"2-031," the Hand of Proclamation, was one of two Grade 2 Sealed Artifacts possessed by the Nightwatcher team of Enmat Port. Its classification indicated it was dangerous and required cautious, restrained use.
The artifact resembled an old leather glove designed for the left hand. Its elastic material could stretch moderately, making it comfortable for any normal-built adult to wear.
Once donned, the first sentence uttered after snapping the fingers would become a "Prohibition" effective within a 30-meter radius around the user. This effect lasted about one minute. If used again during this period, the new Prohibition would replace the old one—they could not exist simultaneously.
When a Prohibition took effect, everyone within range—including the user—had to obey it. This made it impossible to declare commands the user couldn't follow, such as "forbid breathing" or "forbid heart from beating."
Through numerous experiments, the Nightwatchers had compiled effective Prohibitions like "forbid jumping" or "forbid using gunpowder weapons." The more specific the command and the smaller its scope, the stronger its effect.
With well-chosen Prohibitions, one could severely limit opponents' combat abilities while emphasizing one's own advantages, easily overpowering adversaries of equal Sequence. Unfortunately, the artifact's effect weakened significantly against Beyonders above Sequence 5 and had no impact on high Sequence Beyonders.
As a powerful Sealed Artifact with few usage restrictions, its negative effects were equally potent.
Wearing the Hand of Proclamation induced a state of inflated self-confidence. Each use of its Beyonder ability intensified this unreasonable belief in oneself. After more than three uses in quick succession, even attempts to convince the user to remove the glove would fail—they would believe themselves omnipotent and fully in control of the artifact, refusing to stop using it.
In this state of extreme confidence, users often acted impulsively in battle or issued Prohibitions they themselves couldn't follow, resulting in their death or their teammates' within moments.
"So this Sealed Artifact is assigned to Rupert Norman. The Prohibitions are strictly limited to two. If he falls into overconfidence, affecting our battle or posing a threat, I will personally seize the artifact," Clement concluded in a low voice.
Angel, Clement, and Rupert were conversing quietly inside a carriage. Concerned that an official vehicle bearing the East Chester County Police Department emblem might expose their identities as Nightwatchers and alert their target, they'd hired an ordinary rental carriage.
Outside, the crimson moon hung high, casting an eerie light over the landscape. The streets appeared strangely enchanting under the red moonlight, with few pedestrians remaining. The smooth stone-paved road had given way to gravel, better suited for drainage. They were approaching the port district.
Ten minutes after Clement finished assigning tasks, the prepared Nightwatchers split into three groups, each heading to their designated location. To prevent communication between the three targets via telegram or mysticism, all groups would act simultaneously at 9 PM.
Angel had used the preparation time to retrieve her equipment from her room—two revolvers, a close-combat dagger, all her demon-hunting bullets, and "Phosphorescent Eruption" in case of combat.
During her previous battle with the wanted Thomatz, she'd discovered that combining Phosphorescent Eruption with the black flames of "Bloodthirst" created devastating wide-area effects. She had loaded one Phosphorescent Eruption bullet into Bloodthirst and done the same for her speed loader: four demon-hunting bullets and one special bullet.
She regretted not having time to make new "Storm Accumulation" ammunition. High-power rounds boosted by Bloodthirst would certainly have even greater destructive capability.
Sitting opposite Angel, Rupert Norman was organizing his own weapons. As a "Midnight Poet" with close-combat capabilities, he carried both a large-caliber revolver and a metal short rod about 30 centimeters long. When he heard Clement had assigned him "2-031," his hands froze.
He looked up at the "Nightmare." Clement held a bronze revolver in his right hand and the Hand of Proclamation—an ordinary-looking old leather glove—in his left.
"You want me to use it?" he asked hesitantly.
Sensing Rupert's doubt, Clement explained: "If I use '2-031' too long and become emotionally unstable, which of you could quickly remove it from my hand? A user with inflated self-confidence won't surrender it willingly."
Both Sequence 8 Beyonders nodded awkwardly, understanding his reasoning.
Seeing no objection from Rupert, Clement turned to Angel.
"You should already be familiar with the fighting styles of 'Nightmare' and 'Midnight Poet' from your time in Tingen City, but we know nothing of your abilities as an 'Assassin.' Please give us a concise introduction."
To avoid hindering each other in battle or being affected by the Hand of Proclamation, Angel openly shared her Assassin abilities, including her charged strike capability. She explained "Phosphorescent Eruption" and its effectiveness against invisible enemies.
As for her promotion to "Instigator" that very day—since it wasn't combat-relevant and she lacked a reasonable excuse—she chose not to inform her teammates.
"This is the bullet you used to injure that 'Mechanical Heart' defector?" Clement asked with slight amusement, examining a "Phosphorescent Eruption" bullet covered in engraved runes.
News travels fast, Angel thought. The three major Church Beyonder organizations in Enmat Port must communicate closely, likely cooperating often.
She nodded in response. "Yes, but the bullet itself has no killing power. It needs my revolver to create a burning effect. I'll avoid hitting you when using it. You should also watch for the glowing powder in the air—if it's golden, it's harmless, but avoid the black flames."
"Black flames..." Clement repeated softly before nodding his understanding.
To avoid wheel noise and horse neighs drawing attention, the rental carriage stopped in a small alley less than 200 meters from Warehouse No. 16.
Even with large searchlights to gather gaslight, venturing to sea at night remained dangerous. The port district, bustling during daylight hours, now stood silent with only homeless vagrants and loitering sailors. All transport workers had returned home to rest for tomorrow's labor.
After watching the carriage depart, Angel and Rupert followed Clement from the alley, bypassed several low buildings, and reached the street facing Warehouse No. 16. Directly opposite stood a row of two-story terraced houses, some serving as shops, others for temporary storage.
The street was deserted. No gas lamps illuminated such places—only the moonlight cast equal brightness on everything below.
As the three approached, a short figure appeared on a rooftop. After observing briefly, he climbed down a drainpipe and silently approached Clement.
Despite the limited light, Angel's dark vision revealed the man clearly: early twenties, wearing dockworker's clothing as disguise, with a round cap on his head.
"Captain, why are you here? Isn't it not shift change time yet?" he asked, glancing at Angel and Rupert.
"The operation was moved up. The three of us will handle the port warehouse," Clement replied directly, transforming the man's initial joy at seeing teammates into serious focus.
"Report the situation. The target hasn't left the warehouse, correct?"
"Yes. Since beginning surveillance this morning, I haven't seen him leave, nor have the armed guards. All workers are off duty now. The warehouse has no back door—they're definitely still inside."
"Excellent. This is optimal—deep night, no innocent civilians, only enemies," Clement nodded with satisfaction. "Andrew, go to the port district police station and find the duty chief. Bring the police team that often works with us. Have them armed but tell them not to enter the warehouse, even if they hear gunfire—they should wait until the battle concludes."
"If unfamiliar persons exit, they should shoot immediately. If there's no movement for an extended period, they should wait for support from other teams. The police are to secure the perimeter, not engage in Beyonder combat."
The capped man Andrew acknowledged the order with a cautious nod.
"Go quickly. We'll wait here until the operation time, then enter the warehouse directly."
Clement waved dismissively, and Andrew slipped between the terraced houses to leave via the street behind. The port district police station was nearly a kilometer away—even running would take about ten minutes.
As the footsteps faded, Clement drew his brass revolver, cocked the hammer, then checked his pocket watch—it was exactly the agreed time for all three teams to act.
He glanced at his companions. Seeing them with weapons drawn and ready, he finally gave the command:
"Action."