The guitarist, with trembling hands and tears in his eyes, gouged out the eye of one of the mercenaries, who screamed. He then brought the eye to his mouth, bit it, and a whitish, bloody liquid dripped from the right corner of his lips.
"That's the one, kill him and move on to the next one," Dylan ordered.
The guitarist pulled out a dagger and stabbed it into the mercenary's forehead, then walked toward the next one, who looked at him in horror.
••••
Dylan walked away from the wagon he had been traveling in and set off down the road leading to the city of Teristan.
[Evil Deeds: +5]
Laughter!
Dylan laughed with satisfaction at the number of points he had earned by cruelly and wickedly killing mercenaries and adventurers who possessed mana.
"Put the Perverse Points into the Mana attribute," Dylan ordered as he continued on his way.
[Mana +5 'Perverse Points']
[Mana: 77]
••••
The adventurous guitarist wept, his mouth filled with the disgusting taste of a sin he could never erase.
Everyone around him was dead. He had fulfilled the request. He looked toward the place where the evil man in the robe should have been.
Screams!
Tears!
The adventurer pulled hard at his hair, then struck the surface of the cart in which he had traveled with all the victims who were now dead.
"I can't tell anyone about this; because if they find out I was involved, they won't mind torturing me and then executing me. Yes, they would only believe a nobleman. What should I do? What have I done?" The adventurer guitarist took his guitar, played a funeral song to say goodbye to the dead, and a few minutes later, hanged himself from the first tree he found.
••••
When night had fallen, the cold breeze blew incessantly. on the compacted dirt road covered in snow, Dylan floated toward the city of Teristan. Behind him lay crimson snow stained with the blood of black wolves that had dared to attack him. He severed all their limbs and stopped their bleeding so that they would die slowly, dehydrated, starved, or frozen.
••••
In a town called Santun, on the border.
The viscount was in a military tent, sitting at a desk, drinking strong liquor after learning of his son's disappearance.
"Why are they attacking my family so much? My son, my pride and joy, are you alive? Are you okay? I would return, but that is what they want. They would only degrade us further, and we would soon lose our last trace of nobility, becoming the target of those who have persecuted us. I cannot allow that to happen to my family." In the viscount's eyes appeared a trace of darkness typical of those with deep hatred and resentment.
Bang!
The liquor bottle crashed to the floor, and the viscount brought his right hand, covered by a black leather glove, to his forehead.
"This war will not end soon," the viscount concluded after reading some reports.
••••
Midday
Dylan, still wearing his hood and tunic, was traveling in an empty cart driven by a man with tanned skin and short brown hair, about 20 years old, wearing a cream-colored sweater, brown pants, and old boots.
The man acting as coachman was sweating profusely; he was terrified.
A short time earlier, just an hour before sunrise, a caravan of gypsies was parked on the side of the road, eating breakfast, drinking, and celebrating, until the man in the robe appeared and killed two gypsies on the spot. Then he offered a gruesome deal, and when everyone refused, he slowly dismembered them all without killing them. Everyone could watch as they were tortured as if they were mere insects. Only one remained intact, and he was an adventurer who happened to be traveling with the gypsies. Finally, when he grew bored, he ordered the adventurer to behead all the gypsies, and that is why the terrified adventurer of 2 Suns is now acting as the driver of the wagon in which Dylan is currently traveling.
…
"How long until we reach the city of Teristan?" asked Dylan.
The adventurer swallowed hard, then replied in a trembling voice:
"At the rate we're going, we'll be there in three days."
"Make it two days, or your death will be horrible," Dylan ordered, and finally laughed with satisfaction, since the gypsies gave him a total of 0.5 Perverse Points, and that was better than nothing.
"As you command, my lord," added the adventurer, whose stomach was churning and who was struggling to contain the urge to defecate caused by fear.
...
[Mana +0.5 Perverse Points]
[Mana: 77.5]
••••
It was nighttime, the snow was falling heavily, the cold was intense, and all the citizens were in their homes.
Bang!
The doors of houses, buildings, and shops were knocked down, and men dressed in black leather clothes, with long hair, mustaches, and long black beards entered the houses, buildings, and shops.
Screams!
Tears!
Blood!
"Get away from my daughter!" exclaimed a man dressed in simple clothes in a small house.
Shortly after, that man's face was disfigured in front of his daughter and mother. The man's face was smashed against a table by a burly man.
"Ha ha ha, try talking now. Come on, Fuck them!" shouted the burly man.
The men accompanying him grabbed the man's daughter and the old woman and showed that they had no scruples.
"Don't worry, friend, your daughter was a little chubby, I like them a little thinner," said the burly man, before cutting off the head of the man who had tried to defend his daughter and mother.
They were a faction of warriors from the kingdom of Zarco, called the "jackals."
They were Zarcorian who had been pardoned for their crimes so that they could participate in the war against the Acadis kingdom.
That night, more than half of the population of that city was killed in a surprise attack, and the rest of the survivors were taken as slaves.