Ross took another step.
And another.
Each footfall made the hunters retreat a half-step without realizing it.
Ross’s eyes glead with a disturbing calm—like soone who had already decided what everyone’s fate would be.
The hallway felt smaller suddenly, as if the walls were closing in around the intruders.
"Co," Ross said softly. "Let’s dance."
His voice held no excitent—only a quiet, chilling anticipation.
"It’s been... far too long since I felt blood warm on my hands."
The leader’s heart skipped.
The telekinetic’s jaw clenched.
The big man instinctively raised his fists.
And Ross kept walking, unhurried, unstoppable, stepping toward the six n who realized—far too late—that they hadn’t cornered prey.
Prey didn’t smile like that.
Predators did.
"Well, if you want to die that badly, then be my guest! I’ll help you get to hell myself!"
The telekinetic’s voice cracked with rage as he thrust both hands forward, veins bulging on his temples.
Pffft!
The wooden arrow shot like a bullet, slicing through the air fast enough to whistle.
It struck Ross dead center on the forehead—so perfectly aid that the other hunters didn’t even bother to blink.
They had seen that attack pierce sheet tal and shattered bone clean through.
But this ti...
Thud.
The arrow simply stopped.
Like it had hit a slab of solid iron.
Ross didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t even sway.
The projectile clattered onto the wooden floor with a harmless tap.
The hallway went silent.
"This... this is impossible..." the telekinetic whispered.
His face twisted in disbelief as he stumbled back, eyes wide as saucers.
"That’s my strongest shot... it should have blown your head open...!"
Ross rubbed the spot on his forehead as casually as soone wiping away a raindrop.
"No bleeding... no crack... not even a scratch," he murmured, amused. Then he looked up with a wide, toothy smile.
"Well, it did tickle. I’ll give you that."
His smile grew darker.
"Why don’t I give you a taste of your own dicine?"
He flicked his fingers.
Snap.
Whoooosh!
The wooden floor beneath the telekinetic buckled violently.
A jagged stake erupted upward as if launched by an underground explosion.
The man barely had ti to widen his eyes.
SCHLK!
The stake impaled him from below—ramming straight up to his ass first then through his pelvis, shredding his insides, piercing organs, spine, throat—then exploding out his mouth in a shower of blood and shattered teeth.
His scream died instantly, trapped behind the blood filling his lungs.
The stake didn’t stop.
It carried him upward, lifting him clean off the ground, suspending him like a butchered animal on display.
His legs twitched. His fingers curled. A wet gargle escaped what remained of his throat.
Blood poured down the stake, dripping rhythmically onto the floorboards.
Tap...
Tap...
Tap...
The hunters stared in horror.
The sll of iron filled the hallway.
The telekinetic’s lifeless body hung there, mouth stretched unnaturally wide around the stake, eyes frozen in a mix of disbelief and terror.
Ross tilted his head.
"Well... that looks uncomfortable," he said lightly, as if critiquing a painting.
He stepped forward, brushing past the corpse like it was nothing more than furniture in his way.
The blood soaking into the wood didn’t faze him.
The shocked expressions of the remaining five hunters didn’t faze him.
He simply walked—slow, calm, deliberate.
"Now then..." Ross said softly, wiping a fleck of blood off his cheek.
"Who wants to go next?"
The remaining hunters finally realized:
They hadn’t cornered a man.
They had awakened a monster.
"FUCK YOU!"
The big man erupted like a volcano, spittle flying from his lips as rage twisted his features.
His massive fra tensed, muscles bulging like coiled steel cables beneath his skin.
He charged forward, shaking the entire hallway with his steps.
Every stomp sounded like a hamr smashing through the floor.
Every breath was a growl.
Every intention scread murder.
He pulled his arm back, gathering every ounce of strength in his monstrous body.
His knuckles whitened. His veins throbbled. He wanted Ross’s head—wanted to crush it in a single devastating blow.
He swung.
B A N G !
His fist slamd into the side of Ross’s skull with a thunderous crack.
And Ross didn’t move.
Not an inch.
Not a wobble.
Not a twitch.
Instead—
The big man staggered back, his eyes widening in pure disbelief.
His entire arm vibrated violently, the shockwave of the impact traveling all the way up to his shoulder.
The pain hit a heartbeat later—white-hot, sharp, agonizing.
"What... what the hell are you...?" he gasped, clutching his wrist as the bones inside scread.
His fist felt like it had struck solid molten iron—sothing impossibly hard, impossibly hot, sothing that rejected all force.
He had smashed through concrete with those fists.
He had folded car hoods like paper.
He had caved in skulls with a single swipe.
But this—
Ross’s head—
felt like punching a demon’s throne.
Ross slowly tilted his head back toward him, calm and eerily patient.
There was no anger in his eyes.
No excitent.
Just... curiosity.
"My turn," Ross said softly, almost gently.
The big man’s instincts scread. He tried to step back. Tried to raise his guard. Tried to do anything.
Too late.
Ross stepped forward, barely shifting his weight, and threw a single punch.
PUCHI!
The sound wasn’t just loud—
It was wet.
Heavy.
Final.
Ross’s fist connected with the man’s skull, and the result was grotesque.
The head didn’t simply split open—it detonated. Bone fragnts shot out like shrapnel.
A geyser of blood blasted upward, splattering the ceiling, painting the walls, raining down onto the remaining hunters.
The man’s jaw flew one direction.
An eye another.
Brain matter slid down the hallway in thick ropes of red and white.
For a single surreal second, the giant’s headless body remained standing—legs shaking, arms trembling as though the body refused to accept death.
Then—
THUD!
The corpse collapsed like a felled tree, blood pumping from the ragged stump of his neck in thick spurts.
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