Chapter 5 Another Encounter with the Illuminati

After satisfying his nicotine craving, the man exhaled contentedly, then turned and noticed Fang Senyan. Surprisingly, he didn't even bother with an oxygen mask before standing up and walking toward him.

When he'd removed the mask, Fang Senyan saw that the man was a bald, fierce-looking fellow with a dark red scar that ran from his left forehead to his left mouth. Although the scar had long since healed, the rough, raised flesh still hinted at the savage violence of the blade that had caused it.

Clearly, his left eye hadn't survived that brutal attack; the entire eyeball must have been cleaved through, a torrent of black, white, and red flowing out. However, his left eye now shone with a bright light, evidently repaired by the Nightmare Space. The bald, scarred man sized up Fang Senyan, his tone amiable, lacking the arrogance one might expect:

"Hey, brother, what's up? We Illuminati have already reserved this North exit."

"Illuminati...!!!" The words flashed through Fang Senyan's mind. He immediately recalled the information Reef had provided:

"...That was my team's second clash with the Illuminati!"

"Damn, does that mean Bowen, the one I killed in Pirates of the Caribbean, was one of these guys?"

"One of them even said he wanted my skull as a trophy."

"The core of this team seems to be a woman named Zi! She's skilled in using the Force from Star Wars!"

"This team is clearly like the Banks Gang we encountered before, with a well-organized structure, strict rules, and even a joint council to decide team actions..."

This series of data rapidly flowed through Fang Senyan's mind. He knew that this world was a free-for-all, where killing might incur slaughter points, but it could also bring benefits. If these guys recognized him as Contractor 1018, they would be more than happy to join forces and make him disappear from this world.

Fang Senyan was far from capable of taking on dozens of enemies by himself, so the best course of action was to slip away. However, Fang Senyan's Perception was as high as 28 points, making it extremely difficult for anyone to suppress his senses.

Furthermore, the "Las-Pulse Jammer" built into his helmet could interfere with enemy detection and had a high priority! So, unless he ran into a Reserve Colonist, the chances of being identified as Contractor 1018 were slim. Even if he did encounter a Reserve Colonist, considering the world had just begun, no one would be foolish enough to use their ultimate move right away, especially since that ultimate move could only be used four times before challenging the limit.

Although many thoughts flashed through Fang Senyan's mind, to others, he simply seemed to hesitate, a normal reaction when encountering a stranger, which didn't seem unusual. He immediately smiled politely and said to the bald, scarred man:

"I'm a sailor. Hello. I'm guessing your team could use some extra help, like a free and powerful buff?"

The bald, scarred man suddenly burst into laughter, turning to a pale, thin man in black mage robes holding a staff:

"Aha, dear Mord, and lovely Fria, someone wants to steal your business."

As a complete and powerful team, the Illuminati naturally cultivated their own support-type Contractors. Mord, the Death Hunger, was one of them. His right hand, protruding from his mage robe, always had a patch of decaying flesh. The ability he had learned was called Rotting Curse, which reduced the target's physical and magical defense by 10% and inflicted continuous stinging damage.

However, when he cursed himself, his mental power would surge, absorbing the death energy from the ground and scattering it around, so that each attack from his allies would inflict extra damage from dark power, the damage ranging from 6% to 10% of the attack. Because dark power was actually elemental damage, and only specific creatures had dark element resistance, the actual damage amplification to his allies was at least between 12% and 13%.

Fria was a sniper, and he and Fang Senyan had something in common. Strictly speaking, Fria was much weaker than the late Joel in terms of attack power, but he was also favored by the god of luck and obtained a Tier 4 talent tree skill, which he had already upgraded to Tier 3.

This talent tree ability was called Precision: For Fria himself, in combat, his hit rate increased by 3% and his critical hit rate increased by 2% for every 2 seconds he aimed at the same target, with a maximum critical hit rate increase of 20%.

As for Fria's allies, each successful hit from Fria would create a shockwave within a certain range, increasing the hit rate of allies within the range by 1% and the critical hit rate by 1%. This effect could not be stacked at present.

These two Contractors were typical of those who could both fight and provide support, and they were quite remarkable after they grew up. For the time being, the Illuminati were quite satisfied with them.

Why did the bald, scarred man suddenly mention "stealing business"? That's because the rules of the Space were like this: Fang Senyan was not a member of their team, so if the Illuminati accepted the beneficial status Fang Senyan gave, then the Space would automatically give priority to him in distributing the additional battlefield contribution points, and Mord and Fria within the team would naturally not get any.

To put it bluntly, beneficial states can coexist, but only one party can reap the benefits.

This was actually a protective behavior set up by the Space. Compared to individuals, teams were bound to be the stronger party. The purpose of this was to protect the interests of the weaker individuals and to encourage teams to actively absorb support-type talents.

Mord and Fria were both very conceited. After hearing the bald, scarred man's words, neither of them responded. One wouldn't even take his eye away from the scope, completely ignoring Fang Senyan's existence; the other was self-absorbed, examining his staff as if it weren't a staff but a naked beauty. The disdain for Fang Senyan was palpable.

A burly man with disheveled hair and unusually long hands snorted through his nostrils and waved his hand:

"Akafeel, you're so long-winded. Just tell him to scram. Last time I met an idiot who boasted about his support abilities, but all he had was some crappy +3% life recovery speed! We've cultivated very strong support mainstays in our team, there's no room for you."

Fang Senyan raised his eyelids, but his heart stirred. This guy's voice sounded familiar, as if he were the one who had sworn to take his skull as a trophy. The large man was sitting casually on the grassy slope, with a black, swirling giant blade beside him. The surface of the giant blade was dim, but like a boiling pot, wisps of black gas would occasionally emerge from it.

"Seybl, I should have let that viper wolf tear your damn mouth apart!" The bald, scarred man Akafeel laughed and cursed. Then he turned to Fang Senyan and shrugged his shoulders:

"I'm really sorry, brother, looks like you'll have to find work elsewhere."

Fang Senyan noticed that Akafeel seemed to be the leader of the Illuminati. He hadn't put on his oxygen mask since he started smoking, and it had been at least two minutes, yet he was still energetic and unharmed. Moreover, no one else seemed surprised.

This was enough to show that his resistance to abnormal statuses had reached a terrifying level. Either he had something like the "Troll's Tenacity," or he had a very powerful talent! If a Contractor who specialized in spell attacks faced him, it would be a very headache-inducing matter!

Hearing Akafeel's eviction order, Fang Senyan couldn't have wanted it more. He had a guilty conscience, so he immediately turned to leave. But at that moment, his pupils suddenly constricted, and a powerful threat suddenly transmitted from the sky above. His perception, far exceeding that of the others, began to give warning a fraction of a second in advance!

Fang Senyan looked up and saw seven or eight small dots suddenly burst out of the funnel-shaped white clouds in the sky, even scattering a few wisps of cloud like cotton. In just five or six seconds, they swooped down towards the ground with a howl that carried a storm wind and was indescribably terrifying!

These uninvited guests initially looked somewhat similar to pterosaurs on Earth, but their skin was patterned like that of lizards. Their broad, flat wings had translucent membranes, and they flew by covering the bones with wing membranes. They looked like both fat bats and manta rays swimming in the ocean, and the most striking thing was their mouths. Their lower jaws protruded forward at least seven or eight centimeters, and their mouths were full of sharp teeth.

These flying monsters varied in size. Now that they were flying closer, it could be seen that an adult's wingspan could reach 12 meters long! Even the smaller ones had a wingspan of seven or eight meters. This was the Banshee of Pandora (also known as the Banshee), and the origin of their name came from their signature hiss, like the bnee—the wailing of the banshee in Irish legends, which foretells death.