And the marks that appeared on those wounds—just one look was enough to make Sergio tense up instantly, raising goosebumps.
A name was branded there with a hot iron.
—Chris Sewell.
At the very bottom of the paper, there were words in the print that called him "the best executioner," which sounded like a desperate yet grand official propaganda slogan.
Suddenly, he felt nauseous, squatted down, and vomited.
After a brief respite, Sergio, suppressing his discomfort, grabbed the drawing paper and tore it to shreds, his face contorted in extreme pain as he roared like a demon.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
"Who the hell are you! Who are you! How do you know?!"
"You motherfucker... what the hell are you...?"
He finally lost his temper and kicked the mute girl in the head. She flew backward and crashed heavily into the wall, blood gushing out from the back of her head.
There is no human being more wicked than him, no being more vile than him.
"You despicable person who has committed countless evil deeds."
"Enough, enough... Damn it! Stop fucking blaming me!"
"I've already done it, I've fucking done those things! I did it willingly, I just wanted to!"
The mute girl crawled over, crying, ignoring the blood that kept flowing down her face. She knelt on the ground and groped her way to put the drawing back together.
At that moment, Sergio seemed to be struck by something extremely dangerous, and he instantly collapsed to the ground, vomiting a large pool of black blood.
But not long after, he struggled to his feet, stepped forward, grabbed her collar, and lifted her into the air.
“You…don’t resemble Chris at all.”
"So what if it is?"
"In this world... yes, there is a need for naive fools like you to make sacrifices."
"I am that kind of extremely evil person."
"I will never... repent."
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