In the end, after a burst of searing pain, they lost consciousness completely.
Their bodies were sent flying like cannonballs, crashing backward along with several gunn behind them and smashing straight into the mansion's living room.
Boom!
Several ard n slamd violently into the walls, embedding themselves deep into them as dust and shockwaves swept through the entire room.
Kleiner, who had been sitting calmly on the sofa in the living room, had no idea what had happened.
He instinctively glanced toward the far end of the room where the dust was spreading, then turned his head toward the entrance.
The mont he looked, his pupils widened.
He saw the most unbelievable scene of his life.
A young man wearing a dark green Air Force jacket and jeans, with a bullet casing necklace hanging around his neck, was casually walking in from outside.
The mont the private rcenary team captain saw him, he instinctively roared—
"Open fire!!"
He pulled the trigger first, and the rest of the gunn followed imdiately.
In an instant, muzzle flashes erupted as dense bullets poured forward like a storm of rain.
But when those bullets struck the young man, they simply passed straight through him, as though hitting empty air.
Wherever the bullets passed through, golden light shimred.
The sight was horrifying.
Not just Kleiner—even the gunn still firing widened their eyes in shock, their faces full of disbelief.
"How is this possible?!"
Kleiner shot to his feet from the sofa, all composure gone, his face filled with utter disbelief.
Over the years, he had seen every kind of situation imaginable.
But tonight, Matthew's appearance had completely overturned everything he thought he understood.
Soone who could ignore bullets?
And that person was a boy he had practically watched grow up.
"Kleiner…"
A sharp, icy light burst from Matthew's eyes as his gaze locked onto Kleiner across the room.
Ignoring the bullets passing through his body, he slowly raised his right hand.
In his palm, a cluster of golden light blood, dazzling brilliance containing unimaginable energy.
The next mont, under everyone's tense gaze, that sphere of energy split into dozens of beams of light, shooting outward in every direction like a dense storm.
They were too fast.
No one present had ti to react.
Like the fingers of death itself, those tiny beams of light pierced through the foreheads of every gunman in the room—
everyone except Kleiner.
Every single one of them wore expressions of disbelief and despair before their bodies lost all strength and collapsed heavily to the ground.
From the tiny bloodless holes in their foreheads, wisps of smoke rose into the air.
Not even blood flowed out, proof of the terrifying heat carried by those beams.
Seeing this scene, Kleiner felt a freezing chill run through him, as though an icy wind had swept through his bones.
He collapsed back onto the sofa, fear filling his eyes as cold sweat poured down his forehead.
The expensive wine glass he had been holding slipped unconsciously from his hand, falling onto the red carpet and soaking part of it with spilled liquor.
But Kleiner had no ti to care about that.
Terror had already drowned all rational thought.
Only one word remained in his mind.
Monster.
All the calm dignity of a wealthy tycoon and criminal kingpin had vanished.
He was panicked now—truly panicked.
Because he recognized Matthew.
He had even attended Daniel's funeral.
Aside from a few people who knew the truth, no one else in town had any idea what kind of sins Kleiner had hidden in the shadows.
That was because he had always disguised himself perfectly.
To the public, he was charitable, generous, and a benefactor who had brought many improvents to the town.
Of course, whether he was using it all for tax avoidance was sothing the townspeople didn't care about.
What they saw was that Kleiner had changed Magrave's forr poverty.
No matter how one looked at it, he had succeeded.
He had built his own criminal empire in Magrave.
This was his kingdom, his territory—
and he was its king.
When it ca to hypocrisy, Kleiner had always played the role perfectly.
Daniel, a police chief who had spent more than ten years in the town and carried considerable influence, had died—and Kleiner had made a point of attending the funeral.
He had even personally comforted the grief-stricken Matthew.
At the ti, all he had felt was amusent and contempt.
If not for the pressure from the police departnt, he would have kidnapped the brat long ago and tortured the information he wanted out of him.
What Kleiner had never imagined was that this boy, whom he had never once taken seriously, would now so easily slaughter dozens of his ard guards.
Fear, confusion, disbelief, and despair crashed over him like a flood, drowning his mind and stripping away all reason.
The wealthier a person was, the more they often feared death.
Because they did not lack money—
they lacked ti and health to enjoy it.
They longed to spend that ti indulging in the luxurious life their wealth had bought: mansions, won, power, fine wine, luxury goods, expensive cars, and the intoxicating pleasure of controlling life and death.
But before death, all living beings were equal.
Whether rich or poor, once death ca, everything vanished into nothing.
And at this mont—
that truth stood before him.
Kleiner's entire body trembled. Terror had stripped away every last trace of dignity, leaving him exposed in all his ugliness.
"M-Matthew…"
The dark green Air Force jacket ca steadily closer.
Walking through the corpses scattered across the floor, he looked like a dark green reaper approaching.
Each step sounded like a funeral bell tolling for Kleiner.
The fear was so overwhelming that he could barely speak. Cold sweat had already soaked through his back.
He forced himself to endure the terror and tried to smile, never realizing how hideous that smile looked now.
Standing before him, watching this pathetic performance, Matthew felt only ridicule.
The man who had once worn the mask of a benevolent tycoon, the savior of Magrave, the owner of unimaginable wealth that countless people dread of—
even he trembled.
Even he was afraid.
Whoosh—!
Ignoring his pleas for rcy, Matthew raised a finger.
A golden cross-shaped light blood at the tip, and a beam shot forward, piercing straight through Kleiner's knee.
"AAAHHH!!!"
A miserable scream tore through the room.
Kleiner clutched his shattered knee, the intense pain twisting his face beyond recognition as sweat poured from his body.
"Damn it! Fuck! My leg—my leg!"
The agony was so overwhelming he nearly fainted, curses spilling from his mouth uncontrollably.
But to Matthew, that little pain was nothing compared to the grief of losing the adoptive father who had been no different from a real parent.
Buzz—!
The golden cross-shaped light blood again at his fingertip, even brighter than before.
The sight terrified Kleiner so much that even his screaming stopped.
He let go of his knee and frantically waved both hands, his face full of desperate pleading.
"Matthew, spare ! I have money—I have a lot of money!"
"There's three million dollars in cash in my safe alone! Thirty million more in my accounts, plus excellent assets and real estate—I can give it all to you! With that money, you'll be a billionaire. You can enjoy a life of luxury beyond imagination. Matthew, just let go!"
"You should never have extinguished the only light in a child's heart, Kleiner."
Matthew's quiet voice was like an icy wind sweeping through the room.
Behind the golden light blooming at his fingertip, his eyes held nothing but cold indifference and absolute rcilessness.
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