"Hahaha!"
Mister's laughter was a wet, rattling sound that seemed to bubble up from the very depths of his throat.
He reached down, his meaty, grease-slicked fingers wrapping around Seijirou's wrist. "Ah, how wonderful. Such firm meat, I wonder how this would taste. Is it as good as an infant?"
Seijirou felt his whole body shiver in disgust, his arm was still buried elbow-deep into Mister's chest, a strike that should have pulverized the heart of any living creature.
Yet, aside from the blood he coughed up, there was no spray of arterial blood—only the slow, rhythmic oozing of a black, tar-like substance.
"Honestly, this is the first time I have been injured like this," Mister wheezed, his eyes bulging with a manic, ecstatic light. "Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt as much as I thought. It's almost... refreshing! Truly a sting from a 'hero' trying to save a world that's already rotting!"
