He waited outside of the warehouse for a while until Romuel arrived with a suitcase in hand, inside was his custom-made suit.
"Here is boss, its heavier than I imagine even though its only clothes."
"Thanks, you don't have to accompany me there if you feel bad, it is going to be bad, just get me to the location and then you can leave."
"Yes, thanks, I-I really don't want to see blood."
Nodding, he turned around and entered the warehouse, despite the name it was more of a simple house that used to be abandoned, after he took it, he just changed the locks and put some planks on the windows and has been using it to store cloths that he might find useful since then.
Putting his change of clothes and bandages, he prepared to go out, now wearing a simple white shirt, a long dark grey trench coat tied with a leather belt, black lose pants and comfortable leather boots.
In his head a dark grey peaked cap sat, at the sides of it cloth hang reaching to inside the trench coat covering his back and sides hiding his hair, on his front a bandage covering his mouth, nose, and forehead.
This was something he designed to be practical to the best of his abilities, as technology was too behind so he could still not get a proper gas mask and eye protection.
In a hidden pocket inside of his trench coat was what he had hidden in this place, a fully functional 38m revolver.
What better place to hide a piece of technology and weaponry that can shoot a piece of metal at supersonic speeds than hiding inside a cloth warehouse.
He prepared himself mentally, this was going to be the first time that in this life that he was going to take a position of command and probably kill someone. For someone that looked like a fifteen-year-old while being younger than that, his appearance and his aura had a sharp contrast.
In his past life he was guided by a single-minded determination up to the end of his life that made him able to do some of the worse things in history on occasions and miracles in others.
In this life he was doing things half-heartedly, or so he imagines, with all the things that he had already done and others that he planned it could be argued otherwise. But he didn't think so, his mind still had trouble seeing the humans in this world at the same value as those of earth.
Clearing his mind he finally walked out, looking at him Romuel immediately seemed to have grown nervous seeing him.
"Good, be nervous, that means it is intimidating."
While he wanted it to be intimidating, he didn't want to reach the point of it looking like a World War two German officer despite there not being any bad associations with the design in this world, it was just bad taste in his opinion.
"Let us go, for today a great act must be made."
Turning, Romuel started to walk, behind him he follow, prepared to find everything he could out of this situation.
It was past sunset when they arrive at the perimeter that was set up, in actuality they hadn't walked that far, considering that he left the orphanage before sunset and now it had probably passed one and a half hours since then.
Getting close he saw two men sitting on the steps of a house keeping guard, wearing overalls, a jacket and boots they certainly gave the impression of having gotten out of a shift in a factory, at their sides a baton hanging.
When they saw him and Romuel arrive both men stood and straighten their backs, recognizing a superior and someone that they probably would not like to even know.
Standing in front of them he observed their appearance and uniforms, a question arose in his mind looking at them, so he simply asked without looking at anyone.
"Since when have the assault groups gotten a uniform? Considering their line of work, it seems weird that they get one."
He waited a few seconds for an answer, not receiving one he sighed in his mind, turning around he meets eyes with Romuel, rising a hand he dismissed him. Turning he started walking in the direction of the alchemist's hideout.
"One of you get me there."
Not stopping he commanded one of the guards, he could hear footsteps catching up to him and walking just behind him.
At that he stopped, turning his head, he send an unimpressed look at the guard that was following him instead of guiding him.
"…I said guide not to follow, what are you doing behind me? Get moving."
The guard gulped and took several long steps until he was in front of him, walking he follow him not without looking at Romuel one last time as he left.
He didn't care what he did after this, Romuel from what he has observed has low self-steam that along with his nervous personality and probable paranoia made him quite easy to read.
That was a little helpful and a pity, he was competent as an assistant but his unwillingness to raise his voice made him not be too important in his mind.
But considering how most people that he found interested ended up as, it could be seen as a blessing in disguise.
Walking through the streets he could see the amount of violence used by the assault teams was still at full effect.
Just turning a corner, he could see all of the buildings had their doors open or broken alongside the windows, some furniture was on the street, mostly broken drawers, and he could see at least three bodies strung across the street in the midst of everything.
He didn't even blink at this level of action, the assault teams were made to fight rival gangs or groups that prove to be too aggressive towards the syndicate or their members, so seeing an entire block sacked was not a surprise.
"How many people have been killed so far?"
"I think about quarter of the people living here? I'm not sure I was only told to guard the entrance that I was on, not anything else."
He kind of expected that, not having any means of communications other than those that needed human intervention to pass were always under reliable, it reminded him of his early days when his paranoia had made him only trust paper over a computer.
He got a small smile remembering that, a single person would always be ignored or forgotten were just a dozen controlled the entire planet.
Focusing back on the situation in front of him he started counting the number of houses to get an estimate of how many people lived here before his order.
As far as he could count in a single block there were around fifteen houses by face in each block so with some math, he could count a little less than one and a half thousand houses, with an average of two people for house, it meant that almost three thousand people.
If they were all killed it would be noticed by the authorities, despite it being a slum if what the grunt said was true then over a seven hundred people had already died.
Sure, for his standards that was not that impressive for a purge, but was still noteworthy by itself.
He could finally see more people, all of those that he saw were carrying bodies and putting them on carts, were they were piling them one over the other and covering them with a piece of cloth, already there were a few full carts being moved by mules.
He didn't know where they were going to drop them off and he didn't particularly care about it either way, the dead were already a lost cause, their mind and souls already lost.
Finally, after a time of walking a taking turns he arrived at the hideout of the alchemist or more precisely what was left of it.
The exterior was in good condition, a clear sign that the conflict happened only inside, something to be expected, and to be fair, it looked quite nice in his opinion, even he had to admit that he had a slight bias for architecture and colors.
The small building of two floors and around thirty square meters had a baroque design brick colored it had some plants growing around the wall, so it was a good contrast in his opinion.
Stepping in even with the bandages over his nose the smell of the blood still reached his nose. Scrunching his face a little he steeled his feeling of disgust and continued inside.
Quite easily he could see a dozen people on their knees with their hands and legs tied behind their backs. Around the room many more grunts were keeping an eye on those on their knees.
"Well, you all are a handful, aren't you?"
With his hands on his back, he started pacing in front of the prisoners, counting them there were twelve in different states and with different kind of injuries, as far as he could see only two were unharmed, he decided to keep an eye on them for that reason.
"I didn't expect my first time meting alchemist would be with heretics doing such dumb things as to be caught by a simple glass merchant."
He stared directly at the first person in line, a man probably in his late forties wearing a long purple robe that he found quite cliché, why do all evil or those aligned with it always use that color?
Doesn't matter, looking at the man for any injuries it seemed that his shoulder had a pretty big blood stain that still looked fresh, meaning that it wasn't treated yet.
Holding him by that shoulder and applying pressure, and as expected the man who acted tough immediately flinched and lowered himself.
"But I have to thank you all. After all, having heretics running amok is such a hassle."
Appling more pressure enough to make the heretic almost fell to the floor he turned his head to look at the other heretics that were looking at him, ignoring the whimpers of the one under him.
"Now, the only promise I can give is that if you cooperate your dead will be quick and the least painful out of anyone here."
Extending his hand towards a grunt and with a simple "A knife" he received what could pass as primitive scalpel. Cutting a few strands of hair just to check the edge of the thing he started talking again.
"I know what you will say, you already sold your soul, so it doesn't matter if you live or die you all are going to the same place in the end, but that's where you get wrong, your soul might leave your body, but what state your soul is when you die is another thing."
Standing from his position he started passing around once again checking all expressions and noticing the confusion even in his own men, smirking, even if not visible it could be noticed in his eyes his amusement.
"I have many arcane knowledge myself you see, and I know that the soul carries weight, and that changes with the memories and emotions."
Using the knife, he cut through the robe exposing the chest of the men where a mark of a black rhombus with another more detailed black rhombus inside itself. The mark of a heretic.
"I have read about this, once obtained it is impossible to remove, even if you cut out the part where it is it will reaper later. Scrap the upper part of the skin and it will still appear in the muscle."
He started cutting the mark of the men, as he tried to move backwards one of the grunts hold him in place, even with the hissing of pain from the knife cutting the dermis of the skin causing a light bleed and effectively cutting the mark on two.
"But going back to what I was saying, why do you think your cult seeks to cause pain and suffering? To torture the soul. A person dying in the most painful horrible way is what they consider a source of power, a tool, a puppet, a new toy, or a new mindless monster in their armies."
Standing straighter than ever before since being reborn and using a voice so emotionless, one that could and in fact did, ordered the dead of thousands, he spoke in a language none of them understood, effectively giving them a death sentence.
"I, by the power granted by the technocracy herby revoke your rights as human beings and sentence each of you to death by mental destruction."