Shock flickered across the fat man's face, but he forced a smile.
"Boy," he said, his voice trembling despite the grin, "you'd better put your weapons down. One call from me and every guard in this house will kill you before you even think of running."
"They won't come," I replied. "I killed everyone in the house."
Rage and disbelief twisted his face.
"That's impossible. You're lying."
I smiled.
"My three pregnant wives… what did you do?!" He screamed.
"They were pregnant? Wow. That means they had early abortions," I said flatly.
Fueled by panic, he shoved the two women toward me and reached for a gun.
The pistol exploded in his hand.
Both women collapsed at the same time.
I holstered my gun and pointed my sword at him.
"Kneel. We need to talk."
Then, without turning, I added,
"And Sergeant...don't steal weapons from dead men."
He froze, his hand hovering near a fallen gun. Slowly, shaking, he dropped to his knees beside the fat man.
The Butcher still refused to kneel.
"You won't get away with this," he spat. "Hundreds of my men will be here as soon as they hear the gunshots. If you value your life—"
I slapped him once before he could continue speaking his nonsense.
He hit the floor unconscious. Teeth scattered across the carpet.
"Finally," I said, sitting on the sofa. "The pig stopped talking."
When he came to, pain etched across his face. He knelt beside the Sergeant with newly found fear. Both of them trembled. Down below, several people were knocking on the door, asking if everything was all right inside, but nobody answered.
"I don't have any personal grudge against either of you," I said calmly. "I don't care what you do. I don't care who you hurt."
I leaned forward.
"But it becomes my problem when you take… what I love."
I swung my blade and severed the Sergeant's fingers.
He screamed.
"Shhh," I said, pressing a finger to my lips.
He choked the sound back. The fat man, who was struggling to kneel, collapsed. His eyes landed on me, then he pissed himself. He quickly put his head down and knelt with difficulty.
"Now," I said, tapping the blade lightly against their heads, "tell me where Clementine is. Whoever answers first keeps their head intact."
They stared at the floor, paralyzed.
I stomped on the fat man's hand. The sound of broken bones echoed into the room. As he started to scream, he froze, realizing my sword was resting against his shoulder.
"Answer."
The Sergeant broke first.
"I... I'll talk! We lost her—"
Blood sprayed across his face.
He looked up and saw the Butcher's body split clean in half.
"Don't mind him," I said. "Continue."
The Sergeant wet himself again as the smell filled the room.
"I said continue."
Tears streamed down his face.
"Please… I'll do anything… please forgive me."
He grabbed my feet desperately, begging for forgiveness as tears soaked them.
I kicked him across the room. He slammed into the wall, coughing blood, and struggling to breathe.
"That wasn't the answer," I said, advancing. "Continue."
He crawled backward into the corner, raising his arms weakly.
"Please… stop. I'll talk."
"Then talk."
"Our men succeeded in kidnapping her," he sobbed. "But on the way, she caused an accident and killed five of our men. She ran into the forest. They chased after her, but before they could catch her, she jumped into the river. All our men searched for her… but they never found her. That is all I know. Please, let me go."
I crushed his chest with one strike. His ribs shattered and his lungs collapsed.
He tried to scream, but nothing came out.
I punched him repeatedly.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!! Fuck!!!…"
Even after his head burst apart, even after the wall behind him caved in, I kept punching him. I didn't even know how long it lasted as I screamed and tore him apart with my bare hands.
I only stopped when there was nothing left to rip apart. The door below exploded inward, and several people rushed inside.
I sank into the chair like a corpse that forgot how to fall, staring at my blood-soaked hands as they trembled in my lap.
My heart thundered inside my ribs, a war drum calling armies that no longer cared about who they trampled.
The world smeared and swam as tears spilled from my eyes, thick and red, striking the floor one by one as if laughing at me.
"Clementine… my love," I whispered to the silence, my voice breaking. "Please be alive… and don't be afraid to sleep alone. I know it is my fault. I'm sorry… but please don't disappear. Just wait for me."
I clenched my fists, nails biting into flesh that no longer felt like mine.
"Your Max will find you."
Even if I must build a mountain of bodies to do it.
I grabbed my rifle as several men rushed toward the stairwell. As I stepped out of the room, I saw that only a few of them carried firearms; most held crude melee weapons. The moment they noticed the rifle aimed at them, fear flashed in their eyes.
I opened fire on the stairwell. Bodies collapsed in heaps as blood sprayed across the walls. When the others saw the massacre, panic erupted. People fled the farmhouse, screaming for backup.
With my sword in hand, I cut down anyone too slow to escape. Stepping outside, I saw guards charging toward the farmhouse as the entire camp descended into chaos. People ran in every direction.
I raised my rifle again and shot down anyone holding a firearm. Dozens fell one after another, their heads torn apart by bullets. As for those without guns, my sword was enough. I cut them down relentlessly.
Seeing the carnage, the remaining guards broke and fled in pure terror. Some tried to escape the camp; others hid inside houses. It was useless. I was faster than all of them. There was no place to hide from me, I could see everyone, even those cowering in toilets.
Limbs scattered across the road as I hunted down everyone except the slaves. When the last guard fell, I turned my sword against the other members. I didn't care who they were or what their jobs were. Every member of the Collectors had to die.
I lost count of how many I killed. When my rifle finally clicked empty, hundreds of bodies littered the ground, many torn apart. People begged and cried, but I felt nothing. Young or old, it made no difference. All of them met the same end beneath my blade.
By the time it was over, the entire camp was painted red with blood. The snow gleamed crimson under the light, and a heavy silence hung over the camp, which lay buried beneath corpses and severed limbs. I had left no one behind.
My body was exhausted, both mentally and physically. I tore off my jacket and shirt, stiff and soaked with blood. Only then did I notice three bullets lodged in my body and a deep cut carved into my left arm. I didn't care about the pain.
I walked to the center of the camp and sat atop a mound of bodies, my sword resting across my lap. Blood flowed like a river beneath my feet. I lowered my head and closed my heavy eyes, trying to calm my restless heart.
But the only thing I could think of was Clementine. Even after killing everyone, my heart found no peace. My greatest fear was being alone, and today, I truly felt it.
I raised my head when I heard the noise. Hundreds of slaves from all directions gathered around me. At the front stood Father Basil.
"I heard the stories about God and the angels who serve Him," he said. "He sent them against the wicked, turning them into dust. I dreamed that God would send an angel to show us the light… one who would comfort us in our despair."
The priest looked out at the hundreds of eyes fixed upon him.
"I am no angel of light," I continued. "All of you… leave now, before I kill you all."
He did not budge as he stared straight into my eyes.
"I prayed for God to send us an angel," he said again, "one who would comfort us and shine light into the darkness."
He pointed directly at me. Every gaze followed his finger.
"This world does not need an angel of light. It does not need comfort. It needs His angels of death… those who bring vengeance upon this world and turn the wicked to dust."
He screamed the final words as he dropped to his knees in the blood-stained snow.
"THE ANGEL OF DEATH IS HERE!"
One by one, the slaves knelt around me. Soon, all of them were on their knees, praying. I was shocked by the sight.
"My Lord," they said, "let us serve you. You freed us from the chains of slavery. Our lives are yours now. Please… let us serve you."
I was about to dismiss all of this, but I stopped.
"All right," I said. "Here is my first order."
I raised my voice so everyone could hear.
"Find Clementine."
In that moment, I realized something: I could not protect what I loved alone. I needed everyone.