With a guttural, beast-like snarl, the monstrous creatures obeyed the cloaked man's command and charged out from the shadows, encircling the defenseless girl inside the church.
Their grotesque, half-human, half-fish faces were covered in unnatural crystalline growths that jutted out from their flesh, making them even more hideous.
The sight alone was nauseating, as if their very existence was an insult to life itself.
These things were not the result of natural evolution—no, they were an abomination.
And yet, the terrifying energy radiating from them was undeniable.
They wasted no time. The creatures extended their grotesquely mutated arms—covered in scales and crystal shards—toward the girl, attempting to restrain her.
There was no hesitation, no sympathy.
They were merely experimental subjects, programmed to follow orders. Emotions had no place in their minds.
But the moment they appeared, something within Gladiia stirred.
A faint clarity returned to her mind.
Almost instinctively, she dodged the reaching arms and darted backward, moving with the speed and precision of a swordfish gliding through the deep sea.
Yet, just as she attempted to retreat, a translucent wall of eerie, pale-blue slime rose behind her, sealing off her escape.
The creatures slowly lowered their arms.
The same unnatural glow that pulsed from their crystalline bodies hinted at the origin of the barricade—it was their doing.
Blocked from fleeing, Gladiia's crimson eyes once again clouded with confusion.
Her initial reaction had been purely instinctual, not a sign of fully regained awareness. The fact that she had managed to dodge at all was remarkable.
But now that her movement had been interrupted, so too had her dazed, reflex-driven actions.
She stared at the advancing creatures with fearful, helpless eyes, her pupils filled with desperation.
She didn't understand why they were here.
She didn't understand why they were attacking her.
But even in her childlike state of mind, she knew—falling into their hands would mean a fate far worse than death.
"I don't know what happened to make you end up like this," a voice echoed from the shadows.
"But it doesn't matter."
"We will heal you… in our own way, dear Abyssal Hunter."
Only after confirming that Gladiia had completely lost the will and ability to resist did the cloaked man finally emerge from the darkness, speaking as if he were giving an acceptance speech.
His eyes gleamed with twisted fascination as he gazed at the girl, now surrounded by his monstrous creations.
Even though he had already studied the Abyssal Hunters' formidable physiology once before, he remained utterly captivated by them—especially by how their bodies resisted the effects of concentrated Originium liquid.
The way they writhed in agony, their pained cries—
He had never forgotten it.
It was exquisite.
Unfortunately, his previous test subject had been stolen away by those damn medics.
But now, another had conveniently delivered herself right into his grasp.
How could he not be thrilled?
The previous Abyssal Hunter had been handled by his three superiors, leaving the cloaked man with nothing more than the role of an observer.
But this time, it was different.
This time, he was the one who captured the subject.
That meant she would be his to handle.
Just thinking about it sent a shiver of greedy anticipation down his spine.
Beneath the hood, his murky eyes glowed with twisted delight.
This time, he would personally inject the Originium fluid into his captive's spinal column.
This time, he would hear her despairing screams with his own ears.
Sensing the perverse gaze fixated on her, Gladiia shrank back, hugging her own shoulders. Her body trembled with fear.
"M-My dad is really strong…"
Like a bullied child calling out for a parent, the amnesiac girl's fragile voice—no louder than a kitten's mew—was her last attempt at resistance.
But instead of intimidating the cloaked man, her pitiful display only excited him further.
She really was broken.
How wonderful.
"Don't worry," he sneered, his grin stretching unnaturally wide. "I'll make sure your so-called father joins you soon enough. But for now, just be a good girl and cooperate, hmm?"
His shoulders trembled with barely restrained excitement as he watched his monstrous creations reach out their slimy hands toward their helpless prey.
And yet—
Before they could even touch her, a sudden force slammed into them from beyond the crystalline wall, sending the creatures tumbling backward.
"Now, now, isn't all this a bit unnecessary?"
A lazy voice rang out from the direction of the shattered wall.
Leaning his Netherite Sword against his shoulder, Steven nonchalantly lowered the leg he had used to kick the barrier down.
His gaze swept over the scene, landing at last on the cloaked man, who had been so sure of his victory mere moments ago.
"Kidnapping a child, huh? You do realize that's punishable by death, don't you?"
Steven's sword leveled itself, its tip aimed directly at the cloaked man's head.
His face was still curved into an easygoing smile, but his words carried the weight of absolute authority.
Looking at the situation, he had arrived a little earlier than ideal.
Wouldn't it have been more dramatic if he'd burst in just as the villain was about to do something truly horrific? That way, his entrance would've been even more heroic, even more cinematic.
Sighing internally at his own lack of theatrical timing, Steven made a mental note to let things simmer a bit longer next time.
He shouldn't have jumped in so quickly just because he was worried about his adorable, adopted daughter.
At that thought, his gaze shifted to the corner where Gladiia stood, her crimson eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Dad…"
"I'm right here."
Reassured that she was still in her amnesiac state—and still recognized him as her 'father'—Steven exhaled in relief.
In the next instant, he flickered forward.
One swift stroke.
A single clean slash.
And the nearest fish-mutant collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
"I'll deal with you running off later," he murmured over his shoulder to Gladiia.
"For now…"
His icy gaze snapped back to the cloaked man.
"I think we need to have a little chat about the legal consequences of trafficking minors, don't you?"
Though he still wore a smile, his eyes were as cold as death itself.