The man's legs gave out and he stumbled backward until his spine struck a counter behind him, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs in short, broken gasps. His eyes never left Alex. He did not blink. He did not dare to.
Alex descended slowly. There was no sound as the distance between them collapsed, no rush of air, no pressure.
Alex's hand closed around the man's throat, not tight or crushing, just firm enough.
The floor lost its claim on the man as Alex lifted him effortlessly, as though gravity itself had momentarily forgotten its purpose. The man's feet kicked uselessly in the air, scraping against nothing.
Alex studied him at close range. His gleaming eyes reflected a face stripped bare... no arrogance, no authority, no illusion of power left behind. Only fear and disbelief remained.
This was one of the men... just a curse that had decided to ruin his life.
There was no anger in Alex's expression. No satisfaction or hesitation.
His fingers tightened. Blood and mangled flesh sprayed across the filthy floor as the man's whole upper body separated with a wet, final sound. What remained below the waist dropped back down in one uneven half, striking the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.
Above the building, searchlights snapped into focus.
The thunderous sound of helicopter rotors drowned every other noise.
Multiple beams from hovering aircraft converged on the shattered room, bathing the scene in harsh white light.
"Holy shit!"
A soldier wearing a military helmet exclaimed inside an armored helicopter, his knuckles whitening around the grips of a mounted machine gun. His voice shook as the image burned itself into his eyes.
"Do you read me, Thirteen?" another voice demanded sharply through a tactical headset. The speaker sat in the cockpit of a separate heavily armored helicopter, posture rigid, expression twisted with tightly restrained fear. His rank was unmistakable.
"How's the evacuation progressing?"
"All... citizens... have been... evacuated from the target building, sir!" the reply came after a second. It was cracking, distorted, panic bleeding through every syllable.
The officer nodded. Slowly, he reached up and pulled a hanging microphone closer to his mouth.
"All units," he said, voice steady despite the chaos flooding his senses, "fire at will."
The night exploded.
Gunfire erupted from every direction. Deafening, relentless. Tracers tore through the air. Rockets streaked forward in screaming arcs, slamming into the room Alex stood in.
He looked up as frustration flickered across his otherwise empty face.
His human reasoning was gone. There was no fear, no confusion... only instinct remained. Raw and predatory.
Bullets pierced him by the dozens, tearing through flesh and bone, only to be erased the instant they penetrated him. His body absorbed them as though they had never existed. Rockets were different. Those, his instincts deemed dangerous.
He dodged them effortlessly. The room became shrouded in heavy smoke that almost choked him.
A slight tilt of the body and shift in position was all it took to dodge the heavier fire.
The explosions and impacts could be endured. It was the wrecked building that suffered the most impact.
The noise irritated him. The endless flashing lights, the shrieking metal, the chaos... it was all meaningless. Not worth his focus, but still distracting.
Only one thing mattered to him now... erase the Selflaw.
Alex bolted out of the rubble without a sound, tearing through the air as he vanished into the night. The bombardment continued long after he was gone, soldiers unaware that their target had already left the battlefield behind.
It wasn't until lights shattered far in the distance... windows bursting, glass raining down across entire streets... that the officer realized the truth.
"Cease fire!" he roared into the microphone. "Cease fire!"
His command was swallowed whole by the chaos.
Alex moved through the city like a phantom.
Buildings blurred past him as he followed nothing but scent and instinct, striking wherever the remnants of the organization hid. His existence itself was waning now, dangerously so. The crushing aura that once shattered glass and extinguished lights and life no longer spilled freely from his body.
No more accidental deaths, no more city-wide destruction. Only those unfortunate enough to directly block his path fell.
By the time the last member of the Selflaw was erased, Alex hovered on the edge of collapse. But one still remained: the main culprit.
Gravity reasserted itself and his body faltered midair, then dropped unsteadily to the ground. He staggered forward toward a building before him, blood dripping from tangled strands of hair, shoulders slumped.
His clothes were ragged, revealing most of his lean-built body.
A massive metal door stood before him.
Alex lowered his head, raised a leg, and kicked.
The door shook but held.
He kicked again. Still, it resisted.
On the third strike, the metal finally buckled inward with a tortured scream.
Alex stumbled inside like a corpse refusing to fall, arms hanging loose as though his bones had forgotten their purpose. Each step was labored, dragging.
He forced his head up slightly.
The milky building interior looked simple and empty, with a few scattered craters on the walls.
Curled wet hair obscured his vision, but he could still see the man seated a few meters away.
Muscular and relaxed.
A pistol rested casually in the man's hand, the same one used to end his father. Dragon tattoos coiled across both broad shoulders as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"I can't believe a being as pathetic as you caused such chaos in the city," the man said, amusement lacing his deep voice.
Alex opened his mouth, but no words came.
Only steam escaped, rolling from his lips as though his organs were burning from within.
"You don't need to say anything," the man continued, chuckling softly. "I'll send you to your lover and parents soon enough."
He paused, then laughed.
"You know who sent those soldiers after you?" His eyes gleamed wickedly. "The president. Your lover's father. He said you were a mentally challenged beast who slaughtered your own family... and his daughter.
It was just an excuse for him to cover the fact that the country's security under his administration is terrible."
The man leaned back, unfazed.
"I was terrified when you started rampaging like the beast he called you," he admitted. "But when I saw you weakening, I decided to stay. Don't take it personally. It's just politics... Your parents were only unfortunate casualties."
He raised the pistol and fired.
The bullet struck Alex squarely in the center of the forehead. His head snapped back violently as blood spilled from the wound.