Let's rewind to just a moment ago, when Bartley was lifting Tilia.
"Stay put on the boat!" Bartley grunted, hoisting Tilia up into the ceiling-hung boat. The icy floodwater surged in, now nearly high enough to submerge a person's head. Tilia tumbled and scrambled into the boat, gasping for breath. Girls have lots of things they're scared of—like water if they can't swim, and gross animals. Especially the gross animals: those send them into full-on panic mode.
Lying at the bottom of the boat, Tilia caught her breath, then crawled to the edge to look out. The torrent had already flooded in, and she could see many people struggling in the water. A plastic box floated past, with a puppy inside, whimpering helplessly. The puppy looked up, locking eyes with Tilia above. Those pitiful, starry eyes made Tilia's heart clench; she instinctively reached out to grab the puppy.
"Don't worry, little one, I'm here to save you." She reached into the water, grabbing the box—and something cold and slimy. When she pulled her hand up, along with the puppy, there was also a snake!
Hiss! The thick water boa flicked its tongue and bared its fangs at Tilia.
"Aaaah—!" Tilia shrieked at the top of her lungs, stumbling backward in panic. She didn't watch her step and, with a tumble, rolled right out of the boat. In her frantic flailing, her arm accidentally slapped the motor's start button.
As Tilia hit the water, the boat's turbine roared to life, churning up a powerful whirlpool in the small space.
"Watch your scarf!" Jack Young's shout echoed from nearby, but Tilia, flailing in the water, didn't hear him at all.
"No, honey, watch your hair!" Bartley shouted as he swam over. Tilia fought to keep her head above water and yelled back, "What did you say?"
The next instant—whirr!—her scarf and hair got sucked into the engine. With a sharp scream, Tilia was yanked toward the spinning turbine. The cold, gleaming blades slashed across her head and face. Blood sprayed, her cries echoed—enough to send chills down anyone's spine.
Whoosh—a flash of cold steel flew in from afar. It was Jack Young, hurling a steel knife with all his might. In the blink of an eye, the blade lodged itself in the center of the engine, jamming the mechanism with a clang. With a swift flick, he sent another blade spinning through the air, slicing clean through the tangled hair and scarf.
Splash! Tilia dropped back into the water, and Bartley scrambled to catch her. He lifted his dark beauty, only to see her face mangled beyond recognition, shredded by the blades. Tilia struggled to say something, but in the end, her head slumped to the side—silent.
Blood gushed from the wounds on her head, face, and neck, painting Bartley red.
"No—!!"
Jack Young's eyes widened—another survivor had died, right before his eyes! It was that snake that caused Tilia to panic, which ultimately cost her her life! But Jack frowned; the deadly tension in the air hadn't faded. Death's work was far from done.
Boom! Something exploded in the distance, blue flames blooming on the water's surface. Jack's ears twitched—he dodged a shard aimed at the back of his head, then spun around, swatting away other flying debris. "Bartley, get out of here—now!" Jack yelled as he fought off the barrage. "It's not over! Death will strike again!"
Bartley gritted his teeth at Jack's words. With a roar of pain, he let go of Tilia's hand. Fighting back tears, Bartley turned to Jack, then shouted, "Jack, look out!"
"Huh?" Jack's ears perked up just as a rack of knives came crashing down. Sharp blades rained toward his back. Something tangled his legs—there was no time to dodge. As Jack tried to turn and defend himself, a knife blade stabbed into his back.
In that instant, the stabbing pain shot through Jack's mind like an urgent messenger. He knew, with the knife's speed and sharpness, it would sink deep into his muscle. Then, the heavy box right behind would slam the knife into his heart—like a hammer driving a nail.
Death was already at his back.
In that instant, Jack's world slowed down.
It wasn't like seeing snow fall in slow motion, nor the heightened hearing of rain—he felt his entire reaction speed accelerate. The skin where the knife touched, about to be cut, suddenly shrank inward. Shrinking, shrinking again, as if a tiny wine glass had formed in his back.
Then, the side of that little 'wine glass' sprang up. Like a battering ram, not huge but impossible to ignore, it struck the side of the blade.
Crack! The knife aimed straight at Jack's back, in a situation where it couldn't possibly miss, was miraculously knocked sideways! It didn't change direction much, but instead of stabbing his back, it glanced off his shoulder. Jack's shoulder, slick as a river stone, shrugged and twisted, letting the knife slide off like water.
Turn, strike, block!
Jack swung his palms again and again, slapping the incoming knives on their sides. They flew off sideways, none able to hurt him. When the chaos settled, Jack pressed his hands together and let out a long breath, even a trace of exhaustion crossing his brow. That brief moment of impossible muscle control, that zero-distance force redirection no human should manage, left him feeling utterly spent.
That's the price of using power beyond his current level. He'd felt this strange sensation before—on that train to Tianjin, the moment the gunman raised his weapon. The dizziness and weakness afterward were just as familiar.
Jack forced himself to stay alert, just about to lead Bartley away, when—silently—a broken electric wire dangled down, its exposed copper brushing right against Jack's back.
"Ugh!" An indescribable sensation swept through his body—pain, numbness, heat, all mixed with shivers. Jack summoned the last of his strength to shake off the wire, but it clung to him like the world's trickiest snake, stuck to his skin and impossible to escape.
Death had struck again.
The powerful shock left Jack unable to control his body, collapsing into the water. He couldn't even take a deep breath before falling. The current couldn't kill him, but it could paralyze him, leaving him utterly helpless. He was about to drown.
Jack saw Bartley, who was fighting his way over with a laundry pole. But the surging water kept pushing him back—he wasn't going to make it.
Is this the omen of the next attack?—That was Jack's last thought before losing consciousness. (The Death arc is almost over; planning for the next story has begun. The real-world plot is clear, and soon, Jill will make a big move—a whole new chapter for her! Jill's origin world, her true home, will debut in that story. Stay tuned for the Queen's triumphant return!)