The sword swept across the man's neck. Its pristine blade sliced into his flesh as if it were made of butter. A single stroke sent his head flying through the air.
It spun, spraying blood across the room before hitting the ground with a sharp 'thud'.
The ground began to stain red.
Bystanders, failing to grasp exactly what had just occurred, stopped their work. Silence descended upon the scene. Ethan, his expression unchanging, stepped forward, trampling over the filthy corpse.
His feet, now stained crimson, left bloody prints on the ground.
The slaves stared at Ethan as if he were a madman. Yet, deep down, they sensed a hero—someone who might save them from their suffering. But in Ethan's mind, these slaves were nothing more than trash.
Friends? He didn't really have any.
He hadn't made enemies simply because he wanted to avoid trouble—that was all.
The slaves who viewed Ethan as a hero were deluding themselves. Ethan cared only about himself and his own freedom.
After a long silence, the guards finally realized what was happening.
"He took off Gaspar's head!"
"He just cut his head off!"
"Attack! Attack! Don't let him keep this up!"
The guards began to shout. They charged with their swords toward Ethan, who viewed them as mere cockroaches. To his eyes, the men moved in slow motion, even though his stats hadn't actually increased that much.
Without a hint of a smile, Ethan swung his sword.
Within seconds, another head flew through the air, landing at the feet of one of the slaves.
The slave looked down at the head and smiled. Then, he grabbed it by the hair and stared directly into its eyes. After staring into those lifeless eyes for a moment, he glanced at Ethan, who was moving skillfully, dodging four swords at once.
He shouted as he hurled the severed head toward the guards. "Grab your swords—even the unfinished ones! Back Ethan up!"
Seeing this as their only chance to escape, some slaves grabbed their unfinished swords and joined the fight. However, many others, paralyzed by fear, simply backed away.
Slaves began to fall, one after another.
"Stay out of our way!"
Even though the guards were focused on Ethan, the slaves still couldn't accomplish much.
Ethan watched the slaves being easily cut down and thought, 'Idiots.'
He decided to take things a bit more seriously. Moving nimbly to dodge the incoming blades, he drove his sword up under a guard's chin.
The man died instantly.
Next, he kicked a nearby guard and spun around, slicing off another's head.
Ethan moved with such grace that he looked like a experienced adventurer. Yet, in reality, he was just a novice; even he couldn't quite fathom how he was moving like that.
Perhaps his superior stats compared to the guards were giving him a significant edge.
The slaughter continued.
The forge floor was stained red as the number of standing guards and slaves dwindled.
Before long, only the guards, Ethan, and the slaves who had chosen to stay put remained standing.
But not for long.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Heads kept rolling one after another, and the room grew increasingly silent.
Then, the last head flew off.
Ethan moved quickly and grabbed the head by the hair. He looked at the man's tear-filled eyes and reflected.
'I've really changed a lot in just a few days.'
Even coming from a world where this wasn't normal.
Even without ever having killed anyone.
Even without ever having seen so much blood.
Even without ever having seen a dead body.
None of what was happening affected him in the slightest.
The remaining slaves stared at Ethan—who was walking over the bodies scattered across the floor—as if he were a monster, but he didn't care.
Before leaving the forge, Ethan said, "You should take this opportunity to try and escape. But let me make one thing clear: don't count on me for anything. I won't care if you die."
After saying this, Ethan walked down the corridor toward the door he believed to be the exit.
####
When Ethan approached the door, no one was there to guard it.
"It's locked," he said aloud before kicking the door open with all his might. Once the door gave way, Ethan began to hear voices and footsteps coming from the rear. More guards were appearing.
He didn't stop to fight; he simply started running.
He sprinted down the large hallway and turned into a few other corridors.
As he ran, he glanced out the windows and caught sight of sunlight and buildings outside. Everything looked dilapidated, though. After running for a while, he finally ran into some members of the Alecto Familia.
They appeared to be stronger.
Ethan didn't flinch and kept running.
He rushed past the first man, slashing at his waist; he dodged the second man's sword and then dealt a deep gash to the third man's back. Without looking back, he kept running until he found a staircase.
As he pressed on, the building grew increasingly dilapidated, and more Familia members appeared.
Fortunately, they were all Level 1 or, at most, Level 2 members—Alecto Familia members with no combat experience.
More bodies piled up in his path.
The corridors were being stained with blood.
Ethan lost count of how many lives he had taken. In truth, he didn't care.
Then, he finally reached what looked like the exit.
However, the moment he opened the door leading outside, Ethan found himself facing a dark, filthy alley. He looked up and saw old, unfinished buildings on all sides.
Ethan maintained a stoic expression and started running, not knowing where he was headed.
He just wanted to get far enough away to feel safe.
As he ran, Ethan thought to himself:
'That place isn't the Alecto Familia's main headquarters.'