Descendant of Sloth
Chapter 92: Deadly Throw

Chapter 92: Deadly Throw

The auditorium hung heavy with a sudden, eerie quiet, the chaos of the fight fading into a tense stillness. Up on the railing, the two knights with guns stood frozen, their flashlight beams shaking slightly in the dark.

"Oye, what happened?" the first one said, his voice tight with unease. "Why’s it so silent all of a sudden? Did boss win?" He shifted his grip on the gun, peering down into the shadows below, his breath fogging in the cool air.

"I don’t know, man," the second knight replied, nudging him hard by the shoulder. "We need to check it out—something’s off." His voice wavered, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Wait," the first one hissed, grabbing his arm. "Let’s go down slow and see what’s up. Could be a trick or something." His eyes darted around, the gun trembling in his hands as they started walking down the steps, their boots tapping lightly on the metal.

Down on the ground, the crowd was a shivering mess, huddled together near the elevator doors.

Their phone lights flickered, weak and unsteady. Then one caught me—standing tall, my mask dark against the blood-smeared wall in front of me.

Ham’s body slumped at my feet, his throat torn open, blood pooling around him in a thick, dark puddle. The light lingered, and the silence broke.

"God! Ham’s dead!" a man yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "He killed him!" a woman shrieked, clutching at the person next to her. "Someone save us!" another cried, pounding on the elevator doors with shaky fists. "There’s a monster here!" a guy shouted, his light dropping as he stumbled back into the crowd.

The panic exploded—screams, sobs, people shoving and pulling at each other, desperate to get away from me.

"We’re gonna die!" a woman wailed, her voice breaking as she tripped over a chair. "He’s coming for us next!" a man bellowed, slamming his shoulder against the locked exit.

The slaves, though, stayed quiet. They lined the edges of the room, their shapes faint in the dark—demi-humans with glowing eyes, humans with hollow stares, a few animal-like figures twitching nervously.

They watched me, silent and still, not running or screaming like the others. Living or dying—it didn’t seem to matter much to them anymore. Their eyes met mine, steady and knowing, like they’d seen worse than this and survived.

*Hum*—a low buzz cut through the noise as I summoned my other dagger back in my hand, its blade gleaming faintly as it settled into my grip.

The crowd’s screams spiked, their voices shuddering harder, raw with terror. "He’s got another one!" a guy yelled, his light shaking so bad it barely stayed on me. "What is he?!" a woman sobbed, sinking to her knees, her phone clattering to the floor. "We’re dead—we’re all dead!" another shouted, his voice hoarse as he banged on the elevator with both hands.

The auditorium was a mess of flickering shadows and raw panic, the crowd’s screams bouncing off the walls like a trapped animal’s cries.

Up on the first-floor railing, the two knights crept forward, their boots clanking softly against the metal as they peered into the dark hall below.

Their flashlights shook in their hands, the beams cutting through the blackness, searching for answers. The air was thick with the smell of blood and fear.

"You think he’s dead?" the first knight whispered, his voice low and shaky. He gripped his gun tighter, his knuckles white under the dim glow of his light. His head tilted as he heard the crowd’s noise.

"I don’t know, man!" the second one hissed back, his eyes darting around. "Boss would’ve called us by now if that punk was down, right? And listen—the crowd’s screaming like crazy. That’s not a good sign." He shifted his weight, his armor creaking, his flashlight beam swinging nervously over the railing.

"Let’s check, at least," the first one said, swallowing hard. "We can’t just stand here guessing." He took a step closer to the edge, leaning out to get a better look.

The second knight hesitated, his hand hovering over his gun. "I’m getting a bad vibe, dude," he muttered, his voice dropping even lower.

"Something’s wrong—I can feel it." But before he could argue more, their flashlights caught something below—a smear of blood on the wall, dark and wet, and then Ham’s body, slumped lifeless at the base. The beams lingered, trembling, as they pieced it together.

"Oh crap..." the first one breathed, his voice barely audible.

That’s when I moved. *Fush*—a dagger flew from my hand, spinning fast through the air. It didn’t even take a second—just a blur of steel—and *gush*, it buried itself deep in the first knight’s face.

His head snapped back, blood spraying as he crumpled to the railing, his gun clattering uselessly beside him. The flashlight rolled away, its beam spinning wild across the ceiling.

The second knight froze, his eyes wide with shock. "N-no—no way!" he stammered, his gun slipping from his sweaty hands.

It fell, tumbling over the edge and crashing to the floor below with a loud *bang*. He stumbled back, shivering, sweat pouring down his face as he turned to look down at me.

I had already threw my second dagger—*gush*—my second dagger slammed into his face, pinning him against the wall.

His body jerked once, then went limp, sliding down to join his buddy in a heap. Blood trickled from where the blade had struck, pooling under them, their flashlights dimming as the batteries flickered out.

Down below, the crowd’s screams hit a new pitch, their phone lights catching the fresh blood dripping from the railing. "He’s killing them all!" a woman shrieked, clawing at the elevator doors. "We’re next—oh God, we’re next!" a man yelled, shoving someone aside.

"The fuck—?" a voice cut through from behind the stage. Another knight, with a sword strapped to his back, peeked out from the wings. His eyes locked on me—on Ham’s body, on the blood, on the chaos—and his face went pale. "Nope, I didn’t signed up for this shit!" he muttered, spinning on his heel and tunning for the backstage.

He darted through a side door, the wood slamming shut behind him with a loud *thud*, his footsteps fading fast into the distance.

I watched him go, my eyes tracking his back as he disappeared. Slowly, I slid my hands into my pockets, my boots tapping the concrete as I started walking in that direction. The daggers I’d thrown shimmered and vanished from the knights’ faces, dissolving into the dark like they’d never been there.

The crowd’s screams followed me, shrill and desperate, but I didn’t look back—just kept moving, steady and quiet, toward that door and whatever waited beyond it.