Charles' words seemed to have brought back horrible memories as 134's face twisted with rage. "How long have you been there to even dare act like you understand me? A day? A week? A month? Do you know how long I had to endure living in that hell?! Thirty long years!! Every human is born with an abhorrent sin! They are not my kind!"

Crack!

134's adorable face fragmented like shattered glass. Behind the dark cracks, a vertical pupil overflowing with hatred stared at Charles. Her current appearance resembled a vengeful specter.

The monster-like 134 raised the revolver at Charles, and a cruel smirk appeared on her face. Letting out a mischievous cackle, she said, "The sight of a bullet piercing through your head would surely be amusing."

Beside 134, a look of anxiety painted Tobba's face. He fumbled through his pockets and fished out a piece of trash. He motioned the item at 134 in an attempt to stop her but to no avail. He discarded the item to the side, fished out another piece of trash and repeated the cycle repeatedly with every item he had.

However, his items were just normal trash and held no power or abilities.

Suddenly, Tobba froze. Letting out a sigh of relief, he turned to the black mist next to him with a silly smile on his countenance. He then reached out both hands and grabbed the bone flute in a tight grip.

"Gomma, long time no see. Your flute is such a stunning masterpiece. Let me have a go at it."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A series of gunshots echoed in the air as three bullets were expelled from their chambers, and they hurtled straight toward Charles.

The moment 134 pulled the trigger, Charles rapidly rolled to the right and flung an object toward her.

Splat!

A splash of crimson erupted from Charles' left shoulder. He had only managed to dodge two of the three bullets. Charles could feel his vision darkening. He was losing too much blood. However, giving up was not in his dictionary, and he stumbled toward the sea.

The shadowy mist standing behind 134 was just about to dash over to block Charles' escape but found its bone flute being held in Tobba's tight grasp.

Looking up and meeting the black mist's downward-looking gaze, Tobba audaciously swung both his legs onto the bone flute and hung onto it like a koala.

134 stood rooted in place. She didn't follow up with another attack. In her hands, she clutched the photograph that Charles had thrown her way. She looked at it with a distant gaze, and the fissures on her face slowly healed.

The photograph depicted a family of three. It was the very picture that the Meeh'ek had handed to Charles before. A bullet had left a hole in the child's head, and on either side of the bullet hole, the couple had a bright smile on their faces.

134 stared at the picture, finding it oddly familiar as she tried to dig through her memories. Gradually, the malevolence on her face faded. Beads of tears welled up in her eyes before they fell like a broken pearl necklace and dripped on the photograph.

Splash!

In the distance, Charles had plunged into the icy waters.

134's lips quivered as she tried to hold in her emotions. However, she soon relented and allowed them to pour out. Like an actual six-year-old, she burst into tears and bawled.

Hearing 134's cries, Tobba let go of the bone flute and rushed to her side. Holding her in his embrace, he gently patted her on the shoulder and consoled her, "Sh... Grandpa's here. Grandpa's here."

From the ground, white fleshy lumps emerged and gently pressed against 134's petite form to offer her comfort.

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