Chapter 124: Ghost-Masked Swordsman

Amber calmly approached the downed creature. Even with the gaping wound blown clear through its back, the hulking beast continued to cling tenaciously to life, writhing and twitching on the filthy concrete.

Its claws scraped and clawed against the hard pavement, trying vainly to pull its bulky frame forward. In its warped psyche, escape was the singular focus that drove its every movement.

The woman's sharp eyes remained fixed on the miserable monster as she strode forward, her footsteps echoing ominously in the confined space of the alley. Her grip tightened around the revolver, wisps of acrid smoke curling from the barrel.

Judging by the position and trajectory, the explosive bullet must have punctured straight through its lungs. Yet somehow, it continued to desperately gasp for breath, foul blood bubbling obscenely from the massive wound with each ragged inhale.

As expected of the resilience and regenerative abilities of a werewolf. Even with the devastation inflicted by the supernatural blast, the obscene vitality of the creature was gradually restoring its mangled form.

The charred flesh and tissue around the gaping cavity slowly began knitting itself back together. Intricate webs of new blood vessels crept like spiders across the exposed bone and sinew, swiftly enveloping them. 

The mystical revolver's fire properties continued to burn, trying to hinder and slow down the extraordinary healing process. But it was only a matter of time before the enormous wound completely closed.

Without hesitation, she lifted one booted foot and stomped down forcefully, pinning one of the its moving limbs against the unforgiving concrete with brutal force. 

A wet snap echoed through the alley as the powerful force shattered bone. The limb contorted grotesquely at an unnatural angle, crushed beyond recognition. The creature let out a guttural howl of pain.

Amber ignored the pained cries and focused on keenly analyzing the monster's twisted form, scrutinizing every gruesome detail. She circled it slowly, her movements composed, ready to strike at the first hint of retaliation.

"The mutation is almost complete," she muttered to herself as she completed the observation. The body and mind were distorted past the threshold from which recovery was possible.

At this terminal stage, the transformation had reached an alarming degree. There was scarcely any visible trace left of the human this monster had once been. Its original form was almost beyond recognition.

Only the tattered rags clinging to its hulking frame offered any reminder of the person consumed by this abhorrent metamorphosis. The creature's corruption was now irreversible.

"This is already the fifth case of werewolf-type pollution we found since entering this place," she mumbled grimly with a solemn expression. "Each of them with severe and irreversible degrees of mutation."

Her sharp mind swiftly analyzed the situation, picking out details and forming connections. Something sinister was unfolding here in the shadows of the abandoned district, hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world.

"Is someone intentionally spreading this?" she pondered, her frown deepening. If some hidden entity was deliberately spreading spiritual pollution, the potential consequences could rapidly spiral out of control.

Lynn, hiding in the shadows nearby, heard Amber's words clearly. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the implications of what she had just revealed.

Someone or something seemed to be intentionally spreading spiritual pollution, triggering these twisted metamorphoses in the abandoned district. Who would orchestrate such a nefarious plot? And to what end?

He wracked his brain, trying to piece together the clues available. This district was a lawless realm, a hotbed of crime and underground dealings. Perhaps an ambitious gang was utilizing this to create monstrous enforcers and cement their power.

Or it could be the work of some twisted researcher, using the inhabitants as experiments. The possibilities were endless and deeply troubling, he needed more information to understand the true nature of this conspiracy.

Suddenly, Lynn heard a noise coming from an opposite alley and his expression immediately changed. His senses heightened to an extreme degree, picked up the subtle sounds - the scrape of a shoe against the rough pavement.

His heart raced as he wondered if the other agent from the Special Investigation Bureau had already caught up. His muscles tightened instinctively, sensing the presence of another person nearby, concealed from view.

A few moments later, Amber also detected the faint disturbance. Her head abruptly twisted to the side, honing in on the sound that had reached her alert senses.

She immediately spun around, honed instincts kicking in as her hand tightened its grip on the mystical revolver. Her sharp eyes scanned the surroundings intently, searching for the slightest motion or hint of danger.

The alley was swathed in gloom, the sole working streetlamp positioned too far to fully illuminate this passage between buildings. Squinting into the murk, she cursed internally at having let her guard down, distracted by the mutated werewolf.

"Who's there?" Amber called out sharply, injecting authority into her voice. "Reveal yourself at once!" Only silence greeted her demand, the concealing darkness refusing to relinquish its secrets.

After a long moment of tense silence, a figure slowly emerged from around the corner. As it came into the glow cast by the flickering streetlamp, its shadow was stretched out long across the ground.

The person in question, much like Lynn, was hiding in the obscurity of the dimly lit alley. The oppressive shadows concealed its presence, making everyone unable to notice him.

At first glance, it appeared to be a man, dressed in a simple ensemble of unassuming black garments, devoid of any distinctive markings or embellishments.

Concealing his face was a peculiar mask, a half-mask painted in an ethereal shade of white, reminiscent of a ghostly visage. Its spectral appearance lent an air of intrigue to the enigmatic figure.

But it wasn't just his attire and mask that captured attention; it was the weapon he wielded with a firm grip. In his hand, he brandished a long sword, its gleaming steel reflecting the scant light of the moonlight.

"Can I take this polluted creature?" the masked man spoke calmly, his voice was devoid of emotion as his fingers pointed towards the wounded werewolf on the ground.

Lynn's eyes narrowed in response to the unexpected declaration. He couldn't help but feel a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he observed the mysterious figure's audacity.

What perplexed him even more was the fact that he was wielding a sword against the woman's firearm, especially considering it was an extraordinary weapon. This man was either a master or a fool.

Amber's expression hardened. "This area is under Special Investigation Bureau jurisdiction," she stated calmly. "That creature is now classified evidence in an ongoing investigation."

She continued, her voice now tinged with a cold, unwavering resolve. "Neither can you take it from here, nor can you leave this place. You must come back with me to assist with the investigation. "

The masked man remained silent, seemingly unfazed by the stern warning. His grip on the sword tightened almost imperceptibly as he stared at the mutated werewolf writhing on the ground.

Despite the authoritative tone and the threat of lethal force if he resisted, his posture betrayed no hint of apprehension or intimidation. 

He tilted his head slightly to the side, watching the woman intently. "Then we can only steal it by force," he finally replied, his voice calm yet dripping with anticipation.

The man in black clothes sprang into action in an instant, lunging forward with blinding speed. His sword sliced through the air towards the women with deadly precision.

Almost at the same time, Amber pulled the trigger and an orange-red bullet flew away with a long trail of orange flame, unleashed from the depths of the revolver's burning barrel.

Lynn, who had been observing the tense confrontation unfold from the concealment of the shadows, was caught off-guard by the sudden escalation of the situation.

He needed to retreat to a safer distance. His current proximity to the battle made him vulnerable to stray attacks, which could easily expose him and entangle him in the chaos.