Eric became the captain of the Red Gloves later in the previous war and was promoted to Sequence 5 Spirit Medium.
He had seen the deaths of the previous and the one before that captains, and he knew that a higher Sequence was not the first guarantee of safety—caution and vigilance were.
For the elite Red Gloves within the Nighthawks, this was a concept almost everyone believed, because ordinary Nighthawks might encounter problems that only appeared to be supernatural incidents, and even if they occasionally made mistakes, they had a high probability of turning the situation around with their Beyonder powers. But the Red Gloves, who pursued various important cases, definitely had potentially very dangerous targets.
At that moment, Eric stood on the fourth floor of the apartment building at 14 Playa Street, facing the tightly shut dark brown wooden door, and glanced around, saying:
"Two Nighthawks have already gone missing here. We must not be careless."
Initially, several residents of this building reported a foul smell coming from Room 403, and the tenant of Room 303 often heard heavy footsteps from above.
The police from the corresponding district delayed two days before coming to investigate, and then never walked out of Room 403.
After the police station confirmed this, the case was immediately transferred to the Church of the Goddess of the Night, but the two Nighthawks who came to handle it also disappeared, and the door to Room 403 remained tightly shut.
Based on this premise, the Archbishop of the Church of the Goddess of the Night in the Inner Sea County entrusted the matter to Eric's team and allowed them to apply for a Grade 1 sealed artefact for assistance.
"Yes, Captain," the members of this Red Gloves team nodded or responded, one after another.
Eric said no more. Standing before the tightly shut dark brown door of Room 403, he raised his left hand in a red glove and used a finger to tap one of his teeth.
A blurry figure suddenly appeared before him and, as if having no thickness, seeped through the door crack into Room 403.
Eric's expression was extremely focused, as if he was observing the situation inside the room through that blurry figure.
That was a natural spirit he controlled, not very powerful but with a special ability, which usually lived in his left front tooth.
In the current situation, Eric believed they should not enter directly and should scout first—even if his team had a reasonable combination of abilities and the support of a powerful sealed artefact, such caution was necessary.
If they could preliminarily figure out the situation inside and prepare more specifically, he believed things would be much easier.
Just then, in Eric's eyes, one after another tiny blood vessels stood out, some of them even burst.
As his vision instantly turned bright red, Eric heard a heavy creaking sound.
That tightly shut dark brown door suddenly burst open!
Inside the room, there were six figures. Three were wearing black-and-white checkered police uniforms, sitting on a straight-backed chair, a high stool, and a sofa respectively. Two were wearing half-top hats and black trench coats, one standing by the door, the other standing on a platform behind a bay window, pressing his face against the glass as if looking at the street below.
There was another figure sitting on a high stool on the balcony edge, with an exquisite astronomy telescope in front of him.
The skin of these six figures was all swollen, as if a lot of gas had been pumped into them. Some areas were even cracked and severely decomposed, but they still hadn't collapsed, stretched to a shiny blue-black, oozing a pale yellow liquid tinged with black.
Sensing the door opening, these six figures turned their heads one after another to look at Eric and the others.
The first was the former Nighthawk standing by the door, the last was the man in a cotton shirt sitting behind the astronomy telescope; one of his eyes, with distinct black and white, was still stuck to the lens, so he could only use the remaining eye and a dark hollow socket to sweep over the Red Glove team outside the door.
A faint stench hit Eric and the others' noses, and an indescribable coldness filled the surroundings.
Eric instinctively wanted to raise his hand to tap his tooth to release more spirits, and then use the Nightmare's Beyonder power to forcibly drag all the targets in front of him into a dream.
But no matter how he tapped his tooth, no spirit was released, and his Beyonder abilities related to the Spirit Medium seemed to vanish.
At the same time, a Nightmare in the Red Gloves team also discovered in surprise that he couldn't drag anyone into a dream!
At this moment, except for the enhanced physique from the potion, all their Beyonder powers disappeared, oddly disappeared.
"Leave here!" Eric didn't hesitate and gave the order in a low voice.
This bizarre situation was something he had never encountered before; he could only have the team withdraw first, and then choose sealed artefacts to handle it in a targeted manner.
But his and his team members' feet did not move accordingly, as if they no longer obeyed the commands of their consciousness.
Eric instinctively looked down at his lower body and saw that his legs were already swollen, bulging and about to split his trousers.
In addition, he clearly felt his skin decaying, rotting, oozing pus.
He and his Red Gloves team had not even truly made contact with the target before falling into a clear "nightmare" of watching themselves die, swell, and rot, unable to break free.
At that moment, in Eric's bloodshot eyes reflected a very ordinary hand. It grabbed the door handle and gently pulled it outward.
Bang!
The dark brown door of Room 403 closed again, separating Eric and his Red Gloves team from the creatures inside the room.
They immediately regained control of their bodies, but their legs seemed to have suffered considerable injury, making it difficult to lift them or bend their knees.
Eric, without bothering to check his injuries, quickly turned his gaze to the hand that had closed the door and its owner.
That was a young man in a classical top hat and black robe. His features were ordinary, making an unmemorable impression, forgotten as soon as one turned away.
"I sincerely suggest that you go back now and hand the matter over to the archbishop or the high deacons. Of course, you have another option, and that is to make a wish to me. I am a wandering magician called Merlin Hermes, and I am best at granting other people's wishes." Klein spared no effort in tempting others to make a wish to him.