A Heavy, Chilling Sensation

Ah, that heavy and chilling sensation. Seeing the little kid getting dragged away, I quietly followed those bastards into the back alley. They slipped through the rear door of some rundown building. With a sentry posted at the back entrance, it was clear this was the kidnappers' main hideout.

Charging in and smashing everything to pieces was always an option, but... killing the guy with magic or overpowering him directly would obviously cause a commotion. That left only one choice.

I kicked over a half-broken orc barrel beside me. The sound wouldn't reach inside the building, but it was loud enough for the sentry to hear. As expected, the bastard came to investigate the source.

"Peekaboo, you son of a bitch."

If this were a Western movie, I would have gone with Surprise, motherfucker!

I clamped my left hand over his mouth. I could have strangled him with my right hand or snapped his neck, but that would take too long and carried the risk of him making noise. Since I wasn't the type who enjoyed gambling, I chose the fastest and most reliable method.

I focused power into my right thumb, contracted the muscles, and drove it straight through his throat. He thrashed violently at first, but after I kept stabbing, he eventually fell silent and collapsed on his own.

"In your next life, don't take jobs like this."

Inside the building, the children were nowhere to be seen—only an empty warehouse. I didn't care for this kind of development... There was no second floor, which obviously meant there had to be a basement. Magic existed for moments exactly like this.

"Spirit of water, flow toward the path I seek."

I flicked the moisture gathered at my fingertips, and the droplets began streaming in a single direction. Following them led me to a rotten wooden crate. Lifting it revealed that the entire floor came up with it. A cheap trick.

Beneath the lifted floor were moss-covered gray stairs. I descended them. What greeted me was a sewer. The stench stabbing my nose assaulted my senses, but what surprised me more were the lanterns hanging along the walls. They weren't the kind that lasted long, which meant someone was maintaining them regularly... Fuck. These bastards had clearly settled in here quite a while ago. That meant the number of children they'd kidnapped over time was considerable too.

The old memories that kept surfacing made my mood even filthier.

Then the group that had just dragged the kids away came walking toward me. Had they finished their business and were coming back for more? They must have spotted me, because they drew their weapons without a word. I was genuinely curious what the hell was inside their skulls, trying to swing long swords and axes in such a cramped space. Unless their brains were stuffed with udon noodles, there was no way they'd entertain such idiotic ideas. In a narrow passage like this, short weapons like knives were the smart choice. Using long ones was basically suicide.

And I decided to grant their wish.

"Thunder, crawl like a snake."

Of course, I only fulfilled that suicide wish for three of them. The last one watched his companions turn into nicely browned lightning-grilled meat and lost all will to fight. I walked straight up to him and stomped the ground—the same tremor foot technique I'd used when that pickpocket kid was snatched. The interior must have been unstable, because the floor shook violently. I decided it was better not to use any wide-range magic here.

"Hey, you fucking bastard."

"Hieeeeee..."

The guy making incoherent noises had pissed his pants. Looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like he'd never even been properly potty-trained.

"Where are the kidnapped kids?"

"I-I don't know! Even if I did, I couldn't tell you!"

"What, some kind of loyalty? Not bad."

Guys like this popped up occasionally. Idiots who didn't understand their position and acted out anyway. Of course, I knew exactly how to handle idiots like him.

"Hey. Strip."

"Huh?"

"If you don't want to die, take off your top."

It wasn't like I had any interest in male bodies. If a man ever tried seducing me while naked, I'd rip his guts out and kill him. The guy hesitated in terror, so taking pity on his pathetic state, I tore his shirt open myself with my knife. He started crying, thinking I was about to rape him. Even if I had been into men, I wouldn't have felt anything for a bandit-looking piece of shit like him.

I sliced into the skin of his back. Not deep—just thin enough to peel, carving three sides of a square and leaving one side attached. Then I grabbed the dangling flap of skin and yanked hard.

"GYAAAAAH!"

Lifting it like this was the torture known ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as "shirt removal"—the same thing Middle Eastern terrorists endured when captured.

"Shut up and guide me. Make noise or refuse to lead, and I'll rip this clean off. Understand?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll guide you! Just please spare my life!"

Personally, I despised trash like this the most. At least the ones who endured torture to the end without breaking earned the mercy of closed eyes. But this piece of shit folded after the first taste of pain.

I followed him deeper into the sewer. After walking through the maze-like tunnels, a massive door appeared—one that had no business being in a sewer. Perhaps it had been built as an emergency shelter. Given the complicated layout and the existence of such a room, that seemed likely.

I opened the door. The metallic stench of blood hit me immediately. The scene inside was too horrific to put into words. Children were crying inside narrow iron cages barely fit for dogs. The ones who resisted were dragged into a corner and beaten without mercy.

"You fucking animals..."

Then I saw the face of one of the beaten children. It was that pickpocket kid. The boy who was being pummeled soon went limp.

Memories of that "facility" from the past—the one I never wanted to remember—flooded back. The bastards beating the children must have thought I was with the guy I'd brought, because they barely paid me any attention. The one I'd dragged along spoke cautiously.

"Um... I brought him, so can I..."

I fried the bastard with magic. Damn it... The moment I burned him, the two who had been beating the kid finally realized I was the attacker and rushed me. A thick iron club flew toward my head. Using magic here risked them dodging and hitting the children, so I didn't. Instead, my fingertips simply tore through both their necks.

That unpleasant, filthy sensation I felt every single time—the sticky, warm touch of blood. Then the temperature of it splashing across my face as I pulled my hand free. No matter how many times I experienced it, the feeling was fucking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠awful.

They died instantly. I ran to the kid who had been beaten to death. Just as I feared, it was too late. He had already stopped breathing.

"Ah, fuck... Fuck..."

It became hard to breathe. The child's corpse right in front of me. This was exactly why I never accepted requests to kill children back when I was active. Seeing it once was enough to ruin my mood. And if it was a face I had even the slightest connection to, it was ten times worse.

My body grew hot. My heart began pounding. Something I had barely suppressed was about to burst free. But at that exact moment, I heard my friend's voice.

Ah... that's right. I definitely made that promise, but I'd completely forgotten. I had to become a bright, cheerful, lively person. I needed to bury my original self and become someone like him. Not an idiot who frowned and spat out negative words.

Confucianism, Jesus, Buddha, Confucius, games, anime, The Sorrows of Young Werther, Shakespeare, Bruce Lee, The Merchant of Venice, Shylock, Hitler, neo-Nazis, the Allies, web novels, shrimp burgers, gallery armbands, Geum Tae-yang, NTR, internet broadcasts, King Sejong, Judas Iscariot, the Three Great Sages, Yi Sun-sin, Churchill, Joan of Arc, incompetent mutt, grim reaper beast, Charles Darwin, The Bird That Drinks Tears, Iron Man, England, the plains of Manchuria...

I recalled and stuffed back in every single word that child had playfully thrown out. Using them all, I suppressed my original self. The feeling became a little more refreshing.

I gently closed the poor pickpocket kid's eyes.

I returned the knife to the child. Returning borrowed items was common sense for a Confucian.

"I'll kill every last one of the bad bastards who got you killed. Big brother will handle it."

I normally refused free requests, but this time was different. Just as senior Muteba Gizenga had done, there were occasions when even I took a request for free.

I spoke to the children trapped in the cages.

"Wait just a little longer. I'll come back to save you."