"Rip them apart" sounded like a phrase in the subjunctive mood, often used in mobilization orders. It certainly sounded imposing, at least to ordinary people.
But perhaps murderers shared a certain mutual understanding in the way they thought. Jack did not take it merely as a call to battle. He understood what Schiller meant: literally, "rip them apart."
If a monster possessed Self-Healing, then the best way to deal with it was not piercing, but cutting. No Self-Healing ability could restore limbs without limit. Put more extremely, Self-Healing could not save dumpling filling.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Every time Jack swung his scimitar, the gleam of his blade resembled a New Moon hanging in the sky. As several New Moons rippled outward around him, they became like petals encasing him, blooming outward bit by bit.
The first Jackal monster touched by the blade light was slashed across its neck, chest, abdomen, and right thigh. Its fur and muscles failed to defend it, and its bones did not halt the scimitar either. The Moonlight Murderer's blade light passed through it as though cutting a slab of half-melted butter.
By the time Jack Blinked behind that monster, beneath the moonlight, it collapsed behind him like building blocks piled up by a child.
Purple light continuously flickered across the cross-sections of its severed limbs. Yet this Self-Healing ability had fallen into an awkward predicament, because the pieces Jack had cut apart were all roughly the same size. No matter which piece was used as the basis to revive the monster, at least ninety percent of its body would have to be created from nothing.
After flickering twice, the purple light vanished completely as though its battery had died. Those bloody chunks then turned into black water and disappeared into cracks in the ground.
Schiller,