Chapter 38: The Punishment Game
Hikigaya had to watch with regret as the only elderly gentleman in the room who looked capable of tutoring was taken away by Anne.
The other old men looked either vicious or sleazy; they failed the aesthetic test.
Just kidding, he wasn't here looking for a tutor.
It seemed this elderly gentleman named Best was the friend Anne had mentioned coming to pick up. Although she had previously said her friend was kidnapped and coerced, Hikigaya didn't think that was quite right.
He thought the old man was being fawned over.
Probably because he was Anne's friend.
Anne quickly left with Best, not sparing a glance at the others in the room.
Even if one wasn't a God Slayer, being hit with a nuclear bomb would still anger anyone with capabilities.
Super-Saints like those in the movies who shout, "With great power comes great responsibility," are targeted by state agencies, and constantly expected to "sacrifice" or "register"—Hikigaya had yet to see any in this world filled with magic.
In fact, the reason the name 'Yomi' is so notorious is precisely because they actively confront state agencies, rather than waiting for state agencies to provoke them before retaliating.
Yomi once had a long period of dormancy, during which the martial artists of Yomi not only refrained from clashing with the Living Fist but also did many good deeds, making them far friendlier to the general public than the magic societies.
Even the Demon God Fist was once called a hero in his own country—not a hero who just talked, but one who genuinely took the field and resisted the plundering of his motherland by Western nations.
Even now, protection missions still constitute the largest portion of Yomi's military contracts.
But even with such high restraint, Yomi still thoroughly frustrated those scandal-ridden politicians and wealthy, immoral scoundrels.
Yomi martial artists found no pleasure in bullying those without power, influence, or money.
Like the people in front of Hikigaya now.
"Sir, we can talk," an old man said.
He pretended to be calm, but his eyes betrayed him.
He was not calm at all; he was terrified.
"Who threw the nuclear bomb?" Hikigaya asked.
"This is a misunderstanding." Perhaps thinking he had a chance, the man's eyes immediately lit up, displaying the legendary expression of "everything is under my emotional intelligence suppression."
Hikigaya's response to such a mysterious believer in emotional intelligence supremacy was simple.
He stared at the old man, who immediately screamed.
He broke free from the chair's restraint, rolling on the ground and tearing at his own clothes, quickly drawing blood all over himself.
This vitality, which should not have appeared on his body, horrified the onlookers, as the old man's already meager frame rapidly shriveled. All the hair on his body fell out, and he turned into a monster.
"I really enjoy playing games," everyone then heard Hikigaya say. "The ghoul setting is pretty good."
As if to confirm this statement, the old man, who had already turned into a monster, let out a "hissing" sound, then suddenly leaped up, tackling the person closest to him, dragging him to a corner of the room, and tearing at him with a bite.
The spurting blood, the human screams, and the excited, satisfied roars of the monster caused almost everyone present to wet their pants; the color drained from most of their faces.
When the only remaining sound was chewing, Hikigaya sent a flash of fire to incinerate both the monster and the corpse into ash.
Hmm, that scene was a bit disgusting, so it was burned.
"Who threw the nuclear bomb?" he asked again.
This time, all eyes simultaneously turned to one person.
This person was the only one in the room who wasn't too old.
His hair was silver, and his muscles looked like they were about to burst out of his suit.
"Oh? I really didn't notice you." Hikigaya patted his forehead. "Look at my eyesight, I thought you were the attendant here the whole time."
The man's face instantly flushed deep red.
The preceding scene had made his face look terrible, but he was still much better off than the others. Coupled with his aggressive aura, Hikigaya naturally hadn't ignored him.
After all, this guy reeked of having personally killed people.
However, this person didn't seem to have much patience; a simple jab of ridicule made him look like he was about to explode.
"You piece of shit monster! I'm not afraid of you! Bring it on! America will not lose!"
He issued a declaration worthy of a hero.
Hikigaya couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Watched too many movies, haven't you?" he said, reaching out and grabbing the man, lifting him into the air and plastering him onto the ceiling.
Then, he stripped the skin off the man.
To be precise, Hikigaya first used wind to slice away his skin, then drained his blood.
The most powerful people in America, sitting in their chairs and paralyzed with fear, were directly drenched in blood—many felt like vomiting, but excessive fear prevented them from throwing up.
What terrified them the most was that despite all the blood that spilled, the man above their heads was still not dead.
Not only was he not dead, but he was being welded into the ceiling. Yet, he couldn't even scream. When he opened his mouth, the sound that came out was not a voice, but the sound of wind blowing fire. Only sparks and high-temperature airflow could escape his lips.
The sizzling welding sound and the hot air constantly blasting downward made the people still sitting in their chairs desperately wish they would pass out immediately.
"Alright, the nuclear bomb problem is solved." Hikigaya clapped his hands, signaling to these people to focus on the meeting and not look down at their phones. "Next, let's discuss serious business. I assume you don't want to turn into monsters, nor do you want to become living, timeless decorations."
"Respected Sir..." The tone of the person who spoke this time sounded much more agreeable to Hikigaya, though his speaking seemed very difficult because blood was constantly streaming down his face and flowing into his mouth whenever he spoke.
But he insisted on trying to finish.
"We are willing to do anything to please you, anything, anyone, as long as America can provide it... We beg you... for mercy..."
He could barely continue...
So Hikigaya interrupted him.
Killing them all was never the best form of punishment.
Hikigaya never felt that he, possessing the power of life, could only resort to such a low-level method.
Slaughtering them, making living specimens, and then allowing the rest to live in perpetual terror, unable to die even if they wished—that barely qualified as cruelty.
Look at Zeus's routine for punishing people; he was truly the Emperor of Variety, rarely resorting to outright killing.
In many cases, death is release, not punishment.
However, Hikigaya was a Demon King, not a jailer.
"Very good. I have always thought that death is a blessing, but unfortunately, you have missed that opportunity," Hikigaya stated. He walked a circle around the group. With every person he passed, that person's heart would stop beating. "So, no matter how painful, no matter what hardship you suffer, you, like our friend up there, cannot die."
Seeing everyone frantically clutching their chests, trying to feel their heartbeats, Hikigaya smiled.
"Of course, you are not alive starting now either. You will watch your bodies rot away little by little, but even when only bones are left, you still cannot die. But... since you want to please me."
Walking back to his original spot, Hikigaya spread his arms toward the group of living dead with faces full of despair. "I'll give you a chance."
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