Zack charged at the Pigman again. To the Pigman's pleasant surprise, he could clearly see the punch approach toward his face as he bent down to dodge it.
Before he could feel any elation, however, a metal-clad knee slammed into his face, and his head jerked back. The strike rattled his brain, leaving him disoriented. When he managed to focus, he realized Zack held him by the hair, his knees having given up on him.
"I'll give you another chance since you were already injured before our fight," Zack said, helping the Pigman steady himself. He patted him on the shoulder, then backed up two steps, adopting a boxer's stance.
For the first time in a long while, the Pigman felt an emotion other than hunger: fear. And he liked it—the taste of fear. He wanted more. He wanted to savor this foreign delicacy.
If he still had lips, anyone would say he was smiling. He took a boxing stance as well. He didn't know any martial arts; he was just a simple middle-aged man saved by his lord, and now it was time to devour this fear for him.
Noticing the change in the Pigman's demeanor, Zack's smile broadened. He gloated, "I always love fighting you swine."
Those were the last words the Pigman heard as Zack struck, decimating him—first his sight, then his hearing.
As he lay on the ground, his brain's grey matter exposed, still alive, still aware, still hungry, his only regret was: I couldn't hit him once, not a single punch.
Zack stood there with his arms folded. It was over. He knew it.
He then walked back, picked up his sword, and brought it to the half-dead corpse, unceremoniously stabbing it in the heart.
"Justice was served."
A faint hue rose from the Pigman's body and merged with Zack, restoring his previous strength,along with a negligible increase. This time, he wouldn't rise again—not even his god could save him.
"That was Boring" Zack said dissappointedly as he looked around at the cornfields, still gently swaying in the breeze. The clouds had cleared, revealing sparkling stars above. The house's roof was partially gone, and dead bodies littered the now-empty premises.
He knew he would have to wait a while for his lift and the cleanup crew to arrive.
So he went inside the house through the front gate, noticing a puddle of beer at gate nearby. Careful not to step in it, he walked through the kitchen. It wasn't shabby, but it wasn't impressive either. He entered and saw some leftover food, which he decided to eat. After that, he went to the room where the attack had taken place. Bodies lay scattered everywhere.
Three of them hadn't died from bullets but from a machete. "Haa!" he exhaled, glancing at the bodies briefly before losing interest and walking out. He went upstairs, entered another room, and approached a window overlooking distant city lights. He backed up and lay down on the bed, which creaked under his weight. He looked around until he noticed a photo on a table to the right of the bed.
He picked it up. The picture showed four people in front of this house, with the paint looking much fresher.
The man in the photo, with strong masculine features, held a woman by her waist, both smiling. They had two boys standing in front. The older boy held the younger by the neck, pulling him closer. The younger one was unmistakably the boy for whom Zack had served justice today.
Zack held onto the picture and laid it on his chest, thinking, The world is full of injustice. I'll make sure I eradicate every unjust person from this world. I promise you, Mother, he muttered under his breath before drifting off to sleep.
Somewhere in a deeply underground facility, a man in a military uniform and a woman in an all-black suit stood in front of a one-way glass.
On the other side of the glass lay Jesse, strapped down in white restraints on a bed, his face hollow and expressionless. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes void of any thought.
"How long ago did he wake up?" asked the woman, her tone neutral, almost disinterested.
"He woke up just about when we got here," replied the soldier. He hesitated but continued, "He hasn't uttered a word since and according to procedures we had him in restraints..I.. think we waited too long ma'am."
"That's for me to judge" the woman replied, dismissing his concerns. The soldier fell silent.
"What about the followers?" she inquired.
"our intel was correct; most of those masked people were part of that church, including the friends. All three have been confirmed to have ties with the church."
"What about the parents?"
"We don't know much about the mother, but the father was definitely a member; he joined a few years ago."
"Hmm. Keep investigating. I'm sure we'll dig up more." Then she asked, "Oh, is Zack back yet?"
"No, but he'll be here shortly," the soldier replied.
"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, why did you send that lunatic with us? Couldn't you have sent someone else?"
His question was met with silence, but after a moment, the woman replied, "It's because of his archon." She paused, as if debating whether to explain further, then added, "And the fact that he simply can't be defeated in a one-on-one,I couldn't bet on anyone else for this."