Jack activated his specter's [Status Effect: Battle Spirit].
The world seemed to drop into slow motion around him. Energy surged through his ethereal form. An overwhelming tide of power appeared. He braced against it. Forcing it to infuse his whole existence.
His spectral and shimmering body began to distort. No longer as transparent. The edges of his form solidified into a glowing white outline. Stark and blinding against the dim, grimy warehouse.
The spectral white of his eyes intensified. Becoming twin points of blazing light that burned with an pure white fire. The shadow that typically consumed his face and body deepened. Becoming an absolute void. Massively contrasting to his burning eyes.
His stage-magician's mask was gone. Replaced by this abyss where only the eyes burned. His top hat seemed to widen. Elongating. Casting a deeper shadow over his featureless face.
The flowing dark cape he wore as a specter billowed out. No longer an airy phantom cloak. But heavier, more substantial. A cloak of woven night.
And his hands. They weren't just spectral hands anymore. The Spirit Torch, his spectral weapon, had melted. Fused with them.
They now blazed with that intense white light. Looking like hands wreathed in captured star-fire. Radiating raw spiritual power.
Jack didn't wait. His glowing hands snapped forward. The air itself seemed to crackle and tear. From the ethereal palms, a volley of [Magic Missiles] erupted. Dozens of them.
These weren't the weak spell he had once cast. These were bolts of pure, extremely concentrated spiritual force. Each one blazing with destructive intent.
They struck the Emissary's golden hide with the force of ballista bolts. Crack! Crack! Crack! The sound was less like an explosion. And more like the fracturing of granite.
Previously, such attacks would have merely annoyed the creature. Perhaps chipped a small piece of its stony exterior. Now, the missiles burrowed deep. Leaving smoking, jagged cracked holes on its metallic hide.
"Evil brute!" Jack's voice resonated. No longer a phantom voice. But a booming echo that filled the warehouse. Chilling everyone to the bone.
"You thought you were invincible?" He continued. "You thought your master's foul blessing made you untouchable? Let me teach you the power of Vengeance!"
The Emissary recoiled. Its gemstone eyes swirled in what could only be rage. It shrieked. Emitting sound like grinding metal. And lunged. Its massive, clawed hand swept towards Jack. Intending to swat him like a fly.
Jack lowered his floating body. His glowing hands moved with blurring speed. Slamming into the grimy ground.
The ground erupted. Vines of pure, luminous energy shot out of it. They were the thick, glowing [Vines of Entanglement].
These weren't mere plant matter. They were constructs of pure spiritual energy. And these ones were crackling with white fire. They shot upwards. Wrapping around the Emissary's legs, torso, then its arms. Binding it with incredible force.
The creature roared. Straining against the glowing bonds. Its raw strength was immense. The energy vines seemed groaning under the pressure. But the vines held.
They tightened. Digging into the Emissary's flesh. Causing its golden hide to crack even more.
The Emissary was enraged and momentarily immobilized. It opened its maw. A searing ball of green, sickly energy swirled within his mouth. Smelling of decay and greed.
Jack simply raised one of his white-hot hands. Two shimmering, swiring dark wards materialized in the air. The [Portal Wards].
The Emissary launched an energy shot from its throat. Aimed directly at Jack.
But one swirling dark ward had exactly appeared in front of it. Absorbing the entirety of the Emissary's energy beam without so much as a ripple.
The other one had appeared above the creature's head. Facing downward. With a flick of Jack's wrist, the absorbed energy was violently expelled from the second ward. Slamming down onto the Emissary's skull.
The creature staggered. Its gemstone eyes rolling wildly. The energy beam, its own power, now turned against it. Sizzled and scorched the top of its head. It roared in frustration. A guttural sound of pain and indignity.
"Poor thing." Jack muttered in heavy sarcasm. "Just like your Master. A useless thing. A pathetic being dreaming of stupid things."
The Emissary was enraged. It redoubled its efforts against the vines. Muscles rippled under its golden hide. The spiritual vines began to fray. The white fire was flickering.
It would break free soon. Jack knew this. He wasn't aiming for a prolonged battle of attrition. He was aiming for an execution.
This creature was a manifestation of avarice. A servant of a corrupt god. It fed on injustice. On the stolen sufferings experienced by the kidnapped children.
If Jack hadn't interfered, it would be very likely that the abducted street-kids would be tortured and sacrificed to this creature. This thing had to be destroyed.
He raised both his glowing hands. Channeling a vast amount of spiritual energy. The air around him shimmered. Distorting. White-hot lines of pure power arced from his hands. Converging on the struggling Emissary.
The creature seemed to sense the shift. A primal fear flickering in its gemstone eyes. It shrieked. A desperate, pained sound as the energy enveloped it.
"Let's see how useless you are." Jack intoned coldly. His voice was low and dangerous.
The [Forceful Frog-morph] spell was designed to turn the target into a literal frog. For a short while. But, this time, Jack spontaneously modified and overcharged it.
The Emissary's massive, wealth-themed form began to ripple. Uncontrollably. Its solid layers of gold hide and flesh were liquefied. Then solidified into grotesque, warty forms.
Its huge clawed hands shrank. Becoming stubby, webbed appendages. Its gemstone eyes bulged. Distending from its head. Its legs buckled. And it collapsed onto its knees.
A massive, malformed, amphibian-like parody of its former self. Still enormous, but utterly pathetic. Its roars turned into choked, gurgling croaks.
It wasn't a frog. Not really. It was a monstrous, writhing mass of corrupted flesh. And minimal spiritual energy. Stripped of its gold and gemstones. Striped of its power.
Its very essence warped into something small and inconsequential. The transformation was a forced regression. And malignant mutation. A mockery of its supposed divine blessing.
The creature thrashed around. Its newly useless limbs were flailing. Its croaks were filled with a raw, impotent rage.
This was the window. This was the moment.
Jack stepped back. His Battle Spirit form radiated cold, precise power. He didn't need to speak a final taunt. His actions would speak for him.
His right hand, blazing with pure white fire, snapped out. It wasn't a punch. Nor a grab. It was a gesture of absolute finality.
From his hand, a blade of absolute void materialized. Not a physical object. But a cut in reality. A tear in the fabric of existence itself.
It was supercharged [Void Cut].
The blade of void flashed. There was no sound. No resistance. It sliced through the warped, struggling form of the Emissary of Wealth. As if it were tofu. The creature, caught mid-croak, mid-thrash, simply ceased to live.
The upper half of its body was now a grotesque, froglike head and torso. It slid silently from the lower half.
There was no blood. No gore. Only slight corrupted energy that pulsed for a moment. Then fizzled into nothingness.
The two halves of the Emissary dissolved. Not into dust or ash. But simply unmade. As if they had never existed.
The stench of decay vanished. The oppressive aura of avarice lifted from the warehouse.
A silence fell. Profound and absolute.
Jack stood still for a moment. His Battle Spirit form was blazing. The twin points of light in his shadowed face were scanning the silent warehouse.
The surviving City Enforcers and Priests of Prosperity stared. Mouths agape. At the spot where the creature had been. And then at the blazing, terrifying specter that had just obliterated it.
Then, the first rays of dawn appeared in the eastern horizon. Painting the sky with its early streak of golden light.
Jack felt his Battle Spirit begin to recede. The power that had been his strength now felt like an unbearable burden.
His form shimmered. The glowing white edges faded. The burning eyes dimmed. The cloak of night receded. The top hat shrank back to normal. The mask returned.
Jack let his body float up. His lips, hidden by his mask, curled in a small, satisfied smirk. He had delivered justice. He had eliminated a threat. He had ensured the children were safe. And he had done it with style.
"Consider this a wake-up call, Lonestone people!" Jack's voice. Now an ethereal whisper. Echoed faintly in the survivors' ears. "Your corruption breeds monsters. Learn to take care of them before they become too strong for you to handle. Do not expect others will always be there to save your ass."
Before any of the stunned onlookers could react. Before Commander Thorne could even lower his greatsword... Jack's form blurred. Dissolving into the incoming sunlight.
He was gone. Leaving only questions. And the chilling realization of how close they were to death.