SLASH! CRUNCH! SLICE!
Severed arms, shattered ribs, and decapitated heads flew into the air, painting the crumbling clay walls in a thick, continuous sheet of crimson. The peak Body Tempering mercenaries, despite having refined their internal organs to the density of iron, found their bodies effortlessly bisected and split in two by a cheap piece of steel that didn't even carry a drop of divine energy.
Within mere seconds, the hundred-man horde was reduced to a screaming, disorganized mess of fleeing flesh. But Ethan was infinitely faster, cutting off every single path of escape before they could even clear the alleyway.
Sensing the absolute annihilation of their forces, the three syndicate leaders completely lost their minds to panic. Their advanced Spiritual Mist energy flared wildly around their weapons as they instinctively huddled together, raising their blades in a desperate, synchronized defensive stance, completely terrified to advance.
