The more Asher killed, the more the distance between him and them steadily closed. It was as though they could not see the corpses piling around them, as though the spreading carnage meant nothing at all. They advanced without hesitation, as if they were prepared to give their lives for the cause just as the father and son duo had done earlier, their loyalty bordering on fanaticism.
Although Asher did not know what inspired such blind devotion, what ideology or fear compelled them to risk their lives so readily, it did not matter to him in the slightest. Discovering the reason would change nothing. Sentiment held no value here. To him, this space would inevitably be turned into a river of blood, exactly as he had planned earlier, and no amount of loyalty or sacrifice would alter that outcome.
The next moment, Asher's speed slowed abruptly. His body seemed to lose its momentum mid-motion, as though an invisible hand had seized and suppressed it.
