Modified Human from Hell

The video feed on the Sky Communicator kept switching.

Yet no matter how it changed, it always alternated between this corpse and the face of another young man.

Outside the town reduced to ruins, a gust of wind swept past.

It blew the thick black smoke rising everywhere behind him sideways and gently lifted the wide cloak.

Beneath the cloak, legs covered in mechanical tubing were revealed.

The tubes snaking out from the torn trouser legs gleamed with a metallic sheen.

The wind and sand beneath the blazing sun struck those mechanical legs, which seemed to be nothing more than a disguise, producing sharp crackling sounds.

But the wind was only strong enough to do that; it could not blow open the cloak.

When he saw that young man's face again and heard the four clear sentences coming from the Sky Communicator—

His right hand, clad in a brown leather glove, slowly clenched.

With a creak, the metal-bodied Sky Communicator was crushed into a lump of scrap in his palm.

His right hand tightened further, and the scrap burst through his fingers, crumbling into powder that fell onto the ground.

Two eerie red lights lit up beneath the cloak, followed by a cold, crazed laugh:

"Fatty, you never expected to die so soon, did you?"

"Of course, neither did I. But don't worry. I'll pound him into meat paste. I'll make him die ten times worse than you did. I'll record it all and make sure he's the one who dies the most miserably under the Blood Fang Order."

"Haha, hahaha, hahahahaha..."

"My good sparring partner is dead, so I'll use you for practice instead."

Amid his mad laughter, the man in the wide cloak took a step forward, leaving a deep footprint in the saline-alkali soil.

At that moment,