>>24124619I’d love to erase Clavicular from existence with one contemptuous stroke.
Just unsheathe my heirloom zweihänder, the blade my ancestors used to cleave armored knights in half, step forward with deliberate calm, and swing with every ounce of hatred forged across generations, catching that roided, peptide-bloated faggot clean through his photoshopped midsection.
His upper body separates instantly, ribs cracking like dry twigs, spine severed with a wet pop, abs flexing one final useless time as gallons of hot blood and steroid-thick plasma gush out in a crimson fountain.
The torso sails ten feet through the air, Pair of Thieves boxers still clinging to the twitching lower half that stands comically upright for a heartbeat before collapsing in a heap.
As he lies there in two pieces, organs spilling onto the concrete, lungs deflating like punctured balloons while he gurgles and claws weakly at the ground, those pretty hunter eyes wide with animal panic, jaw trembling as he tries to scream through a throat filling with his own blood, I stand over the dying halves and laugh a deep, guttural, triumphant laugh.
He stares up at me, begging without words for a quick end, for any shred of mercy from the man who just ended his entire genetic legacy in one swing.
He finds none.
I raise the dripping blade high above my head, pause just long enough for him to register what’s coming, then bring it down with earth-shattering force, smashing through his perfect skull like it’s made of porcelain, brain matter exploding outward in pink-gray chunks, facial bones pulverized into dust, hunter eyes bursting in their sockets.
Finally, silence.
Just a mangled, bisected corpse leaking its last on the floor, another fake natty fraud reduced to meat.
I wipe the blade on his ruined abs, spit on what’s left of his face, and walk away without looking back.
