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Chapter 41: "You have obtained the super ability [Death Reincarnation · A Rank]"

As the heavens gradually darkened, the morning's stifling heat presaged an imminent deluge. The mercurial temperament of summer weather was strikingly evident, with but an hour ago the sun blazing in its full glory, and now, a cloak of somber clouds enveloping the skies.

Wolves, polar bears, and sharks, the apex predators of the natural world, track their prey for miles, drawn by the scent of blood. Once they set their sights on their quarry, they do not easily give up.

Jonathan was a patient hunter and tracker.

As Semanuick turned corners or doubled back, Jonathan positioned himself within Semanuick's blind spots, vanishing into the shadows when no cover was available. He concealed him remarkably well.

Semanuick, possessing a modicum of wit, avoided surveillance by traversing sparsely populated areas. Urban surveillance cameras have become increasingly pervasive over the years, making it challenging to find streets without them. Frequently glancing around to discern their locations, he would meander through alleyways and circle back numerous times before discovering a suitable path.

What should have taken an hour to traverse by the main road took twice as long due to Semanuick's zigzagging and constant pauses.

Jonathan trailed him for two hours, his emotions unwavering, his heartbeat steady. To prevent his phone from making noise upon receiving a text message, he had set it to airplane mode.

It seemed Semanuick was deeply fearful of Jonathan catching up to him. He would purposely take a longer route while evading surveillance, sometimes sprinting around corners before doubling back, attempting to lure out any possible pursuers.

He repeated this tactic five or six times, feigning forward motion before abruptly scanning his surroundings.

Upon noticing shadows in an alley, Semanuick would scrutinize them intently for some time as if seeking confirmation before proceeding through. Even after crossing the shadows, his anxiety remained, and he would often walk a few meters forward before suddenly turning around to observe the air near the shadows.

Interesting, utterly interesting. Jonathan became lost in thought. Semanuick's target was not only him, but he also seemed to be familiar with his super abilities. Aware of Jonathan's ability to traverse shadows, Semanuick remained as vigilant as a startled bowman when passing through them. His fear and suspicion radiated from him, akin to one bitten by a snake and consequently wary of it for years.

His terror was palpable as if he had experienced it firsthand. Capable of foreseeing the future, unafraid of death, and bearing a deep-seated hatred towards him, Semanuick's object was crystal clear.

Combining these observations, Jonathan nearly deduced the nature of Semanuick's super ability. If it were indeed as he suspected, and if such a power truly existed... he would need to revise his strategy.

Semanuick's suspicions consumed him as he looked back every three meters, yet he was unable to detect Jonathan.

In truth, Semanuick was no weakling. His physical prowess and acute vigilance had allowed him to evade capture for days on end. He was intelligent enough to avoid risks, using Jonathan's weaknesses against him.

Regrettably, Semanuick had encountered Jonathan and obstinately charged forward, refusing to back down until he had reached his end. It was not that he was too feeble but rather that Jonathan was too formidable. Semanuick's petty tricks and cunning were ineffective; he could not best Jonathan in direct combat, so instead sought to threaten him with firearms and those close to him.

Had Semanuick successfully executed his plan, it would indeed have posed a significant nuisance to Jonathan. However, fortune was not on his side, and he failed to anticipate Jonathan as an uncontrollable variable, so he had fallen into Jonathan's grasp.

Two and a half hours later, the sky was entirely shrouded in dark clouds, and a curtain of rain enveloped the city.

Seemingly relaxed that he was no longer being followed, Semanuick braved the rain, traversed a gaping hole in the wire fence, and entered the abandoned tobacco factory.

This desolate area was once home to numerous factories. The economic crisis led to many closures, followed by the government shuttering a slew of polluting plants. Beside the factory lay a disused railway line overgrown with tall, wild grass. Rumor had it the land was recently leased for redevelopment.

Quiet and secluded, the location served as both an ideal hideout and hunting ground.

After confirming Semanuick's whereabouts, Jonathan did not immediately pursue his prey. Instead, he approached the railway line, gathered a handful of wild grass, and meticulously bound his shoes with it, ensuring they were tightly wrapped. The soles' patterns could reveal the shoes' brand, while their size, tread depth, and stride could expose crucial information about his height, weight, and gender...

Even after returning to the real world, Jonathan still made time to study criminal investigation techniques. He needed to avoid leaving a trace, for merely evading surveillance would not suffice; every minute detail that could betray his identity had to be eradicated.

The downpour intensified... even the heavens appeared to be aiding him. The rain would wash away any scent he had left in the area and blur his footprints. Even the most skilled police dog would be hard-pressed to find him.

Jonathan finished concealing his personal information, wiped the rain from his cheeks, and used his shadow travel to teleport into the tobacco factory.

Hunting was a skill that grew more familiar with the practice. Jonathan drew a kitchen knife from behind his waist, holding it in his hand as he surveyed the factory for any traces of Semanuick.

Semanuick had been soaked by the rain, leaving a clear trail of wet footprints.

Jonathan calmly followed the footprints using his shadow travel ability, barely touching the ground to minimize his tracks. The factory floor's dust remained largely undisturbed by his movements.

The factory was decrepit, with rusted iron ladders, peeling walls, and shattered glass. Rain poured in through broken windows, and as the wind howled through the frames, they creaked and groaned. The wind's moans through the corridors seemed like the singing of ghosts.

Jonathan made his way from the factory's first floor to the second, gradually closing in on his prey. Finally, as he rounded a corner, he spotted a pale-faced Semanuick.

Semanuick was seated on the ground, wringing out his clothes, when Jonathan appeared silently before him like a ghost.

He stared at Semanuick in silence, his eyes cold and still like the water of the dead. The sharp kitchen knife faintly reflected light.

"I have questions for you," Jonathan said, looking down at him. "Answer my questions, and I'll let you live."

Semanuick's backside hit the floor as he retreated, shivering with fear.

"Don't you know my abilities?" Jonathan continued. "There's no point in running. Answer my questions, and I'll spare you."

Semanuick looked utterly terrified, his eyes bulging. "You, you..."

"Answer the questions and live. Don't answer, and die." Jonathan said simply, "I'm being straightforward. You can understand."

Semanuick didn't bother asking foolish questions like, "Can I really trust your promise?" The answer would change nothing; the hunter might still deceive him if he asked. If the hunter truly intended to keep his word, he would let Semanuick go after answering the questions.

Answering the questions would give Semanuick a sliver of hope for survival. Not answering would seal his fate in the next second. He did not doubt the hunter's ruthlessness.

"Have you ever taken God's Blood?" Jonathan asked.

Semanuick's lips trembled.

"Have you taken it?" Jonathan kicked Semanuick in the face, sending him to the ground with a twisted mouth and an agonizing wail. "I asked if you've taken it! You're supposed to answer, don't test my patience."

Semanuick lay on the ground, disoriented for a moment. Jonathan waited three seconds and, seeing him only screaming in pain without answering, kicked him in the stomach again.

Semanuick doubled over in pain, shouting, "Yes! Yes, I have!" He answered this question because it wasn't a crucial one. By now, every player knew that there were two ways to obtain superpowers: either by natural awakening or by taking God's Blood. His answer didn't really matter.

Semanuick's previous hesitation was because he feared Jonathan's follow-up questions might be more dangerous and sensitive. He couldn't betray his lord.

"Have you mutated?" Jonathan's eyes were like a scalpel, meticulously examining his body. "Take off your clothes."

Semanuick's face twitched, and under the hunter's oppressive gaze, he struggled to his feet and took off his shirt. His muscular body showed no signs of mutation; it was an utterly ordinary human.

Jonathan continued, "If your body in the first world hasn't mutated, what about your body in the second world?"

"None there either..." Semanuick said.

"Where did you get God's Blood?" Jonathan asked.

Semanuick's heart clenched, not wanting to answer.

But Jonathan's kick came again, not just once but repeatedly. Semanuick wailed and begged for mercy, but Jonathan showed no signs of stopping his brutal beating.

As he beat him, Jonathan spoke word by word, "I—"

Crack! Semanuick's arm was broken.

"—Asked you—"

Snap! Semanuick's leg bone fractured.

"—Where did God's Blood come from!"

Thud! Jonathan viciously kicked Semanuick's head against the wall, causing it to bleed profusely. The blood slowly trailed down the mottled wall.

Semanuick's vision was blurred by blood, and he became disoriented. Jonathan picked up Semanuick's shirt from the ground, wrapped the kitchen knife handle with it, and plunged it into Semanuick's abdomen, ensuring the blood didn't splatter onto him.

Semanuick regained consciousness amidst intense pain. His wound healed rapidly, the cut closed up, and fresh flesh grew.

"I'll tell you! It was my fellow cult members who gave it to me... Please, spare me!" Semanuick's tears flowed. "The cult provided it, and I just took it as they instructed. Please, spare me!"

"You're not being honest. I, of course, know you're part of the cult; I'm asking who supplies God's Blood to the cult," Jonathan said emotionlessly, crouching down to look at him. "If you continue to lie, I'll cut off your arm. Can your regenerative abilities regrow severed limbs?"

Semanuick trembled, his face smeared with tears and blood. "I really don't know. I just joined and am only a peripheral member... I'm not lying, really!"

Jonathan stood up and asked, "Which city do you live in in the second world?"

"White... White Whale City," Semanuick replied.

White Whale City was a city near the polar region in the second world, adjacent to the polar ice ocean. Its geographical location was roughly equivalent to the Siberian border in the first world.

Semanuick had a thought and said, trying to sound clever, "You want our God's Blood, don't you? If you spare me, I can give you a bottle when I return to the second world!"

Jonathan let out a mocking laugh. "give me? Do you think I'm as stupid as you?" He paused and asked, "Is your god real?"

Hearing this question, Semanuick stopped shaking. He became emotional, and his voice grew abnormally high. "How dare you question the existence of my lord!"

Jonathan's eyes grew cold, and he unleashed another brutal round of kicks, breaking several of Semanuick's ribs.

Semanuick rolled on the ground, initially cursing Jonathan for disrespecting his god. But Jonathan was relentless, and the sound of Semanuick's bones cracking never stopped... In the end, the furious cursing turned into desperate pleading.

"Lord, you are my lord! Stop hitting me, please!" Semanuick sobbed, holding his head. "Spare me, please! !"

"Last question." Jonathan stopped when he felt that Semanuick had had enough. "What is your super ability?"

Finally, this question had arrived.

Semanuick's eyelids twitched, and before Jonathan could kick him again, he said, "It's precognition... I knew you would kill me in the future, so I..."

Before he could finish speaking, Jonathan stabbed the knife into Semanuick's abdomen several times. The kitchen knife pierced his body with a squelching sound, and he let out a terrifying wail, nearly losing his mind. However, his physical strength and regenerative abilities were so powerful that he remained conscious even in such immense pain, unable to faint.

"Do you really think I'm as stupid as you?" Jonathan said darkly. "Answering me with my previous guess? Have you lost your mind from following a cult?"

Semanuick lay on the ground groaning, his body still recovering, but his spirit was on the verge of collapse.

"If you don't want to answer, I'll take a guess." Jonathan bent down, looking into Semanuick's bloodshot eyes. "Your super ability has something to do with time reversal..."

Semanuick's breath caught, his pupils dilated, and an indistinct syllable emerged from his throat.

"You can return to past timelines, like loading and saving in a game... Am I right?" Jonathan asked again.

Semanuick coughed up blood, struggling desperately. "No, how could I have such a heaven-defying ability?"

"But my intuition tells me you're lying, and my guess is correct. My intuition is always right, and it has never been wrong." Jonathan smiled.

To Semanuick, his smile seemed as terrifying as the Grim Reaper beckoning him.

"If you kill me, I'll go back in time! Next time, I'll make sure to kill you. If you let me go now, I'll pretend nothing happened, and we can both live in peace!" Semanuick made a final effort, and his desperation tinged with hope. "When I return in time, I'll know everything, and you'll know nothing. I'll know what you look like and where your friends are..."

Jonathan said indifferently, "No, your frantic desire to live right now is because you've lost your reliance. If you had resurrection as a fallback, you wouldn't be so desperate to stay alive now. Your rebirth ability has limitations, doesn't it? With limitations, you can't recklessly give up your life."

"Hopefully, I've made the right choice." He lifted the kitchen knife and plunged it into Semanuick's eye socket amid his fear and pleading, stirring his brain and killing him in one blow.

"You have killed [Walker Semanuick]."

"You have stripped [Walker Semanuick] of his super ability."

"You have obtained the super ability [Death Reincarnation · A Rank]."

"[Death Reincarnation · A Rank]: You can return to the past and start anew after death. The more times you die, the closer the resurrection time point will be to the time of death. If the resurrection time point coincides with the time of death, resurrection is impossible. The number of resurrections resets every seven days."

"Your super ability [Flesh Regeneration] has been upgraded."

"[Flesh Regeneration · C Rank]: Your healing rate is far superior to that of ordinary people."

Meanwhile, in the closed beta player forum of "Red Soil," a new death announcement was updated and pinned to the top.

"Walker No. 1286 was killed by Dispossessor No. 331 on July 29th."