I wanted Walter to drown in it. I wanted him to feel the cold, suffocating grip of death wrapping around his throat, squeezing until his world narrowed to nothing but the horror in front of him. So I moved.

In one fluid motion, I lunged forward, my body a blur of controlled violence. The knife in my hand flashed like silver lightning, slicing through the air with a whisper of death. The first man didn't even have time to register the pain before the blade found his throat.

Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, hot and thick, splattering across the faces of his comrades. His body crumpled to the ground, his fingers twitching in his final moments. I didn't stop.

I twisted, rolling low as the next man fired, bullets whizzing past me like a swarm of furious wasps. My knife found his stomach first, the blade sinking in with a sickening wet sound. He gasped, his eyes wide with shock, but I wasn't done.

I dragged the knife upward, splitting his chest open before slashing across his neck. His body convulsed, blood bubbling from his lips as I kicked him away, sending him crashing into the men behind him.

"You're next," I whispered to the man beside him, my voice a deadly caress that made his skin crawl. Before he could react, the knife flashed again, burying itself deep into his skull. His body went rigid, his mouth opening in a silent scream as I twisted the blade free with a wet, tearing sound.

Blood dripped from the knife as I spun, driving it into the gut of another soldier. He screamed, a high, keening wail that echoed through the room as I lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

With a snarl, I hurled him toward Walter. His body hit the floor with a sickening thud, his head rolling to a stop at Walter's feet, his lifeless eyes staring up at his leader.

"No! No, no, no—!" Walter stumbled back, his face contorting in horror. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands shaking violently as he stared at the severed head, the blood pooling around it like a grotesque halo. "What the fuck are you?!" he screamed, his voice cracking.

I didn't give him time to recover. I was already moving again, a whirlwind of death and steel. The knife danced in my hand, slicing through flesh and bone as if they were nothing. The next man tried to raise his gun, but I was faster.

My blade found his wrist first, severing his hand cleanly. His gun clattered to the floor as he screamed, clutching the stump of his arm. I didn't let him suffer long. The knife flashed again, this time across his throat, and he collapsed, choking on his own blood.

I grabbed another soldier by the hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. "Watch closely, Walter," I called out, my voice dripping with mocking amusement. The knife sliced through his neck with ease, the sound of severing tendons and bone sickeningly loud.

I held the head up by the hair, letting the blood drip onto the floor before hurling it at Walter. It bounced once, rolling to a stop at his feet.

Walter let out a choked sob, his legs giving out as he stumbled back, his pants darkening with the spreading stain of urine. "Pathetic," I sneered, laughing as he scrambled away, his face twisted in terror.

The remaining men were in full retreat now, their guns forgotten as they scrambled to escape the slaughter. But one of them, bolder or more desperate than the rest, lunged at me with a knife of his own. The blade touched my skin—and cracked. The metal shattered as if it had struck diamond, the pieces clattering to the floor.

The man's eyes widened in disbelief, his face pale with shock. I chuckled, the sound low and dark, as I grabbed his wrist and twisted. Bone snapped, and he screamed, his knife—what was left of it—falling from his fingers.

"Did you really think that would work?" I murmured, my voice a venomous purr. I drove my knife into his chest, twisting it slowly, savoring the way his body convulsed. "I told you. You're all so weak."

Walter's men hesitated, their faces drained of color, their weapons trembling in their grips. "Shoot him!" Walter screamed, his voice shrill and desperate. "Shoot him, you cowards! Shoot him now!"

The remaining men raised their weapons, their fingers tight on the triggers. Machine guns and automatic rifles roared to life, the room erupting in a storm of bullets. I didn't move.

I didn't flinch. I stood there, letting the hail of lead tear through me, each bullet hitting my skin with a dull thud before falling harmlessly to the ground.

My shirt was shredded in seconds, the fabric dissolving into tattered strips. Beneath it, my skin was flawless—unmarked, unharmed, untouched.

The room fell silent.

Walter's men stared, their guns lowering as their faces drained of color. "Impossible..." one of them whispered, his voice trembling.

Walter's eyes were wide, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Are you guys with him?" he demanded, his voice breaking.

"Is this some kind of trick? Fake bullets? Motherfucker—!" His hand shook as he raised the gun he'd used to kill the bodyguard, the same one still warm with blood. He fired.

The bullet hit me square in the chest.

And bounced off.

I didn't even blink. I just took another step forward, my smile widening as Walter's face twisted in horror. "No... no, no, no—!" he stammered, backing away, his legs trembling beneath him. The dark stain spreading down his leg grew larger, the acrid scent of urine filling the air.

"Just like his son," I murmured, my voice dripping with amusement. Walter's gun clattered to the floor as he collapsed to his knees, his hands shaking, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. "Please..." he whimpered, his voice breaking. "Please, no—"

I crouched in front of him, tilting his chin up with the tip of my knife. "Begging already?" I whispered, my voice a venomous purr.

"Good. I want you to beg. I want you to grovel. I want you to feel every second of the terror your son felt before I sent him to hell." I pressed the knife harder against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood. "But don't worry, Walter. I haven't even started."

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