NOVEL NEXT Chapter 27: Mass Slaughter
It was morning—an eerily peaceful one at that. Ling's unconscious body lay at the corner of a hidden alley.
Her body stirred lightly as she began to awaken. The rising sun begun to shed its brilliance on her tender skin, illuminating her visage, which in turn hastened her awakening.
Her brows furrowed as she opened her eyes, albeit slightly, revealing a blurry sight. She sat up, her mind quickly churning in confusion.
Where am I?
Where is my son?
She questioned internally as she stumbled trying to get on her feet.
Then her vision cleared—everything quickly snapping into high definition.
Suddenly, a coppery scent of blood wafted into her nostrils, drawing her attention to what lay in front of her.
Her face slowly warped in horror as she froze paralyzed from fear, as an influx of memories from the previous night assailing her mind.
A deformed, bloodied figure was hung on the wall before her—his limbs twisted in unnatural directions.
His skin looked eerie and grotesque, as though it had been peeled delicately and worn back on him inside out.
His bowels were riddled with lacerations, with parts of his innards jutting out. Most disturbingly, his extra limb—the one that was supposed to be between his legs—had been cut off and, by some unknown means, attached to his forehead.
And then, a whisper drifted from the corpse.
"I-I'm… s-sorry… please… forgive… me."
Her figure trembled in realization—the man was still alive.
And worse, she knew him. He was the drunk who had tried to assult her the previous night.
Her mind turned blank as she responded in the only way she knew how…
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed in terror.
And as though in tow, a cacophony of screams erupted across the city, as countless others encountered similarly mangled figures and corpses—some dead, some barely clinging to life.
It was a horrifying morning indeed for the Yang Empire.
And the city guards would be having their hands full with a futile investigation.
Meanwhile, the perpetrator of all this lay calmly in his room, deep in thought.
…
Spark had spent the night satisfying his darker urges—hunting criminals who deserved death and ridding the world of its scourges.
He felt no sympathy. He felt no guilt. They had made countless lives miserable and even taken some. It was only fair that they received retribution.
His eyes flashed with a complicated light as he recalled something one of the criminals had said to him before dying:
"You're no different from us—no, you're even worse… What gives you the right to judge us? Just because you're stronger? No worries. I accept my death today with no grievances—but be sure to accept yours when it's time…"
At the time, Spark hadn't cared much for those words. His urges were at their peak. In fact, he'd beheaded the sharp-tongued fool immediately after.
But now, he was sober, he couldn't help but wonder…
What made me like this?
Since he could remember, he had been battling these growing urges.
At first, they were easily satisfied—he'd butcher a few rodents and he'd feel relieved. But little by little, they became insatiable. They grew.
He graduated from hunting cattle and deer to wild predators like coyotes and bears.
If his foster father hadn't come into his life when he did, his first human prey might have just been a civilian—or worse, even a hero.
Thinking to this point, he shook his head, attempting to banish such vain thoughts. Wearing a wry smile, he muttered, "Whatever. When my retribution comes, I'll face it head-on. Till then, I can only channel it into the right places."
He stood and opened the single window of his room, allowing the rising sun to cast out the shadows and illuminate his bandaged figure. His Input failed once more to detect solar energy from the beams of light.
But he didn't care. The screams and commotion of the city were enough for him.
He took a seat by the window. Spreading his palms, he placed a gold coin on them, ready to test something…
A faint glow shimmered as the coin slowly lost its luster, rapidly becoming ashen gray.
He raised his hand and blew.
Puff!
It scattered into the air like dust as though it had lost its previous metallic properties.
"When did my Input advance?" he contemplated.
Last night, he had discovered—during his murder spree—that his Input had evolved.
Previously, it only worked on things of pure energy. But that had changed. Now, not only could he absorb energy—he could absorb the energy contained in matter.
'Meaning my Output also has the potential to evolve further,' he pondered.
He could only assume that his Input evolved because he had gained total mastery over it, coupled with some unknown factors—probably crossing into this world. That was what allowed the ability to evolve.
But he knew full well that his Output was far from reaching those requirements. In fact, it was so poor, he couldn't even heal the injuries inflicted by those masters.
This evolution of his was strange because, as he could recall, only by attaining Zenith could a mutant's ability evolve to a perfect state.
He assumed he was still far from this, but it seemed he was wrong…
Just then, his train of thought was interrupted by two familiar voices coming from across the door.
"Missus and Sir, please listen to me… the young sir said he wants no disturbance!" Hai pleaded, trying to persuade.
"Hmph! Don't worry, he's a friend of ours. He wouldn't be angry… Little lad, go rest. You won't be implicated, I promise," Guo replied.
Hai stood firmly in the corridor that led to Spark's abode, refusing entry to Guo and a mysterious lady in a veil.
Given the impression Spark had left the previous day, Hai was doing everything he could to not offend him.
Until his father returned, he had no intention of courting death.
Guo frowned in displeasure. "I told you—he's a friend of ours. He wouldn't be angry. In fact, we're the ones sponsoring this abode for him."
Hai still shook his head. Just as he was about to reject them once more, the room door behind him opened—and Spark's voice drifted from within.
"Let them in. They are friends."