Everyone was prostrate on the ground; those with weaker constitutions had simply collapsed flat.
Only one person remained unaffected, and that was Clara in Oliver's arms.
The little girl glanced worriedly at Mr. Svarog, her small hands clutching Oliver's chest as she pleaded, "Mr. Oliver, please forgive Mr. Svarog, it truly did nothing wrong."
Oliver naturally knew Svarog was innocent.
However, establishing authority required participants.
The Silvermane Guards, the Fire-Melt Organization, and Svarog were all roles meant to participate.
"Mn."
Oliver softly hummed in acknowledgment.
With a shift of thought, the pressure in certain areas instantly vanished.
Svarog, the Fire-Melt Organization, the Silvermane Guards, and those who had come to maintain order were all able to stand up again.
Clara looked down at the ground, it was a bit high, and she was a bit scared, unconsciously tightening her grip on Oliver's arm.
Oliver noticed her fear, and also tightened his grip slightly, holding her closer.
Then he looked coldly at the kneeling crowd below.
"First, it's the five of you."
His indifferent words were like the scythe of the God of death, lightly suspended over everyone's heads.
They couldn't look up, nor did they know which five it was.
Bang!!
Bang! Bang!
Bang bang!
At the back of the crowd, the bodies of five people suddenly exploded!
Blood mist splattered, and the surrounding people were all stained crimson.
"Ah!!!"
Someone was terrified and couldn't help but scream.
However, everyone else was pressed down by the immense pressure, unable to lift their heads, let alone turn to watch the commotion.
But they all shared a common understanding:
This Supreme Guardian seemed to know their intentions and was about to begin the reckoning—"Supreme Guardian, spare my life! I was just instigated, I really didn't intend to act!"
"Spare me, Sir, I was confused for a moment, wanted to vent, but really didn't mean to blow things up!"
"Please, Supreme Guardian, spare me!"
One person, terrified to the point of a mental breakdown, immediately begged for mercy.
The others also broke down one after another, admitting their mistakes and pleading for mercy.
The instigators were all dead, no one continued to incite, and coupled with Oliver's iron-blooded pressure, anyone with a bit of sense wouldn't dare to step forward again.
Admitting their mistakes and begging for mercy still offered a glimmer of hope.
"Tsk, you don't realize your mistakes, you realize you're going to die."
Oliver ignored the pleas for mercy from the crowd and continued indifferently: "The three of you."
Bang bang bang!!!
Three consecutive explosions.
Another cloud of blood mist spread out.
The stench in the air had been replaced by the smell of rust.
This smell clung to everyone.
They didn't know if they would be next, because they didn't know which of their actions had angered Oliver.
The miners and wanderers were all extremely regretful.
Regretting why they had to get involved in this mess—why they didn't just honestly mine—why they listened to slander and came to seek revenge—"The seven of you."
"And the twenty of you."
Clara didn't dare to look, burying her head in Oliver's embrace.
She couldn't bear to see people die, but she also knew her place and didn't speak up to persuade Oliver.
Because she knew that Mr. Oliver had his own considerations, and she shouldn't interfere.
—
This massacre lasted for a full hour.
This hour was shrouded in the fear of death, and many wet themselves out of fright.
"So many people—all dead—is he really not a demon?"
Natasha held her breath, not daring to even pant.
She found it hard to accept at first that the gentle and elegant young man could torment people so mercilessly.
No matter who it was, even killing a thousand pigs would make one's hands tremble.
But Oliver didn't, not even blinking, killing as he pleased.
"How did I not notice before that he's so domineering and has a knack for tormenting people?"
Seele found it difficult to reconcile the gentle and elegant hero from before with the bloodthirsty Oliver now.
The contrast was truly too great.
This also made everyone understand one thing: as long as one acted normally, Oliver was an approachable good friend, even when joking, he would respond with a smile.
But if one crossed his red line, he would kill without mercy.
"Among those people, there were also ignorant ones without their own opinions, not deserving of death, right—"
Luka murmured.
Sampo patted his metal arm and laughed: "Don't worry, no one will be killed by mistake, Old Svarog guarantees it with his reputation."
If an Emanator truly wanted to kill indiscriminately, he would have just wiped out the surface for you.
Why would he call out names here?
He couldn't be clearer about this.
With so many people, not a single one dared to speak up and persuade.
Of the two thousand people who rioted, only six hundred remained after an hour.
The remaining six hundred people knelt on the ground, trembling.
"You are merely foolish, not deserving of death, but this will not happen again."
These words were originally very cold, but when they fell into everyone's ears, they felt like a spring breeze.
Because this meant they would live.
"Thank you, Supreme Guardian!"
"We will never dare again!"
The survivors were all covered in fresh red, as if they had been soaked in a pool of blood.
"Oleg, take them away and send them to labor reform."
The hostility on Oliver's body dissipated.
He seemed to have returned to his usual amiable and handsome self.
Oleg nodded vigorously, not daring to delay, and immediately led the Fire-Melt Members to escort the survivors back for cleansing and labor reform.
As the crowd departed, the Silvermane Guards also returned to their posts as ordered.
Seele and Natasha glanced at Oliver, then joined the team escorting the labor reform prisoners.
Soon, this area returned to its usual tranquility.
Many robots emerged from the garbage heaps, looking around.
Oliver looked down and saw Clara gazing at him with her beautiful red eyes (as pictured).
"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me with that expression?"
Clara blinked and softly said: "Because I prefer the current Mr. Oliver."
"Gentle, amiable, like an older brother."