"What did you say…"
Throat Ripper's voice dropped to a low, eerie murmur—too calm, far too still.
His expression darkened, and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. From somewhere in the distance, faint giggles echoed across the lake, a cruel mockery that seemed to fan the flames of his rage.
His mind twisted.
Since when… since when had he been treated like this?
He was the Throat Ripper Demon of the Blood Fang Gang. A butcher. A nightmare. A name whispered by grown men with trembling voices.
Had the world truly forgotten?
Had they forgotten who he was?
His chest heaved as anger surged through him, hot and volatile. His pride—shredded. His dominance—challenged. His face felt like it was burning, not from shame, but from the sheer heat of his boiling fury.
Every fiber of his being screamed for blood. He didn't just want to punish someone.
He wanted to annihilate.
