"Monster? No. I'm just a passerby who can't stand watching a chūnibyō destroy the world." Yoru walked toward Nagato step by step, his soles splashing through puddles of motor oil and stale blood with sticky, squelching sounds. Every step landed heavily, as if stomping viciously on Nagato's heart, which was already close to shutting down. The lazy sneer on his face had vanished, replaced by an impersonal chill that seemed capable of freezing the air itself, like a god looking down from on high at a toad rolling in the mud.
Nagato clenched the rusty iron handle of the life-support apparatus before him. His mummified fingers had turned deathly pale at the joints from the force, while thick, bloody phlegm ran down through the stubble on his chin. He tried to summon the last remnants of chakra in his body to retaliate, only to discover in despair that the surrounding air had become as viscous as cement. The crushing pressure nearly pulverized his bones. "You... don't even think about it..." He panted heavily, his green eyes trembling wildly with immense fear.
"You sure talk a lot." Yoru walked up to the towering life-support pod without even blinking. He thrust out his fair, well-proportioned right hand through layer upon layer of protective barriers and grabbed Nagato by the collar. With one hand, he exerted force without the slightest concern for the thick black rods plugged into Nagato's back and connected to the life-support tubes. Like pulling up a weed from the roadside, he simply and brutally tore the half-dead man from the iron frame!
"Pfft! Riiip!"
The screech of snapping metal pipes and the sound of tearing flesh echoed miserably through the sealed chamber.
Several black chakra rods embedded in Nagato's flesh were forcibly ripped free, dragging out a large spray