The penthouse was no longer an office for the depraved, but was now a biological disaster zone, a fever dream of wet thuds, tearing flesh, and the high-pitched, discordant shrieking of the newborn wailers.
The air was becoming thick with a cloying, metallic stench that seemed to coat the back of the throat.
"Sakai! What are you standing there for!? Help me!?" Renji's roar cut through the chaos.
He was struggling, his massive frame braced as he carried three traumatized girls at once—one tucked under each arm and another slung over his shoulder.
Sakai snapped out of his daze, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as he jumped, his boots skidding on a slick patch of spilled wine and blood. "O-Oh! R-Right!"
Renji didn't have the breath to curse him out. He understood better, after all, that smong their group, Sakai had always been the one with the softest heart, the kindest disposition, and arguably the one with the faintest heart.
