Ethan guessed to himself that the "place" this woman was talking about… must be inside her own head.
As she approached, her seductive aura grew even stronger, her psychic energy pushed to its absolute limit. But to her surprise, Ethan remained completely unaffected. His eyes stayed as clear and calm as a still lake.
"What's going on? Seriously, not even a little reaction?" she muttered, her tone laced with frustration.
But before she could process it further, Ethan's Domain of the Dead unfolded in an instant, spreading rapidly and engulfing her. A crushing pressure descended like a tidal wave.
The woman froze, her body stiffening as her eyes widened in shock. The flirtatious smirk she wore just monts ago twisted into sheer terror.
"You…" she stamred.
"What's wrong? Weren't you having fun just now?" Ethan's voice was calm, almost indifferent, as he raised his dagger and drove it straight toward her head.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks as realization dawned.
This guy… isn't human!
She imdiately tried to fight back with her psychic energy, but Ethan's Domain of the Dead was far too overwhelming. Before she could even release her power, it was forced back into her skull, compressed like a bullet misfiring in the chamber. Read new adventures at empire
The sensation was excruciating.
"Ahhh—!"
A piercing scream tore from her throat as her brain felt like it was being stabbed with needles. But the scream didn't last long.
Ethan's dagger flicked inside her skull, and with a swift motion, he extracted sothing that looked like a fresh, glistening cherry. Her lifeless body collapsed, and with a practiced efficiency, Ethan stored it away.
...
The woman's scream was sharp and carried far, loud enough to reach the ears of two Black Hand Legion mbers patrolling outside.
But instead of rushing to investigate, the two n just chuckled, exchanging knowing looks.
"Damn, sounds like she's really going wild this ti," one of them said with a smirk.
"Yeah, she's probably having the ti of her life," the other replied, grinning.
"Wonder whose dick she's chopping off this ti."
"Hah! You know she doesn't just cut them off—she keeps them as trophies."
The two burst into laughter, their crude banter echoing as they strolled past the door. They didn't notice when, monts later, Ethan slipped out of the room like a ghost, silent and unseen.
...
Ethan could sense the presence of Black Hand Legion mbers in the rooms on either side of the hallway.
In the room to the right was a small-ti leader of the group, a man nad Bruno Morgan. His nickna was "Bear," and it fit him perfectly—he was massive, hairy, and brutish, like a grizzly.
Inside, Bruno was surrounded by four female survivors. He was sucking on the breasts of two won at once, his hands groping another woman's clitoris, while his thick, oversized dick was pounding into the last woman, who was bent over in front of him.
"Ahh~ Bruno, I knew it! I knew I was your favorite!" the woman he was thrusting into moaned, her face flushed with pleasure.
"Bullshit! Bruno loves the most! He makes feel so good!" another woman snapped, glaring at her.
The remaining two won weren't having it either. They pressed their nipples against Bruno's face, shaking them aggressively. "You're all just jealous! Bruno liked us first!"
The four won began bickering, their voices rising as they fought for his attention. But their jealousy wasn't born out of love—Bruno had abused and tornted them so much that they'd developed Stockholm syndro, their twisted affection a result of his cruelty.
"HAHAHAHA!" Bruno roared with laughter, thoroughly enjoying the chaos. Watching the won fight over him filled him with a sick sense of satisfaction.
Not long ago, the Black Hand Legion had been nothing more than a band of outlaws, hunted like rats and forced to operate in the shadows of the dark web. But now, things had changed. They were living like kings in the apocalypse, indulging in every depraved fantasy.
For Bruno, the end of the world wasn't hell—it was paradise.
...
Ethan didn't choose to attack Bruno right away. Instead, he turned and slipped into the room on the left.
The mont he entered, the heavy stench of alcohol hit him like a wall. The room reeked of booze, and the sound of loud, thunderous snoring filled the air.
Empty bottles were scattered all over the floor, and on the bed lay a large, overweight man, passed out cold.
His snores were so loud they could've been mistaken for a chainsaw, and every exhale reeked of alcohol. He was completely out of it, sprawled across the bed like a bloated corpse.
"A drunk," Ethan muttered to himself, wrinkling his nose. The man was so soaked in alcohol that Ethan couldn't help but think of him as marinated at—like bourbon-soaked ribs or whiskey-glazed steak, the kind you'd savor at a backyard barbecue.
Ethan smirked at the thought. "At least he's done half the work for . Prepping himself like this? That's the kind of initiative I can appreciate."
Ethan stepped forward without hesitation, effortlessly extracting the crystal core from the drunkard's body. With a flick of his hand, the corpse vanished into his spatial storage ring.
In this small outpost of the Black Hand Legion, so were addicted to alcohol, while others were consud by lust.
Ethan continued walking.
The room next door was where the survivors were being held. From there, he could sense the faint presence of dozens of living people.
As he entered, a foul stench of urine and feces assaulted his nose. The room was a small, dimly lit warehouse, packed with dozens of humans. Their faces were pale and gaunt, their eyes hollow. So leaned weakly against the walls, while others lay sprawled on the ground.
The oppressive atmosphere of the sealed space was suffocating, filled with a deathly silence.
But soon, a few of the captives noticed Ethan's presence. Their first reaction was to shrink back instinctively, too terrified to approach him.
They saw his clean, unblemished clothes and imdiately assud he was part of the Black Hand Legion.
"P-please… don't kill ! Let go, I'm begging you!"
"I'll do anything you want, just let out of here!"
"Please… just a bite of food. I'm starving to death!"
"I'll join you! I'll be cannon fodder if I have to. Long live the Black Hand Legion!"
"…"
A few of them dropped to their knees—n and won alike—bowing repeatedly, their minds on the verge of collapse.
Ethan stared at them coldly for a mont before suddenly nodding.
"Alright."
"Huh?"
The group froze, exchanging bewildered glances. They couldn't believe what they'd just heard. Did he… really agree?
Ethan waved his hand, and a bag of sausages appeared. There were ten in total.
"Th-this…"
Dozens of pairs of eyes locked onto the bag, their mouths watering uncontrollably. The overwhelming hunger gnawed at their sanity, pushing them to the brink of losing control.
Although the underground mall had supplies, the Black Hand Legion never shared any with the captives. These people had been starved to their limits, surviving purely on willpower. A mont of weakness, and they'd collapse.
Now, seeing the sausages, their eyes lit up with a ravenous green glow.
But before anyone could move, Ethan flipped his hand again, revealing a sharp knife in his palm. Without a word, he tossed both the bag of sausages and the knife onto the ground.
Ethan was curious. In such a desperate situation, would starving people choose the knife or the sausages?
It was a question of human nature.
At first, no one even noticed the knife. Like wild dogs, they lunged at the sausages.
Three or five of them, their faces twisted with desperation, tore open the packaging and stuffed the sausages into their mouths. Even as they ate, their hands kept grabbing for more, fighting off anyone who got too close.
"Get your hands off , you bastard!"
"Please, don't take it! Just give one!"
"Back off! It's mine!"
"…"
The warehouse descended into chaos. Cries, curses, and screams filled the air as dozens of people pushed and shoved, clawing their way toward the food.
Ethan crossed his arms and watched, a faint sense of detachnt in his gaze. For a mont, he thought there wasn't much difference between humans and zombies.
One woman managed to grab a sausage and shove it into her mouth, only to have a man rip it away from her. He kicked her hard, sending her sprawling to the edge of the crowd.
So even dropped to the ground, licking up the crumbs and scraps of sausage that had fallen.
There were over fifty survivors in the warehouse, but only ten sausages. It was nowhere near enough.
As the last of the sausages were being devoured by a few individuals, those on the outskirts grew increasingly desperate, yet they could do nothing.
That's when a woman, standing on the edge of the chaos, turned her head and noticed sothing lying quietly on the ground not far away—a sharp knife.
She froze for a mont, her breathing growing heavier. The cold glint of the blade reflected in her eyes, which suddenly burned with a crimson light.
"Die! All of you!"
…
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