Herman's actions were simple and direct—yet carried an overwhelming, brutal impact.
For the winged mutant, having his wings torn from his body was no different from being torn limb from limb. The agony cut straight to his soul.
"AAAHHH!!!"
The mutant screamed in torment. Blood poured from the torn stumps on his back as he howled and writhed helplessly in the sand.
"No! My angel wings! You can't do this to me!" he wailed miserably.
"Angel? Ha. You really think you deserve that title?"
Herman sneered, tossing aside the two massive, chicken-wing-like appendages.
The winged mutant desperately tried to reach for the discarded wings, but with Herman's foot pressing down on his back, he couldn't even touch the mangled remains.
After struggling futilely, he seemed to realize the truth—his wings were gone for good. Despair twisted his expression as hatred replaced pain, and he began cursing Herman through clenched teeth.
"I am the Lord's angel! How dare you do this to me! When the Lord awakens, he will cast your soul into hell to suffer for eternity!"
He roared his curse with manic conviction, knowing his own life was slipping away. Yet even in death, he clung to the delusion that Apocalypse would one day avenge him.
"Your Lord couldn't even save himself..." Herman said coldly. "...and you think he'll save you?"
With that, Herman stomped down. The mutant's skull burst like a watermelon, fragments of bone and brain matter spraying outward—only to stop midair, held back by Herman's telekinesis before they could stain him.
"Whether I'll go to hell someday, who knows. But your soul... will be the first to suffer there forever."
In Herman's eyes, a faint surge of dark energy flickered—an aura of death invisible to ordinary sight. He saw the terrified soul of the winged mutant being pulled from his lifeless body by an unseen force, dragged into his [Realm of the Dead].
In that realm, the mutant's soul would never find peace. It would suffer endlessly, its pain converted into power that nourished Herman.
The winged mutant could never have imagined that his vicious curse would turn him into the very fool he mocked.
Still, if one looked at it another way, at least he would now share the same fate as his beloved. In death, he'd be together with her forever—just like Sonic Girl and the strongman Charlie, both now nothing more than sustenance within the [Realm of the Dead].
"Now, it's your turn."
Herman looked toward the remaining mutants. Terrified by what they'd witnessed, all trace of arrogance had vanished from their faces.
Charlie, the "angel," the sonic woman—each of them strong in their own right—had all been killed in an instant by this terrifying man.
Under Herman's gaze, the survivors felt as though the air itself had frozen. Everything around them seemed surreal, dreamlike, impossible.
None of them could understand it.
How had they managed to run into such a monster in the middle of the desert?
"You're one of us! Why attack your own kind?!" shouted a mutant covered in sharp spines, his voice trembling with fear and disbelief.
The next instant—
As Herman's gaze fell on him, the spined mutant's head exploded like a bloody melon, scattering gore across the sand.
"I don't just hate bird people," Herman said calmly. "I hate liars too. You attacked us first—so tell me, how exactly is this my fault?"
He watched indifferently as the hedgehog mutant's soul was drawn into the [Realm of the Dead].
"Oh my God!"
Evelyn was pale as snow, her face drained of color.
The scene was so horrific she instinctively dove behind the two camels, crouching low to hide. But after a few moments—perhaps out of morbid curiosity—she peeked out again, her head poking from behind the camels like a groundhog.
A very pretty groundhog.
"Friend… let's not do this. Maybe we can talk?" one of the remaining mutants stammered, his hands trembling as he raised them in surrender.
The rest followed, equally terrified, all raising their hands in the same desperate gesture.
It wasn't that they lacked courage.
It was that they'd finally realized they were completely out of their depth.
To them, Herman wasn't just strong—he was a walking nightmare. His strange, unpredictable powers and merciless execution had left no room for resistance.
Given the situation—after watching every capable fighter die one by one—surrendering seemed like the only rational choice.
"For the offense we've caused you and your companion, we're willing to offer compensation. As fellow kin, we beg you to forgive our ignorance and disrespect."
The pipe-smoking mutant's pipe had long since fallen to the ground. After realizing his psychic powers had no effect on Herman, he decisively chose to surrender. Bowing his head low, he spoke in a deep, trembling voice full of forced humility.
"Gold. We can pay you in gold—an enormous amount of it."
He had completely mistaken Herman for a powerful mutant, and even more foolishly assumed that Herman and Evelyn had come to the desert to hunt for treasure. In his mind, they were simply mutant gold prospectors—just stronger and stranger than most.
"That's right, we can give you gold. Lots of it! We're all brothers, aren't we…" the other mutants chimed in hurriedly, trying to sound sincere.
They even tried to play the "brotherhood" card. It was almost laughable—these fools clearly had no grasp of the situation.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A string of sharp cracks echoed through the air.
One after another, the mutants collapsed lifelessly to the ground. They had believed gold could sway Herman, but even in death, they never understood how foolish that thought was—or how mercilessly decisive he could be.
Though their powers were weak and their souls frail, they still served a purpose. For Herman's currently barren [Realm of the Dead], they were better than nothing. A mosquito may be small, but it's still meat—and these mutant souls were certainly stronger than those of ordinary humans.
Perhaps, if he harvested enough of them, the accumulation could lead to something greater—just as the powers of Apocalypse himself had once evolved from quantity into quality.
Of course, the change his soul energy brought about wouldn't be as hollow as Apocalypse's so-called "evolution."
All souls generated the same type of energy within the [Realm of the Dead]; the difference lay only in the "production rate." The stronger the soul, the greater the output.
"Sorry," Herman said casually, glancing at the bodies scattered across the sand. "I'm not like you. And I really don't enjoy listening to people's last words."
His eyes gleamed with a swirling black aura of death as he watched the spirits of the fallen fade into his [Realm of the Dead]. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he turned toward the only survivor—the pipe mutant, the one with psychic powers who had created the "mental link" among the others.
"But I do have plenty of time to listen to your pleas for mercy… after you're dead."
The pipe mutant shuddered violently under Herman's gaze. Terror coursed through his soul, and he dropped to his knees.
"Spare me! Please—spare me!" he begged, his voice cracking.
His ability was also psychic, which was likely why Herman's earlier "group strike" hadn't blown his head apart. Not because Herman lacked the power—but because he simply hadn't bothered to focus the attack on him.
"Tell me," Herman said softly, lifting a hand and curling one finger in a beckoning motion, "will your god Apocalypse come to save his faithful servant?"
Then—
Under the invisible pull of Herman's telekinesis, the pipe mutant's body rose helplessly into the air, limbs locked in place, completely immobilized.
"I bet he's not coming to save you. What do you think?" Herman's tone was calm and unhurried, his gaze steady as he looked at the pipe mutant suspended helplessly in midair.
"Don't kill me! I can serve you—I'll be your slave, your follower! I can be useful, I own several companies outside!"
The pipe mutant no longer cared to question why Herman, like the so-called true god he worshipped, wielded such terrifying and godlike power. He knew Apocalypse had yet to awaken. No one would save him. All he could do was beg—pathetically, desperately.
"Become my servant?" Herman smiled faintly. "Sorry, but you're not qualified."
A crisp crack followed.
The pipe mutant's neck twisted under invisible force. His once-tense body went limp, head drooping forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
His soul, too, was drawn into the [Realm of the Dead].
In just moments, the entire group of Apocalypse's mutant followers lay dead. Far in the distance, the construction crew—who had long since noticed the chaos—were now scattering in panic, fleeing into the endless dunes like startled animals.
They ran fast, but Herman made no move to stop them. He had no interest in needless slaughter—most of those workers were ordinary people, victims of brainwashing rather than conviction.
"How long do you plan on hiding back there?"
Having dealt with the lackeys, Herman circled the camel several times before finally spotting Evelyn, who was crouched behind it, trying to crawl away from him.
"I… you… Oh my god! You killed so many people!" Evelyn's voice trembled. Having lived her whole life in a civilized society, she could hardly process what she'd just witnessed. Fear and disbelief flickered in her wide eyes.
"This was self-defense," Herman said, completely calm. "They attacked first. I simply responded. Don't you know the law?"
He had already changed into a clean outfit using the [Instant Outfit Change] reward from his old [Fashion Guru] identity.
"But…" Evelyn wanted to protest, but after a few seconds of thought, she realized she couldn't find any argument against him. Those men had clearly come to kill them. In truth, Herman's merciless counterattack had only given them what they deserved.
Killers should always be prepared to be killed in return.
"You've definitely killed people before," Evelyn said with conviction. The cold efficiency in Herman's movements had left a deep, unsettling impression on her.
"I'm a peaceful person," Herman replied evenly. "I don't go looking for trouble. But if someone tries to kill me… I make sure they don't get a second chance."
His words didn't sound like a lie.
Evelyn stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking again. "So, are you going in to see that ancient mutant or not? Don't say I didn't warn you—there are countless lost records of ancient Egypt inside."
Herman's lips curved faintly.
"Lost history, huh?" he said, walking toward the half-excavated pyramid.
The mention of lost Egyptian history immediately caught Evelyn's attention. All her earlier hesitation vanished in an instant.
"Wait! Hey, slow down! What kind of lost history are you talking about?"
Evelyn scrambled to her feet, stumbling as she hurried after him. Her legs still felt weak, but her excitement overrode her fear.
For someone like her, anything involving the lost history of ancient Egypt was irresistible. She half-ran, half-crawled until she caught up with him.
"You really don't know how to focus," Herman said lightly. "Compared to history that's already written, isn't a living ancient mutant far more valuable?"
He stopped before the pyramid. Its massive stone entrance had already been pried open. Without hesitation, Herman stepped into the pitch-black interior.
Evelyn hesitated for only a moment before following, her heart pounding with both fear and anticipation.
The interior of the pyramid, sealed beneath the sands for thousands of years, left even a seasoned Egyptologist like her breathless with awe.
And deep within—
As Herman and Evelyn crossed the threshold, a group who had entered the pyramid ahead of them was already at its heart, performing a strange and ominous ritual.
...
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