Kael expressionlessly swung an arm.
His excessive strength and speed turned the motion of his punch into some dreadful omen of murder. The tearing shriek his arm made as it sliced through the air drowned out even the gunfire for an instant.
Then, a head was smashed into a hazy spray of blood.
At last, an expression of disgust crossed Kael's face.
But he had to do it.
Blood continued to gush from the horrifying wound in the headless corpse without pause. A massive wound meant massive blood loss. Even after it collapsed to the ground, the blood did not stop erupting.
Kael stepped over it and hooked the autogun that had fallen beside the body up with his toe. The weapon had never been of any help to him in battle, and was even less so now. But he needed them.
More precisely, he needed them for one thing.
He walked past the corpse and tossed the autogun into a burlap sack slung over his shoulder. It was enormous, large enough to obscure part of Kael's body even in his current form.
One last trip, Kael thought.
Standing beside the door ruined by bullets, he took one final look back at the wreckage inside. With the sack on his back and blood all over his body, anyone unaware of the truth would probably have taken him for a robber.
But he was not.
And doing this, in a sense, also violated one of the rules he had once set for himself.
He entered the darkness, his expression indifferent and his movements nimble. Nothing waited in the dark—only acid rain and neon lights slicing across the sky, while a cacophony of mingled sounds drifted from some district eight hundred meters away.
Kael was unmoved by it. His work for tonight