"Boss, we should dispatch the grunt's body. Our noses are aching!"
If not all, then almost all of the Fang minions had gone out. Even so, the smell of Clythar's burnt flesh surged through the air. Probably not long enough; the filthy residents in the shanty town would notice and find out. Not that they could do anything.
Laroue City is a lawless region. Gangs killing whoever they wanted was pretty common.
"STOP! STAY AWAY FROM ME! STOP! STOP!" Clythar's sister kept on mumbling in her sleep.
The boss stood up from the bed and strode towards the sack of money Clythar had brought home. Glancing at the amount inside, annoyance was an understatement.
The amount inside was nowhere near what he owed. The interest, which was threefold the amount he originally borrowed, was not included in the sack.
His head heated in fury. He sent the sack flying towards wherever. His feet punched, smacked, and smashed Clythar from face to stomach.
"Take him out. And nobody gets inside. I am going to have his sister pay for the interest."
Clythar, along with the doctor, was being shoved into a large sack. As the hoodlums were carrying out their boss' orders, the boss went back to the bed, removed his shirt, and climbed on top of the defenseless maiden. Her constant blabbering was getting on his nerves, but he could just stuff anything in her mouth.
Somehow, her mystery illness included her nightmares coming only to a stop once injected with a drug. For the boss, it was the best time of his life.
His hand reached the first button, the second button, the third one, and up to the last one. For each button he had undone, the lust inside him grew stronger and wilder. Her skin was rough and dry, but such a thing would not stop a horrid man like him.
She still had a camisole underneath. All he had to do was tear it apart, and everything she has been hiding will all be revealed. In such good timing, the hoodlums screamed in unison.
What were they still doing there anyway? His task was so easy and they could not do it. A bunch of good-for-nothing muscle men!
"The fuck are you-ARGHHH!"
It was fast and sudden. He felt it. He has been punctured on his neck, left and right. Each second was a penetrating horror, with whatever that thing was digging deeper into his skin.
It was ironic—how he wailed like a toddler when he looked like a disfigured hippo bathed with tattoos and violence.
"Oh. Does it hurt? I am so sorry," a girl's voice, sweet and soft, uttered.
He was so out of it, but he managed to open his teary eyes and look to the front. There he was, Clythar, presumed dead a while ago, lifting his ass into the air with his thumb and index finger serving as an anchor.
His skin was pale. The dark purple hue that sketched his veins was still as clear as ever.
The boss wanted to free himself, pulling away from his grip, but he was burned by his freezing skin. What's unusual about him, aside from being basically a living corpse, was his eyes. From black and doe, it had turned to green with vertical slits, like a cat's.
Clythar made a triumphant giggle.
"How does it feel to be the one in pain now?" he mocked him, the voice of the little girl surprisingly coming from him.
Yet, Clythar did not give him a chance to speak. His fingers penetrated enough to damage his vocal cords.
He moved like lightning, scratching the boss against the bamboo walls until his back bled out. He smashed him into the floor, creating an enormous pit.
He smashed, gnashed, and thrashed the man's sinful body so that what that man did to him earlier became unworthy of even matching what he's doing to him now.
The minions crashed inside, hearing violent noises. Clythar turned to them and felt the urge to go all out for a bloodbath. These people hurt him and his sister. He is a different person now. He would stop at nothing until every single one of them is dead.
Clythar did not take his time and ran amok in the place. With his miraculous revival came heightened senses and strength.
One punch to the chin, and that person was sent flying through the roof. One stab of his finger to the chest, and it would penetrate their hearts.
How many minions there were, he did not count, nor did he care. What mattered was that all of them were taken care of.
With every bit of life in those minions sucked dry, Clythar went back to the boss, who was very much still breathing after all of that. He was lying on the floor, motionless.
Their eyes met, and the boss pleaded for his life with his eyes. Clythar, however, was no longer Clythar.
"Die, you ugly bastard."
Then, the boss finally lost his life, Clythar's fingers piercing into his forehead.
The stench of blood could be smelled everywhere. Bodies were scattered in and out of the house. Their house could even barely resemble a house after all that chaos. There were holes in the roof, in the floor, and in the bamboo walls.
Among all this mess, his eyes still found their way to his sister, who remained unharmed. He made sure of that.
His lust for blood was still there but naturally dissipated at the sight of her. He searched for something inside the house. He came to the sack he was in and found the doctor dead, along with his mini suitcase. He grabbed the suitcase and opened it. Inside were vials of drugs he injected into his sister to wake her up.
Each vial contained a single dose. He grabbed a syringe and filled it with the drug from one of the vials. He stuck the syringe directly on the top of her head, like what he had seen the doctor do.
The effect was immediate, and his sister finally stopped talking in distress. Her eyes twitched, signaling her nearing waking up.
Clythar's eyes transformed from green to black, and the slits became circles. His nails that had grown unnaturally pointed shrunk back to nothing. His thoughts were no longer clouded with anger. He reverted back to the human that he was.
Clythar could not believe his eyes. The scene in front of him was not the scene that he left earlier.
"W-What happened?" His voice was trembling.
He noticed how everyone had no life except for his sister, who was unconscious, and him, whose hands had been stained with blood.
"C-Cly?"
The sound of his sister's voice felt like a knight in shining armor, saving him from the realization of what transpired.
He enveloped his sister in a tight hug in a heartbeat. Relinquishing himself onto her, feeling exhausted, confused, and frightened.
"C-Cly, you're heavy," she uttered.
Yet, he did not move an inch. Probably just didn't squeeze himself much into her.
"Hehe."
Clythar froze. A voice of a woman echoed inside his mind. And it was hauntingly familiar, like the voice of that woman he saw in that ominous place.
"Wasn't I dreaming?" he thought.
Clythar noticed the purple hue in his protruding veins, a sign of the poisoning he had suffered. Yet, he was moving like no such thing happened. Aside from a tired body, he was in no pain.
Without warning, the purple hue gradually disappeared, starting from his limbs to his trunk to his head. Clythar was taken aback and could not believe what he just saw.
"What is this?" he thought.
Then, the woman's voice in his head chuckled.
"Thank me later. We'll see each other sometime again."
And just like that, the woman was gone. It was only him, his sister, and the pile of rotting bodies.