The cold, gloomy underground cellar beneath Amegakure had become a massive slaughterhouse.
Several rusty ventilation pipes that had not yet been cleared away were piled in the corner. The rust on their walls had clumped together, and the air reeked of old motor oil mixed with the sour stench of rotting corpses, stinging the nose.
Yoru stood there carelessly, one corner of the hem of his black cloak patterned with red clouds soaked through by filthy water seeping up from underground, dripping black sludge.
He casually pulled out a piece of flavorless chewing gum, picked it from his mouth, and stuck it onto a nearby metal operating table still stained with the dark red blood left behind from last night's cleanup of Kara members.
"Not dead yet?"
Yoru walked over to the messy pile of Inner members' remains, tangled together like rotten mud. His leather shoe crunched sharply over shattered glass.
These people on the ground had always called themselves "vessels" above mere mortals, but now they looked exactly like dead loaches tossed onto a chopping board.
The woman called Delta had half her face blasted into charcoal. Her carefully lined eyelids twitched incessantly, making for a particularly absurd sight.
"Lord Yoru, their genetic sequences contain far too many alien impurities."
Orochimaru slithered out from the shadows. His white lab coat, which should have been pristine, was now as filthy as if he had just crawled out of an African coal mine, and half a broken prosthetic gear still hung from one sleeve.
His golden snake eyes gleamed with the deranged light of someone eager to dissect people alive. His tongue swept across his lips, leaving behind a glistening trail of saliva.
"I told you. These Kara people are nothing but a bunch of brutes without any technical skill. They