"Y-You... who are you?!"
As he looked at the man seated high upon the throne, the young King had even forgotten his anger and doubts, instead blurting out a question as if possessed.
But no one answered him.
The tall young man, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, merely extended his index finger like it was a joke and aimed it at his head.
"Bang—"
Before the many terrified nobles, their King seemed to be quite cooperative, tilting his head before collapsing to the floor, dead or alive unknown.
There were no wounds or bloodstains whatsoever.
"Bang—"
The brief silence was broken by another sound effect. A middle-aged nobleman whose body was piled high with fat inexplicably fell once more.
From that moment on,
the pig-slaughtering feast began...
The nobles, who had once cared so much about bloodlines and bearing, no longer cared whether they bumped into relatives or friends. They trampled over them as they desperately squeezed toward the palace exit.
The man seated atop the throne lightly tapped his finger forward, like a child playing with a gun.
Perhaps because they had lived in luxury for too long and grown accustomed to sucking the blood of the common people, they could not even make it out of the palace in a short time.
Figures fell one after another, only to be stepped on by their companions as footstools.
Perhaps he found the pistol too slow.
Amid the nobles' furious expressions, the man on the throne smiled and raised another hand.
And it was not just his index fingers; the middle fingers of both hands were raised as well.
Then the sound effects from his mouth began to speed up.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat..."
Like a stunt performer, without spilling a drop of blood, he soon had bodies strewn all