Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Raizel wasted no time.

His blade sliced through the air, cutting down the remaining gunmen with ruthless precision.

Their flesh and bones gave way like tofu beneath his sword.

Limbs and torsos split apart, blood spraying across the alley walls in violent arcs.

The last four remaining players stood frozen, their faces pale with horror.

They had come here confident, believing they had the numbers, the skills, the advantage.

But now?

Now they stood before a monster.

Their bodies trembled, their voices breaking in fear.

"Alastor… you brought us here to die!"

"He's not human—he's a devil!"

"Curse you, Alastor!"

With that they ran desperately.

Seeing this, Raizel's crimson eyes gleamed under the dim alley lights.

They couldn't be allowed to escape.

He had done the unthinkable.

And now, he would finish it to the end.

Without hesitation, he lunged toward them, his sword thirsty for more.

Meanwhile, Alastor, once so arrogant, so full of himself, was already fleeing.

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him away as fast as they could.

His mind screamed in terror. His pride was all gone.

With tail tucked between his legs, he fled in the opposite direction, desperate to escape the nightmare.

Swoosh!

"Go meet your ancestors in heaven, classmate."

"No, I don't wa—"

Slash!

A clean cut and a body fell.

"Spare me, I'm a girl!" another voice screamed.

"I don't care!"

Schlick!

A choked gasp. Blood sprayed against the alley walls.

"Guh! Y-You're… you're a devil!"

The screams of horror echoed, but no one came to help.

No one would.

Raizel's hands dripped red, warm and sticky with fresh blood. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady motions.

His crimson eyes narrowed, and hus snowy white hair fluttered in the night breeze.

Then, without thinking, without hesitation, he raised his hand to his lips.

Lick.

The taste was sharp, metallic.

And strangely... satisfying.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"....."

Then suddenly something clicked on his mid and he froze.

"What am I doing?"

A whisper. A thought. A warning.

This... wasn't like him.

He didn't have these twisted hobbies.

He wasn't supposed to enjoy this.

Raizel clenched his fist, shaking off the intrusive thoughts. But before he could dwell on it any further—

His gaze snapped to a figure fleeing at the far end of the alley.

Alastor.

If he got away, Raizel would be in deep trouble.

Considering Alastor's father and his powerful background, the consequences would be severe.

Would the Apex Guild protect him?

Maybe.

But he was just a new member.

And the judicial system was strict.

It wouldn't matter if Raizel was the victim. Who would believe him over a noble's son?

No one.

So he couldn't take that risk.

He had to end this once and for all.

Whoosh!

Raizel's body moved like a galloping horse, his enhanced senses locking onto Alastor's scent.

With [ Red Berserker ] still active, he moved like a predator chasing its prey.

And soon—very soon—Alastor would realize that no matter how fast he ran...

Death was faster.

Alastor took a sharp turn into the right alleyway, vanishing from Raizel's direct line of sight.

His heart pounded like a war drum, his breaths ragged as he fumbled inside his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Beep, beep!"

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

But no answer.

"Come on, Dad... pick up the damn phone!" he hissed, barely above a whisper.

He didn't dare raise his voice. Not when that monster was chasing him.

His fingers trembled as he redialed, sweat dripping down his temple.

Why?

Why did things turn out this way?

Raizel was supposed to be a lamb waiting to be slaughter.

Nothing but a shadow in the background.

But tonight, he had been something else entirely.

Something monstrous and terrifying.

And now, Alastor was running for his life.

His mind swirled with panic, but then his thoughts drifted to Cecilia.

The one who had caused all of this was his obsession. She was his reason for trying to eliminate Raizel in the first place.

And now he realized it was all her fault.

She had put him in this situation.

If she had just accepted him, if she had just been obedient, none of this would have happened.

His expression twisted into a snarl, his grip tightening around the phone.

"That bitch…" he spat under his breath.

"If I get out of this alive, I'll torture both of them to death."

"Beep!"

Just as Alastor's panic reached its peak, the phone buzzed, and his eyes lit up with hope.

A deep, hearty chuckle came from the other side.

"Haha! What is my dear son up to now?"

Relief flooded Alastor's face, but he had no time for pleasantries. His voice shook as if his very life depended on this call.

"D-Dad, I'm in trouble! They're all dead! All of them!"

A pause.

Then, his father's tone turned sharp.

"Huh? Who's dead? And who has such audacity?"

Alastor swallowed hard, his voice trembling.

"They're finished… My men… They're all gone! His name is R—"

"Puchi!"

A sickening sound echoed.

Alastor's body stiffened and his voice died in his throat.

Then his fingers loosened. As such the phone slipped from his grip, crashing onto the pavement.

Blood bubbled in his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

He looked down to see a sharp, pointy metal protruded from his throat, glistening with fresh blood.

His vision blurred. But he recognized the weapon instantly.

It was his own spear. The very one he had dropped in his moment of desperation.

His knees buckled and darkness swallowed him whole.

"Hello? Hello?! Son, what happened to you?"

The voice on the other end was growing increasingly impatient.

Raizel walked over, his gaze settling on the still-lit phone lying beside Alastor's lifeless body. The screen displayed a man's profile—his father.

Then, the voice changed.

"Heh… What have you done to my son? Tell me, what do you want? How much money do you need?"

Raizel didn't answer. He focused on cleaning up the evidence, moving with practiced efficiency.

The silence only fueled the other man's anger. His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"Bastard… Whoever you are, if my son has even a single scratch, I will find you. And when I do, I'll peel off your tendons, strip your skin slowly, and carve you apart piece by piece."

Raizel finally picked up the phone. His voice was calm, indifferent.

"You're free to try…"

"Crunch!"

With that, he crushed the phone in his grip, shattering it into pieces.

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