After laughing, Hatred's face once again twisted into a ferocious sneer, the shrill screams of his victim providing his distorted soul an unprecedented sense of comfort.
He then controlled his steps and twisted forcefully, spinning around the blade that was plunged into the captain's head. The sound of flesh being torn apart resounded, making one's teeth feel sour.
When he lifted his foot again, the sharp end was already covered in fresh blood, the viscous fluid sliding down the grooves on his foot.
The dense smell of blood permeated the entire scene. At that moment, the sound of helicopter rotors seemed to echo from the sky outside, indicating someone was passing by, but it was uncertain who.
However, Hatred didn't care. He was solely focused on killing those who dared to offend him. His gaze turned to the others, and he coldly said,
"Next, it's your turn!"
