Cross stood frozen, staring at the mountain of corpses piled before him. The stench of fresh blood filled the air, heavy and metallic, thick enough to make anyone gag. Crimson rivers streamed endlessly from the stumps of their necks, dripping in steady trails down onto the floor, spreading into a grotesque pool. Their heads had already fallen, bouncing and rolling across the ground with dull, sickening thuds after being flung through the air. The sound of flesh hitting stone still echoed faintly in the room, almost like a drumbeat of death that refused to fade.
His eyes finally shifted to me, and the moment he locked onto me, I saw the terror in his face. His body betrayed him instantly—knees trembling, lips quivering, and his eyes wide with disbelief.
