The old woman rushed into the room, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the sight of her husband's mutilated body lying on the floor, blood pooling around him. She clutched a shotgun in trembling hands, her knuckles white as she raised it toward Neato.
"You monster! What did you do to my husband?" she screamed, her voice cracking with rage and fear.
Neato, his transformed figure casting a dark, menacing shadow across the room, turned his sightless gaze toward her. His lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. As the woman's finger tightened on the trigger, Neato's thin, blackened tail lashed out with lightning speed.
Before she could fire, the tail whipped through the air, slicing cleanly through both of her arms. The shotgun clattered to the floor, and the old woman staggered back, screaming in agony as blood spurted from the stumps where her hands had once been.
Neato began to walk toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, the sound of his bare feet slapping against the blood-slick floor echoing through the room. His smile widened as he watched her scramble backward, her eyes wide with terror.
"Please… no… please!" she begged, her voice trembling as she turned and bolted out of the room, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.
Neato followed her, his movements unhurried, savoring the fear that radiated off her like a palpable force. He watched her reach the stairs, stumbling up them in her desperation, blood splattering against the walls as she climbed higher and higher.
A deep, sinister laugh bubbled up from Neato's throat as he leisurely ascended the stairs after her, each step reverberating like a drumbeat in the old house. The woman reached the top of the stairs, bursting through the door at the end and into the night air.
She glanced back, a sob of relief escaping her lips as she saw the space between her and Neato. But when she turned to look ahead, her blood ran cold. Neato was standing right in front of her, his smile now a wide, manic grin.
"How did you—?" she began, but her words were cut short as Neato's tail shot forward, slicing her face cleanly in half. The woman's body crumpled to the ground, her life extinguished in an instant.
Neato stood over her corpse, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air was filled with the metallic scent of blood, and a deep, guttural roar erupted from his throat, echoing through the night like the call of a beast.
As the echoes of his roar faded into the distance, Neato began to walk again, his steps driven by an unknown force, as if he were being drawn toward something—or someone.
"People often believe this is the story of a hero, a tale of righteousness and valor. But in reality, this is the story of Neato—the harbinger of darkness, the embodiment of fear, the one who walks the path of the damned."
With that, Neato disappeared into the night, his figure melting into the shadows as he continued on his path, leaving behind nothing but death and despair in his wake.
END OF CHAPTER 36