[Chapter 17: The Slaughter Continues]
The two drones vanished into the dim, bruised glow of twilight just as Iris moved. Her newly acquired Eldritch Zweihänder caught the fading light, its dark blade shimring with a turquoise ripple as she sliced through the periter fence. The heavy steel links parted like silk beneath a hot razor, falling away in silent, jagged segnts. She stepped through the gap without a second of hesitation, her body leaning forward as she broke imdiately into a predatory sprint.
The soft, rhythmic thrum of the drones magical cannons followed—quiet, clinical sounds in an even quieter evening. Searanox followed monts later, his boots crunching softly on the gravel as he slipped into one of the massive hangars that served as industrial barns.
It was a repeat of the first massacre.
Almost exactly.
He didn't bother with finesse. He reached out and grabbed the first solid wooden plank he could find—a heavy piece of framing lumber—testing its weight in his hand. Anything heavy enough to be used as a club would suffice. He took a breath, the scent of ammonia and feathers filling his lungs, and got to work.
The only real difference this ti was the visual feedback of the kill feed. In the upper corner of his vision, the numbers didn't just climb; they jumped violently. Massive incrents of numbers flashed across his retinas, white text blurring into a singular stream of death before vanishing again to make room for the next batch. He forced himself to ignore the statistics, focusing entirely on the visceral rhythm of the harvest.
Swing. Impact. Collapse. Repeat. The physical toll of the action was masked by the steady thrum of his Dhampir blood, which seed to sing with every life extinguished. Once the drones finished clearing the administrative wing and any human staff, they shifted to support him. They hovered near the rafters, sweeping the lengths of the barns with lethal precision until their tirs finally expired. One by one, the chanical units dissolved into blue sparks, vanishing into the ether.
The entire process took less than eight hours of relentless, manual labor. By the ti they stepped back out into the cool night air, they weren't just stained with blood; they were drenched in it.
─ Adult Human Lv.0 x6
─ Adult Chicken Lv.0 x122,648
─ Experience Gained: 6,132.7 Exp
Iris stood near the gated entrance, resting the massive length of the Zweihänder across her shoulder. The blade remained unnervingly pristine; despite the hundreds of lives it had claid, not a single speck of blood or a stray feather clung to its dark, eldritch surface. She, on the other hand, was a vision of primal carnage. Her charcoal fur was matted and heavy, the thick strands soaked through to a deep, glistening crimson that looked almost black under the moonlight.
The drive to the next location was conducted in absolute silence. The engine humd a steady, chanical low-note, broken only by the faint, dry rustle of blood-stiffened fabric shifting with every movent Searanox made behind the wheel. The car slled like a slaughterhouse, a thick, tallic scent that cloyed at the back of the throat.
"That shower was rather useless, Searanox," Iris purred, her tone carrying a edge of mild amusent.
"The point wasn't to clean my body," he replied flatly, his eyes fixed on the dark ribbon of the road. "It was to clean my thoughts. To reset the clock."
He looked down at his own reflection in the window. His pants and shoes were a darkened red-brown from the ankles to the knees, the fabric stiffening as the gore dried. Everything above that was decorated in uneven, spray-painted arcs of red. He drove straight on, the headlights carving lonely tunnels through the darkness. Exhaustion began to creep in, bone-deep and heavy—the inevitable crash that follows a sharp adrenaline spike. He glanced at Iris. Her amber eyes were fixed on the road ahead, her expression calm, focused, and utterly lethal. She was a warrior, and in this environnt, she was finally ho.
The next farm followed the sa grim pattern. His drones erased the night-shift staff before either of them even touched the barn floor. The slaughter began. The slaughter ended.
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However, the final farm did not go as planned.
The sun was already beginning to bleed over the horizon, painting the sky in pale pinks and oranges when they reached the periter. To maintain security, Searanox was forced to leave one drone on Overwatch, hovering high above the property to watch for intruders. This left him with only a single active unit for the cull. With only one drone summoned, his TP regeneration barely matched the upkeep. There was no margin for error.
A car pulled onto the property—an early-morning worker, likely. The drone didn't ask for permission. Its magic cannon fired, the beam punching straight through the vehicle's roof. The car went still instantly. Another human erased.
Then another vehicle arrived. Then a local police cruiser, likely responding to a silent alarm or a missed check-in call. Searanox hadn't had ti to program specific non-lethal restrictions. The drone fired again. Two clean, shots punched through the windshield. It resud its watch without a hint of hesitation.
Then, Searanox heard it. A low, distant, rhythmic hum. Every child of the modern era knew that sound. Everyone knew exactly where to look.
"God fucking dammit," he muttered, sprinting out of the barn and tilting his gaze skyward.
A helicopter.
`Can't it ever be simple?` He thought, his jaw aching with tension.
With a sharp ntal command, he updated the drone’s targeting paraters: `Shoot if it hovers or descends.` Then, he cupped his hands and shouted across the property, his voice echoing off the corrugated tal silos.
"Iris! Get your ass over here now! We are out of ti!"
There was no verbal response. Instead, a howl—sharp, fierce, and utterly blood-chilling—ripped through the morning air.
Acknowledged. He went back to work with frantic energy, crushing chickens left and right. He didn't dare summon another drone for the harvest; he needed the overwatch to stay active. A thousand kills were not worth risking a failed summon or an empty TP pool at the wrong mont. Above him, the helicopter circled once, a black, chanical predator surveying the carnage below. Its spotlight sliced through the morning mist, illuminating the blood-soaked yard.
He issued the command.
A single, brilliant crimson beam lanced upward from the hovering drone. There was no cinematic explosion. No fireball. The helicopter simply... died. The beam tore through the engine block, killing the power instantly. The rotors slowed, their high-pitched scream fading into a hollow, haunting whine before the aircraft dropped like a stone. It hit one of the storage buildings with a sickening, tallic crunch that shook the ground.
Silence followed. A deep, ringing silence that felt heavier than the noise. It was louder than the screams. He checked his status, the numbers glowing in the dark.
18,825.7 / 20,000 EXP
One more swing. Another chicken fell.
We are so close.
Iris erged from the barn, the Zweihänder resting on her shoulder. The blade was still impossibly clean.
"The helicopter is down," she said calmly, her voice a low rumble. "The System registered the kill as Helicopter Pilot Lv.0."
Her eyes flicked toward the smoking wreckage, where a small fire was beginning to lick at the twisted tal.
"We have at most ten minutes before a full response is mobilized," she warned. "Law enforcent. Possibly military."
"Stop standing around," Searanox snapped, his heart hamring against his ribs. "Kill everything you see. Five minutes. Then run to the car."
He didn't head for the birds. He sprinted toward the wreckage of the helicopter. He needed to know if the System rewarded this kind of destruction. He placed a hand against the hot, twisted tal and activated Salvage.
The helicopter glowed with a faint, pulsing blue light. For a mont, nothing happened, until a small, tallic box materialized on the ground in front of him. He grabbed it without looking and bolted for the car.
─ Searanox obtained "Salvage Cache: Helicopter" x1
Iris was already at the car when he arrived, her powerful legs having covered the distance in seconds. The engine roared to life. Tires scread as he floored it, tearing away from the property just as the sun cleared the horizon. He glanced at the final tally on his HUD.
─ Adult Human Lv.0 x9
─ Helicopter Pilot Lv.0 x1
─ Adult Chicken Lv.0 x92,818
─ Experience Gained: 4,641.4 Exp
A drone materialized in the air above the speeding car.
Kill everything left on that farm, he commanded it ntally.
The drone turned and flew back toward the slaughter, joining the other unit still at work within the nine-kiloter tether. Two kiloters down the road, Searanox finally slowed his heart rate.
"We stay within nine kiloters," he said, his voice raspy from the dust and the shouting. "The drones will finish most of the remaining targets as long as I’m in range. Once they are gone, we reposition, summon another batch, and hit one more farm if we have to. It should work."
He pulled onto a narrow, overgrown forest path, wiping his hand against the leather seat before manipulating the phone clamped beside the steering wheel.
"There is a small river ahead," he added, his eyes scanning the map. "We walk there, clean up, and wait for the heat to die down."
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