Chapter 46: The Slaughter Begins
Chapter 46: The Slaughter Begins
Moon and Kai were knocked out instantly.
The punch had landed before their minds could even register the danger. There was no time to react. No time to move.
Just… darkness.
---
Some time later—how much, they couldn't tell—their eyes fluttered open.
Their vision was hazy, thoughts sluggish like heavy mud. Both of them groaned faintly as the world around them came into focus. Their bodies were upright, but unmoving. Bound.
They glanced down and saw strange mechanical ropes strapped around their torsos and limbs, connecting them to a cold, metallic pillar. Their bodies twitched weakly in resistance, but it was useless.
A voice echoed from the front.
> "Surprised?"
Sitting just a few meters away, lounging like a king, was Ruok.
Not on a real throne—no, it was a makeshift one. A collection of mismatched chairs, broken wood, and scavenged metal parts crudely hammered together. Yet somehow, with the way he leaned back—legs crossed, one arm draped lazily over the side—it felt like a throne. The air around him demanded attention.
His crimson-red hair fell carelessly over one eye, shining faintly under the flickering ceiling light. The room smelled faintly of blood, rust, and something chemical—like burnt wires.
A sharp grin curved on his lips, sharp enough to cut.
In his right hand, he toyed with a slender dagger—spinning it between his fingers like it was nothing more than a pen. The blade glinted ominously, catching flashes of light with each rotation.
His voice broke the silence, soaked in mockery.
> "Oh no…"
"How could this happen?" he said in a fake gasp. "We had a full-proof plan!"
He raised both hands dramatically, feigning confusion. His expression exaggerated—like a bad actor in a play.
> "How did he find us? How—?"
Then he stopped.
A pause.
His smile didn't fade—but it changed. Became quieter. More dangerous.
Slowly, he ran a hand through his blood-red hair, pushing it back from his face. As his fingers slid down, the tip of his tongue grazed the edge of his lips—just for a second, as if savoring the tension.
His eyes gleamed with something wrong. Not just curiosity, not just amusement—something twisted. Like a child pulling the wings off an insect.
He leaned forward.
And his voice dropped, low and smooth.
> "I'll answer your questions…"
He paused again, head tilting slightly to the side, gaze boring into theirs.
> "But first, you tell me something."
The playful tone was gone. What remained was hunger. Not for food. Not even for revenge.
But for answers.
> "How the hell," he whispered, "are you still alive?"
His pupils dilated slightly as he said it, like the very question aroused something inside him. His grip on the dagger tightened—not to stab, but to control his shaking fingers.
There was greed in that gaze.
Not the kind that wants gold or power.
The kind that wants to possess the truth. To break it down. To consume it.
He leaned in further, elbows now on his knees, the grin growing wider—almost unnatural. Like his face wasn't built to hold that much expression.
He waited.
Breathing slow.
Focused.
A predator, not rushing the kill—but savoring the moment the prey realizes it's caught.
Moon and Kai stared blankly, their minds still foggy.
> "I fed your bodies to my Echo," Ruok continued, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I watched it happen. There was nothing left. And yet here you are…"
His tone dripped with greed and curiosity. Like a scientist discovering something forbidden.
Kai finally spoke, voice calm but sharp.
> "No. You answer our question first."
His tone was unwavering.
> "Tell us how you found us. Because the moment we speak, you'll probably kill us. At least let us die knowing our mistake."
Ruok blinked… and laughed.
> "Hahaha… You're a bold one."
Meanwhile, Moon gritted his teeth.
The ropes were tight—almost too tight to breathe—but he didn't care. His muscles tensed, wrists twisting against the strange, mechanical bindings that pulsed faintly with energy. They weren't ordinary ropes. Each time he resisted, they seemed to tighten microscopically, like they were learning from his movements.
But he kept trying.
His veins throbbed. His shoulders ached. The strain in his jaw was visible. He was never the type to accept defeat—not in silence.
Then—
> "Don't bother."
Ruok's voice cut through the room like a casual blade.
He didn't even turn around.
> "Those are professional-grade restraints," he continued. "Rookie-level strength won't break them. You'll just tire yourself out, Black Shirt."
He said it with ease, like it was a known fact. Like Moon wasn't even worth watching.
Moon stopped moving.
He didn't flinch. Didn't glare. Didn't argue.
He simply turned.
Slowly, his sharp green eyes locked with Kai's calm blue ones.
No words.
Just a look.
A fraction of a second passed.
And Kai understood.
That one glance said everything:
"Wait. Watch. Time it right."
Kai's chin lowered, a quiet nod.
In unison, the two brothers went still.
The room grew heavier in the silence that followed. No struggling. No sound—just the low hum of energy in the mechanical ropes and the distant buzz of a failing light above.
Ruok noticed.
He leaned back in his scrap-metal throne, satisfaction blooming on his face.
> "Good," he muttered. "Smart boys. Resistance gets you nothing."
He smiled—a slow, satisfied curve of the lips.
> "Now we're getting somewhere."
He reached for the bottle beside him, poured himself a drink in a dented metal cup, and raised it slightly in their direction like a toast.
> "Let's talk about mistakes, shall we?"
His words were calm.
But Moon's still gaze said otherwise.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
> "You really thought only you two noticed me during that fox essence hunt?"
Moon and Kai's eyes widened.
Ruok smirked.
> "At first, I wasn't sure. You were with two girls and a guy, and I don't take risks—especially in this wild zone."
He exhaled slowly.
> "So, I had them investigated. Turns out, they're heirs of the Hale, Xiao clan and that boy heir of Lee companies."
He whistled, amused.
> "I thought, 'How the hell did two nobodies get connected to people like that?' But still… no risks. I immediately hired 50–60 assassins. Set up the whole thing in my quarters."
He clenched his fist, frustrated.
> "Unfortunately, they left the Expanse this morning. All of them. My entire setup, wasted."
He chuckled bitterly.
> "Still, I didn't chase. That's why I'm still alive in this cursed place."
Kai lowered his eyes, lips pressed tight. He understood now. His mistake. He should've planned better. Trusted less.
> Next time, he vowed silently, I'll plan everything to perfection.
Ruok's voice returned.
> "Now, I've told you. Your turn."
Kai looked at Moon.
Their eyes met.
Moon's glowing green irises shimmered with something sharp. Cunning.
Kai's calm blue gaze remained steady—but inside, a storm raged.:
Without a single word, Moon exhaled.
His gaze lowered, not in defeat—but in focus.
He stilled.
His breathing slowed.
And in that moment, something changed.
He didn't scream. He didn't warn. He didn't even look up.
But deep within his body, something ancient stirred.
He didn't activate his Vajra Body—not fully. No glowing aura, no transformation. Just as catalyst, hidden inside him like a storm contained in a glass jar.
He focused.
Compressed it.
And then—
CRACKK!!
The explosion wasn't loud at first—it was sharp. Like the crack of divine lightning tearing through reality. A massive thunderbolt burst outward from Moon's body, radiating in a sphere of pure electrical force.
The room lit up in an instant, shadows stretching violently across the walls. Sparks danced in the air, searing white and electric blue. The metallic ropes hissed as they sizzled, overcharged.
But even as the current spread like wildfire—Kai remained perfectly still.
In the same breath Moon released his energy, Kai had already moved. Not physically—but mentally. Like a reflex trained through repetition.
From the pores of his skin, a thin membrane of distilled water flowed—transparent, subtle, like a second skin.
It wrapped around him smoothly.
The electricity surged toward him…
And passed over without harm.
Insulated.
Untouched.
A simple scientific trick they learned at Zenith Vista's combat chamber—back when failure meant bruises, not death.
The ropes, unable to handle the sudden overload, snapped apart with a sound like breaking glass.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
And just like that—
They were free.
Moon straightened his posture, steam rising from his forearms. His hands curled into fists. His eyes glowed faintly, lightning flickering in the green.
Kai rotated his wrists calmly, brushing a few crackling sparks off his shoulder like dust.
Not a single scratch.
Not a word exchanged.
But everything had changed.
---
Ruok's jaw dropped.
His cup fell from his hand.
It hit the floor with a hollow clang—but he didn't even flinch. His mouth was half open, eyes twitching in disbelief.
> "What… the hell?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
His face looked like a burnt monkey's. Mouth open. Eyes twitching.
Two nearby assassins moved instantly—no orders needed. Daggers drawn, aiming straight for the two.
Moon caught the tip of one dagger mid-air. It crumbled in his grip like butter.
Before the assassin could blink, Moon sliced his throat—and ripped it from the body .
Kai, silent as ever, turned slightly—snapping the second assassin's neck with a clean twist.
Blood sprayed.
Everyone froze.
Especially Ruok.
> "T-They're still rookies… aren't they?"
He couldn't believe it.
His lips trembled.
Then he screamed.
> "EVERYONE, ATTACK! NOW!!"
More than thirty assassins surged forward at once.
A flood of motion—cloaks flapping, daggers gleaming, boots thudding against the metal floor.
Blades flashed.
Screams echoed.
The room, once silent, erupted into pure chaos.
---
Moon didn't flinch.
His eyes narrowed. His lips didn't move.
No war cry. No technique name.
Just violence.
Raw. Primal. Beautifully ugly.
He launched himself into the horde like a cannonball wrapped in muscle and fury.
The first assassin barely had time to raise his blade before Moon's knee drove into his ribs—shattering them inward like glass beneath a boot. The man collapsed without a sound.
Another slashed at Moon's side—but Moon grabbed the attacker's wrist mid-swing, crushed it in his grip, then spun, using the man's own body as a club to knock three more off their feet.
Blood sprayed. Teeth flew. A femur snapped so loudly it echoed.
By now, four bodies hung limp in Moon's left hand—gripped by their hair like puppets. He swung them like meat shields, their dead weight absorbing knives and darts as he punched straight through the living.
His right hand was a weapon of mass destruction.
Every swing broke bone. Every strike caved in skulls.
He didn't aim. He didn't dodge.
He simply moved through them, like a storm through a wheat field.
---
Kai, by contrast, was precise.
Cold.
Controlled.
Lethal.
His stance was loose, relaxed—shoulders low, feet light. His expression remained unchanged, almost bored, as if this was just another simulation.
One assassin came from behind—Kai turned just enough, caught the man's blade on his forearm, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man's neck. A clean crunch. No scream.
Two more attacked from either side.
Kai ducked beneath the first, swept his leg across the floor, and snapped a kneecap sideways—then drove a finger into the second's eye with brutal precision.
He weaved between attacks like he'd already seen them. His footwork was silent, deliberate, mathematical.
Every motion was a solution.
Every strike was an answer.
When a knife came toward his throat, he didn't block it—he shifted, letting the blade graze his skin by a hair's width, then shattered the attacker's ribs with three rapid punches to the sternum.
His knuckles barely stained with blood.
---
Within seconds, over a dozen lay motionless.
Some unconscious.
Some twitching.
Most—already dead.
---
Ruok couldn't breathe.
His breath came in short, panicked gasps.
He backed against the wall, eyes wide, watching as the two boys he thought were rookies tore through his elite assassins like they were made of paper.
Sweat ran down his temples in rivers.
> "How…?" he whispered, voice cracking.
"Two months… it's only been two damn months…"
It didn't make sense.
Their stats were supposed to be low.
Their gear was second-rate.
Their names weren't even registered in elite circles.
And yet…
Bodies fell like leaves in a storm.
One assassin tried to crawl away—his spine broken, his eyes full of terror.
Moon walked past him without even a glance—and stepped on the back of the man's neck. A wet crunch. Silence.
Kai turned and caught a flying dagger—with two fingers—before flicking it back into its owner's eye.
The assassin screamed. Then stopped screaming.
---
Ruok's legs trembled.
This wasn't a fight anymore.
This was a slaughter.
And they hadn't even activated their full power yet.
That's when he remembered.
He turned around.
In the far back, slouched on a bench with a beer mug in hand, sat a man.
Eight feet tall.
Broad chest. Thick limbs. Long black hair.
He didn't seem bothered by the violence at all.
Ruok ran to him and fell at his feet.
> "Tom…! Sir Tom, please! Help me fight them!"
The man, Tom, looked up lazily. His black sunglasses caught the flicker of lightning and fire behind him.
He stared at Ruok, then at the two brothers.
Then smirked.
> "You never paid me."
He took another sip.
> "But whatever. I drank your beer, so I guess I'll take a look. Just don't cry if I die."
He chuckled. Placed the mug down.
And stood.
His towering figure moved toward the battlefield.
Moon and Kai paused.
They turned.
The pile of bodies at their feet shifted as they tossed the dead aside and stepped forward.
Then they saw him.
The giant.
Broad shoulders. Thick arms. An aura so heavy it made the air feel denser.
Tom.
Their next challenge.
To the continued...