Above the city, a magical projection stretched across the sky like a vast screen, streaming the purge to all.
It was a spell Zeroy had asked Patchouli to create—showing everything around her so the entire city could see.
A livestream. A livestreamed massacre.
"No... impossible!"
A crime boss collapsed in his leather chair.
Watching his casino drenched in blood on the projection, the cigar slipped from his fingers. On his monitors, his once-cruel underlings became headless corpses.
The same man who once tossed beggars to Gastrea for fun now wet himself in terror.
Before today, he never imagined he'd share the fate of those he despised.
"Please! Take all my money! I know secrets—"
A blade flashed. His head, still frozen in fear, tumbled to the carpet. Blood stained the leather chair, mixing with expensive wine.
In a mansion, a noblewoman who once abused Cursed Children for amusement clawed at a locked door.
Her manicured nails snapped, bleeding, but she didn't notice. The corpses of her guards littered the floor.
She was next.
"They forced me! They said those brats deserved it—"
Her screams smeared her makeup before she froze forever.
In the council hall, a politician pasted on his professional smile. "Let's discuss—"
His head rolled before he finished.
"Wait! We'll apologize publicly! Announce your glory to the world—"
Another head fell.
Words could not halt the blade.
"Are you insane!? You'll make yourself humanity's enemy!" a colleague roared.
"You talk well. Then keep talking."
His limbs were severed. He died slowly in agony.
"..."
"You... how dare you... I'm nobility... a high caste... and you, for those vermin—"
A dying noble sat dazed in blood, surrounded by the limbs of his family.
"Then let's see if noble blood is really higher than commoners'."
In an underground arena, Amir lashed a child forced to fight Gastrea.
However, after the proclamation of the purge, the crowd fell into chaos. His whip stopped midair as he looked around, confused.
Who was speaking? What was happening?
Nothing happened after a while. He raised the whip again, ready to hear screams.
Then came shrieks from the stands. Dozens of heads flew.
So many that they formed a sheet.
"This time, I won't use fire. So you can savor the blood and violence."
Zeroy tilted her head, admiring the vermin's panic.
"Well? Are you happy?"
"..."
In a prison, the warden who electrocuted Cursed Children for sport cowered in his office.
Screams echoed outside. He dared not look, dared not resist, only prayed.
Then the iron door was cut open. He saw the blood-soaked devil.
He collapsed, sobbing. "Please... I was only following orders..."
The spilled glass on his desk reflected his twisted face. Shards cut into old scars on his wrist—scars left by the nails of the girl he had tortured.
"Following orders?"
Zeroy stepped forward, blood dripping from her armor.
"Those without malice, who merely followed orders, I won't purge."
Splatter!
He fell.
"But you were not 'merely' following orders."
Next, a theater in a tycoon's rooftop garden.
The man who once hunted humans like prey now beat his guards with a golf club, desperate for his helicopter.
The rotors spun—abruptly, a grappling hook yanked him down.
"I donated a billion to rebuild schools!"
He crashed to the ground, crying at top speed like those he once killed.
"I'm a philanthropist!"
"A philanthropist?"
Zeroy appeared before him, her blade dripping with his son's blood.
Here, no one was exempt—young or old, man or woman. Guilt meant purge.
Even that boy, not fifteen, radiated malice greater than most.
"Fine. I'll be merciful."
Her blade traced his belly. Intestines spilled.
"Now, pull them out and write your epitaph. Consider it a privilege."
In an underground chamber, walls burst, shrapnel piercing every councilman.
As they crawled, crying, toward the exit, Zeroy's boots blocked their way.
"You're good with pens. So use your pens to stab your eyes. The faster you do, the quicker your death will be."
...
The sky rang with wailing.
Priests who dumped corpses in rivers, monks who defiled girls in temples, hypocrites who tortured Cursed Children—all now trembled under heaven's fire.
They wet their beds. They wept and clawed at jeweled pens to blind themselves, begging for a second more of life.
The slaughter continued until night.
"God..."
In temples, incense thickened, but fear outweighed it. Terrified citizens crammed the halls, sobbing, praying, confessing in despair.
Some clutched idols and cried. Some stuffed diamond necklaces into offering boxes. Some threw money, ordering others to die in their place.
Monks circled the great idol, chanting with shaking voices, trying to use holy mantras against the demon that blanketed the skies.
...
If you want to support, please consider Patreon, and read advanced chapters! Your support keeps this series going!
[Patreon.com/RedZTL]