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A gruesome scene of bodies, like broken puppets, scattered at Alan's feet. In his hand, he now holds a sword, its blade as fiery as he, filled with burning resentment. However, the sword in his hand is as light as a candle flame, constantly changing shape, intertwining long and short, as if performing a magnificent dance.
He gracefully spins his body, carrying a sharp sword wind to strike down a skinner attempting to escape, the sword energy cutting through the air, accompanied by sparks and a mist of blood. As the number of enemies decreases, the scene gradually becomes quiet, leaving only Alan's stern gaze and the buzzing of the sword in his hand.
Many skinners are no longer in an attacking state, but are instead occupied by fear in their hearts, unable to move in front of Alan, and even choosing to turn and escape.
At this moment, a huge figure slowly emerged from the shadows. With each step, the ground would tremble slightly due to his weight. This strange person had a rough burlap bag over his head, with only two eyes exposed, filled with madness and murderous intent.
He held a giant, rusted scythe in his hand, and with each step, the blade would create sparks as it scraped against the ground. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed a skinner who was trying to escape, and with his large hand, he squeezed hard.
Bang!
With a muffled sound, the head of the skinner burst like a bubble, and blood and brain splattered everywhere.
"Finally, something interesting." Alan tightly gripped the sword in his hand, smiling slightly, as if all of this was a challenge he had long awaited.
The voice of the giant monster echoed in the spacious factory, like a piercing shockwave, causing Alan to squint involuntarily. Seizing the moment, the monster questioned in a deep and lingering tone, "Why do you want to destroy everything here?"
Alan responded with a cold smile, displaying his contempt for the place without any reservation.
"I can't see any reason for existence here."
The giant monster took a slow step forward, its eyes shining like molten lava, and said, word by word, "Can't you see it? These bodies, these so-called 'worthless existences' of yours, they create miracles in the market. We use these free bodies to produce soap that allows poor families to bathe and have a chance to eat food. Isn't this wonderful? Isn't this a kind of justice?"
Alan tightly clenched his fist, feeling the rising power of the god of anger within him.
Attis, however, paid no attention and continued to arrogantly declare, "All of this is just, bestowed upon me by the god of justice, allowing me to manage these dead and transform their 'uselessness' into 'usefulness.' This is a great endeavor, far beyond the comprehension of narrow-minded individuals like you!"
Attis's words are full of hypocrisy and arrogance. He truly believes that he is doing something just, which only disgusts Alan even more. This distorted sense of justice is exactly the epitome of the unfair system that he has always wanted to overthrow.
"Attis, you are nothing but a grave robber, exploiting the dead and the living for your own benefit. Today, I will make you understand what true justice is!"
Alan's voice reached a climax the moment he spoke these words, feeling the power of his inner god of anger completely unleashed. He was ready to use this power to utterly shatter Attis's twisted sense of justice.
Attis dragged the huge scythe corroded by time and sin, spinning wildly on the battlefield. The weapon in his hand seemed to have a will of its own, smashing through any obstacles in its path. Dust and debris flew, even the air was torn apart, emitting sharp whistling sounds.
"Haha! Alan, you weakling! Are you too afraid to come challenge me?" Attis laughed loudly, his laughter filled with madness and arrogance.
Alan smiled slightly, his expression showing no fear or hesitation. Instead, there was a calm determination, with a hint of barely noticeable anger. He clenched his fists, and a red light flashed in his palms, instantly transforming into two weapons.
In his left hand, a crossbow appeared, with arrowheads shimmering with a dark red light, as if it were the embodiment of Alan's boiling anger. And in his right hand, a spear materialized, its tip also faintly glowing with that dark red light.
"Come on, Attis, let's fight."
At that moment, Alan took aim at Attis, who still had a flaw in his whirlwind-like dance, and then he pulled the trigger of the crossbow. A dark red arrow flew out, heading straight for Attis at an invisible speed.
Attis felt a huge shock as the arrow pierced through his whirlwind-like defense, hitting him accurately. The next second, the arrow exploded, releasing a powerful energy that sent him flying out.
The explosive force raised a thick layer of smoke and the surrounding bodies were shattered by the impact of the explosion, with blood and flesh scattered everywhere. The strong smell of blood and the burnt odor in the air formed a nauseating mixture. As the smoke slowly dispersed, a shocking scene appeared before Alan: Attis was completely unharmed, and the scythe in his hand, carrying the scent of death and decay, was like a venomous snake, ready to strike at any moment.
"Hahaha, how ridiculous! Do you think this kind of child's play can hurt me? Is this your idea of justice?" Attis mocked, as his scythe drew a brutal arc of light, like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, carrying a destructive force as it swung towards Alan.
Alan aimed instantly and fired three crossbow bolts in rapid succession. The arrows cut through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound. However, those arrows were like hitting cotton, causing no harm to Attis. Attis just sneered and easily shattered the arrows with a sickle.
"Do you have any more cards to play?" Attis taunted with a smile, as if already foreseeing Alan's fate.
Alan took a deep breath, holding the long spear formed from the power of anger. He understood that even the crossbow couldn't deal with Attis, he needed a more direct and deadly approach. He threw the crossbow aside, tightly gripped the long spear in his right hand, took a few steps back, and distanced himself from Attis.
Attis watched Alan retreat and sneered, "Have you given up? Is this your ridiculous sense of justice?"
Alan gritted his teeth, feeling the anger boiling inside him, a surge of power that only made him more resolute. He told Attis, "What I represent has never been just about justice."
Attis only sneered, unaware of the unpredictable power bestowed upon Alan by the god of anger.
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