But before they could open their mouths again, before they could try to leverage their previous acquaintance into preferential treatment, the two larger women at the front rolled their eyes in disgust and shoved past Natasha.
Their heavy boots thudded against the floorboards as they pushed the door open wider, forcing entry through sheer aggressive momentum.
"Enough with the small talk. Hand over your food and water," one of them shouted, raising her makeshift weapon threateningly. "Do it now, or we won't be so polite next time."
They didn't even get to finish the sentence.
SHNK!
A sound like air being sliced apart flashed through the narrow room—no visible weapon, no warning, just that distinctive cutting noise that spoke of space itself being divided.
The two women froze mid-step, their aggressive postures suddenly locked in place.
For half a second, everything went still—time seeming to pause—and then their heads slid cleanly from their shoulders, separating at the neck with surgical precision. The severed heads spun through the air in slow motion before landing on the linoleum floor with dull thuds.
"Ahhh!"
"Their heads— their heads just—!"
The screams tore through the room, raw and primal.
Jenna's voice cracked as she clutched Elric's arm harder, her nails drawing blood through his sleeve. The two male teachers stumbled backward, tripping over themselves, faces drained of all color.
But the horror didn't stop there. Didn't end with simple decapitation.
The heads on the floor didn't stop screaming.
Their mouths continued moving in perfect sync with the shrieks echoing from the severed heads. Eyes wide and terrified, expressions of pure panic frozen on their faces.
It was wrong—completely, fundamentally wrong in a way that violated every natural law. No blood spilling from the necks. No pain-wracked expressions. Just heads… alive and terrified, separated from bodies that remained standing for another second before collapsing.
The two men tried to bolt, survival instinct overriding everything else.
They didn't make it three steps before another invisible slash of energy carved the air—CRACK!—and both their legs hit the floor separately from their bodies, severed at the knees with that same surgical precision.
Yet still no blood spilled. No arterial spray. No pain response.
Just paralyzed shock as they fell, their minds struggling to process the fact that they could still feel their legs lying several feet away.
"What… what the hell…" one of them stammered, his voice barely functional.
Elric finally stepped out from the back room, calm as ever, a half-filled bowl of water still in his hand from drinking. He moved with casual confidence, as if he'd just swatted mosquitoes rather than dismembered four people.
He squatted down near one of the disembodied heads, studying it like a curious scientist examining an interesting specimen. A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"This technique really is useful," he said quietly, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "Precise. Clean. No blood, no mess."
He tilted his head toward the terrified faces staring up at him from the floor.
"You two wanted to rob my place… and you laid hands on my woman?"
Elric's tone dropped, cold enough to chill the air despite the apartment's warmth.
"That's why you're like this."
He turned his gaze to the decapitated women, whose eyes were rolling wildly in panic.
"Who sent you?" he asked, his voice conversational. "And think carefully before lying. Because if you do—"
He made a tiny slicing motion with two fingers in the air.
A hairline crack appeared across one of the women's cheeks, a perfect surgical cut that would have bled profusely if not for his ability. She screamed anyway, the psychological horror overwhelming.
"N-no! We'll talk! Please don't cut us again!"
The first one gulped, her severed throat somehow still moving to swallow. "It was— it was Zao. The building administrator. He's the one who sent us out to scavenge."
"Henrry?" Elric echoed, testing the name. "Middle-aged, short, scruffy beard?"
"Y-yeah. Lives on the top floor," the second one stammered, words tumbling out in desperation. "If we don't bring food back, he beats us with a pipe. We didn't want to— we had to do it! Please!"
Natasha stepped closer now, still pale from what she'd witnessed, still processing the casual brutality. But her voice was steady when she spoke.
"Elric… Henrry's the dorm supervisor. He's in his fifties. Before all this, he worked maintenance. Guess he's running the place now."
She couldn't help but glance at the decapitated bodies again, at the impossible scene of people separated but still alive.
Horrifying—and yet… she felt a strange thrill in her chest. A dark excitement.
Her man wasn't just a survivor. He was something else entirely.
A calm monster with power no one else in this dead city could match.
Elric rose to his feet, brushing imaginary dust from his hands with deliberate casualness.
"So a washed-up janitor thinks he's a warlord now?"
He let out a soft, mocking laugh that was somehow more frightening than any scream.
"I guess it's time someone paid him a visit."
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