Paul raised his head and looked ahead.
The two-story stone building had come into view.
Compared to the squat shanties surrounding it, this building—constructed from neat stone blocks and coated with a layer of white lime—looked like a goddamn palace.
Paul walked up to the iron-reinforced wooden door. It looked fairly sturdy.
He raised his right foot.
The servo-motors in the leg of his Power Armor engaged at maximum capacity. The hydraulic system compressed to its absolute limit, and then—
BOOM!!!
The entire door, along with the doorframe and a chunk of the surrounding wall, exploded inward from the kick!
Wood splinters, stone fragments, and twisted iron rained across the room, kicking up a thick cloud of dust!
The scene behind the door was revealed.
Inside the grand hall, over twenty gunmen stood ready.
They wore a hodgepodge of clothing, but their weapons were relatively high-end: lasguns, combat shotguns, and even two automatic weapons modified from heavy stubbers.
Seeing the door violently blown open, the gunmen pulled their triggers almost entirely on instinct!
"Open fire!!!"
A torrential storm of bullets and laser beams poured toward the entrance!
Paul stood in the doorway, making no attempt to dodge or take cover.
A psychic barrier expanded in front of him.
As the bullets pierced the barrier, their velocity plummeted drastically, eventually clattering harmlessly to the floor.
The laser beams refracted and scattered across the surface of the barrier, burning scorched black holes into the walls and ceiling.
He wasn't in a rush to attack. Instead, he slowly stepped into the hall.
One step. Two steps.
The gunmen's fire grew even more frantic, but every single attack was rendered entirely useless against the psychic barrier.
Finally, one of the gunmen broke.
"Monster! He's a monster!!!"
The man dropped his gun and turned to run.
Paul moved.
He drew the Chainsword from his hip and pressed the activation stud with his thumb.
VRRRMMMM!!!
The roaring of the furiously spinning teeth instantly drowned out the gunfire!
Paul's figure blurred into a dark grey afterimage.
The Type-III Neural Reflex Enhancement, combined with the superhuman physiology of an Astartes, pushed his speed far beyond the limit of mortal perception!
The first strike was a horizontal sweep.
Three gunmen standing side-by-side were cleanly bisected at the waist.
Amplified by the Chainsword's power field, the monomolecular edge was completely unstoppable. Slicing through flesh, bone, and even the solid wood table behind them was as effortless as cutting through tofu.
The second strike was a diagonal cleave.
A gunman attempting a point-blank shotgun blast was split diagonally in half, weapon and all.
Blood and organs splashed across the wall, painting a grotesque, macabre mural.
The third strike, the fourth...
Paul didn't use any flashy swordsmanship. Just the most fundamental slashes, cleaves, and thrusts.
But backed by absolute power and speed, every single strike guaranteed the taking of one or more lives.
One gunman tried to flank him, aiming for the weaker joints of the Power Armor. Paul didn't even turn his head. A backhand punch with his left fist smashed directly into the man's face.
With the strength of an Astartes and the weight of the Power Armor behind it, the man's head exploded like a water balloon.
Seven seconds.
From the moment Paul stepped into the hall until the final gunman fell, it took exactly seven seconds.
Twenty-three gunmen, completely wiped out.
The floor was dyed red with blood. Severed limbs and shattered bodies were scattered everywhere.
The heavy stench of blood mixed with the smell of gunpowder, filling the entire hall.
Paul powered down the Chainsword, the teeth slowly grinding to a halt. He flicked the blood off the blade and cast his gaze toward the far end of the hall.
There sat a massive leather sofa. Crouched behind it, a tall, skinny, middle-aged man was desperately trying to hide himself.
The man wore a relatively sharp, dark blue uniform, with the Aru Group's gear-and-vial emblem pinned to his chest.
His face was deathly pale, his entire body trembling violently. A massive wet patch stained his crotch—he had literally pissed himself in terror.
Paul walked over, the boots of his Power Armor squelching through the pools of blood.
He stopped in front of the sofa, looking down at the man.
"Consul Harman?"
"I... I..."
Harman finally squeezed out a few words. "I am the Consul of Red Town, appointed by the Aru Group!"
"This... this is an armed rebellion! The Group won't let... you..."
Paul ignored him.
He extended his left hand, hovering it directly over Harman's head.
Wisdom trait, activated.
Sensing the weight of his sins.
In Paul's psychic vision, Harman's body began to emit a dark red glow.
Within that glow, countless fragmented images surfaced:
An old man kneeling on the ground, begging, only to be kicked to death by Harman...
A family of five dragged into the basement of a stone house. The father beaten to death on the spot. The mother and two daughters gang-raped, then sold to a passing slaver caravan...
John from the east side of town, tied to a post in the plaza and burned alive by the sun because he couldn't pay the sanitation tax...
The images kept coming.
And they got darker.
A secret room hidden beneath the stone house. Inside, there were... pieces of human meat.
Some were salted. Some were air-dried. Some were still fresh.
Harman sitting at the head of a long table, raising a glass with his cronies.
"You actually cannibalize your own kind?"
Paul withdrew his hand, his voice like ice.
The players behind him heard the words and drew a sharp collective breath.
"The number of people who died directly by your hand exceeds three hundred."
Paul glared at Harman. His augmented eyes, capable of seeing perfectly in the dark, were now burning with a freezing rage. "The number who died indirectly because of you is uncountable."
"You extorted, robbed, raped, murdered, trafficked slaves..."
With every word he spoke, Harman's face grew a shade whiter.
"And finally, you cannibalized your own kind."
"Consul Harman."