Chapter 431: Alien Children
Silas stood on top of a luxurious car that had been parked in front of the club.
His little form as that of a child seemed very lonely at this time of the night.
Under the moonlight, he had his arm behind his back and his small shoulders were relaxed.
The edges of his white cloak fluttered in the cool evening wind, giving him a melancholic aura.
Just from looking at him, one would feel as if they were staring at the loneliest person in the entire universe.
*Sigh!*
Silas took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.
Today, he experienced something for the first time, something he had never gotten the chance to experience.
He turned his head to the side slightly, and his peripheral vision captured the burning building behind him.
On the floor, broken into two pieces was the signboard of the club with the word, [Holy S...] separated from its other half, [...in Club].
The neon lights had long gone off, allowing the signboard to bask in its former glory one more time before it was consumed by the fire.
"NO NO NO, PLEASE!... Argh!"
The sound of someone’s guts being pulled out of his open belly reached Silas’s ears.
Silas turned around fully to see something straight out of a horror show.
The Holy Sin Club which had been standing proud and bright a few minutes ago, filled with people hoping to get drunk or laid, was now nothing but a pile of burning ruins.
The club was burnt down in such a short moment, an arsonist would be amazed.
Dead bodies lay on the floor. Men, women, bodyguards who had tried to fight back, those who had tried to escape, they were all there. Dead on the floor.
Their bodies were either burnt, torn to pieces, or squashed to bloody bits.
The flames of the burning club still rage and the tongues of fire ascended to the sky, offering the night multiple glowing embers as if to mourn the death of the innocents.
Silas’s eyes, currently watery, reflected some disturbing images.
His siblings, like mad demons for the deepest and most depraved parts of the abyss, danced and laughed to their hearts’ content.
No music was being played but they jumped around to their own rhythm, dancing with the dead bodies and bathing themselves in the blood of their victims.
Kratos, his bloody face was plastered with a wide grin. He held in one hand the severed arm of a woman, and in the other arm, the woman’s head.
He spun around on his tiptoes, spreading blood to douse the fire. But the fire wasn’t put out.
In one corner, Raymond and Victor, playfully fought each other to divide the torso of a man.
At another corner, Victoria and Raychel gyrated to the sparks of the burning wires.
The mad cackles of their youngest, Hannah, were heard from the center of the carnage and destruction.
Close to Silas’s position, Ozia held a man dressed in bodyguard attire by the neck, his other hand was stuck into the man’s open guts, and he fished around for something.
Blood dyed the man’s lips and jaws, as well as Ozia’s chest and hand. It was only at this moment that one could appreciate Ozia’s true intelligence for he now had a reason to show it.
That dangerous light of intellectual superiority flashed through his eyes repeatedly.
It was a moment when his emotions had taken a back seat and logic mixed with the desire to kill governed his body.
"Found it," Ozia said expressionlessly. He then pulled out slowly.
He deliberately made sure his movements were slow.
His bloodied hand came out of the open abdomen, pulling out the man’s intestines in the process.
The bodyguard screamed. His head was the only thing he could move at the moment. This demonic child had cast some kind of spell on him that made him unable to move his limbs.
He could still feel the pain though, he could feel it very clearly.
He felt as if his small intestines were being dragged out of his abdomen. The tissues and nerve endings cut one by one, sending the man into a state of maddening despair.
The art of delivering a life worse than death, Ozia had mastered it. He was intelligent and powerful enough to come up with creative ways to make his enemies suffer.
Silas watched these bloody proceedings with tear-filled eyes.
’It’s beautiful, it’s sad,’ He thought to himself.
Two crystal clear streams of tears streamed down his smooth cheeks.
Silas kept his two arms behind his back and his chin was slightly raised, he didn’t bother to wipe his tears at all.
These weren’t tears of joy, they also weren’t tears of sadness.
They were tears of understanding.
The collective cries for help and the feeling of helplessness that these humans felt before dying stunned Silas to tears.
Silas was already an emotional type and he was already struggling to stay cool witnessing all the carnage caused by his siblings.
But he let them do as they pleased because of what he felt from these humans.
These humans had burst out with cries of helplessness and despair, praying for someone to save them.
These emotional outbursts were all absorbed by Silas.
Silas had just discovered something extraordinary, something that even his father might not know of.
Synchronizing with minds or souls during periods of strong emotional activities could strengthen his own spiritual powers and keep him in a state of sustained enlightenment.
What Silas was feeling was akin to what a regular human would feel after smoking a certain kind of weed for the first time.
Silas felt light, he felt beautiful, he felt pure and dignified.
"Is this what I live for? To share in the pain and pleasure of these...mortals?" Silas asked himself.
He seemed to be at a breaking point, unable to make a decision for his life.
Yes, as his siblings slaughtered these humans from this club, he shared in their pain.
He felt everything they felt, all at once.
When their heads were ripped off their shoulders by Kratos, he felt it. When their bodies were burnt and electrocuted by the twins, he felt it too.
When vines broke through the teeth defense of their mouths and slithered down their throats, he felt it very clearly.
He felt it...all.
One small mistake had caused all this.
The man Ozia was currently torturing was the same bodyguard who had dared to slap Joan, their sister from Zabita’s side.
For Joan, pain was not a problem. She had been beaten to a pulp by people like Katari and her mother and some of her siblings.
It wasn’t the first time someone had raised their hand to try and hit Joan.
Unfortunately for the bodyguard, he was not aware of the true nature of these children.
Not only did he hurt from slapping Joan, but he also didn’t know how he even found himself in this nightmarish situation.
Everything had happened so fast.
First, there was a rise in killing intent, strong enough to be felt by everyone in the club.
The music had stopped, the lights had gone off. Then all hell was let loose.
The children of the king saw an assault on their sister, even though harmless, as an insult to their personal pride and dignity.
How could someone slap their own sister just like that, without consequences? It was audacious.
Within the first ten seconds, the roof of the club had been ripped off, and the following seconds were a slaughter fest.
These children were stronger, faster, and some were more intelligent than the average human.
They had no human sympathy at all, they were detached from the atrocities they were committing, not even seeing any wrong in it at all.
To them, human lives were as valuable as their next meal, nothing but a bag of meat to be picked on when they wanted.
That was how these alien children saw human life.
Worthless.
Even Silas had a limit to how much he could sympathize with other creatures, he was a Lion first, a spirit lion second.
N’bayé’s instructions had momentarily escaped their minds as they enjoyed the feeling of being...gods.
*AWOOOOOOOOOO!*
The loud howl of a wolf reverberated from the wreckage. It was the last howl of a dying werewolf.
This werewolf had at least put up a fight. But against Jeremiah who was a tier 4 entity, the werewolf was nothing.
He was killed with a single slap.
Silas sighed again, realizing that they would all be receiving some scolding soon enough.
*AWOOOOOOOO!*
Another werewolf howl, this one was different.
It didn’t come from the wreckage of the Holy Sun Club. This howl came from the depths of the city itself, far away from the club.
Yet, it reached the ears of the King’s children.
Silas turned around, Ozia paused his torture, and the others looked at the distance.
"So fast?" Kratos asked no one in particular.
Silas scoffed, "Father may be watching, behave yourselves."