The moment Stranger opened his eyes, he was confronted by such a shocking scene that his legs went weak.
"...Ah, ah ah..."
His throat gurgled as it rolled, producing meaningless sounds.
His pupils contracted, and his vision darkened. Stranger collapsed directly onto the ground—not merely because he had been knocked down by that "flying kick," but because his mind had gone blank and he had become dizzy, causing his legs to give out.
Stranger was not afraid of corpses, much less dead people.
As a Fourth Level Calamity Splicer, although he had not yet graduated from school, he had already taken over and pieced together countless corpses. In fact, before he could even speak properly, he had already begun learning the art of stitching corpses from his sister and father. To him, human corpses were merely materials, no different from clay or building blocks.
One of his friends came from a family of clockmakers. That fellow had played with pocket watches since childhood, while Stranger had played with corpses. To him, they were the same.
--But this was the first time Stranger had ever seen a living person become a corpse.
The extraordinary dynamic vision of a transcendent allowed him to see everything. The old man's face still held an expression of fear and shock as his entire body twisted and shattered beneath the flames and pressure. His body, crushed by the pressure, looked like a tomato stuffed with a firecracker. Countless jets of blood shot out like countless needles, and when they struck his body, it felt as though they were being driven straight into his marrow.
Stranger could not even tell whether the blood had gained penetrating and impacting force under the extreme pressure, or whether the pain he felt was merely an illusion.
He did not even