BANG!
Ron's kick sent Lunas crashing into the café's glass wall.
The impact shattered it instantly.
Countless shards buried themselves deep into Lunas's body, drawing a muffled groan from him.
Ron didn't stop.
He pulled another cigarette from his pocket and crushed it between his fingers.
The cigarette disintegrated into fine dust.
The particles drifted toward Lunas.
"Ugh..."
Lunas staggered to his feet.
A long blade of glass formed in his hand.
Without hesitation, he lunged.
Then suddenly—
Click.
His body froze.
Every joint locked in place as though someone had cut the strings controlling a puppet.
Speed.
Strength.
Technique.
None of it mattered.
Ron kicked the table he'd been sitting at.
The heavy wooden table shot across the room like a battering ram.
At the same time, Ron twisted his body, spun, and launched himself into the air.
RIP!
An invisible force slammed Lunas against the wall.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't dodge.
Couldn't even raise his weapon.
All he could do was watch the table hurtle toward him.
The edge struck first.
Half his face collapsed instantly.
Before he could even register the pain—
BOOM!
Ron's descending kick smashed into the top of his head.
The fight was over.
In less than a handful of exchanges.
Ron landed lightly on the floor.
Looking at the wreckage before him, he became even more certain that his deduction had been correct.
"You know..."
He drew the knife hanging from his waist and slowly approached the ruined figure.
"I have three disciples."
"Lunas was my first."
The creature wearing Lunas's face tilted its head.
"Is that so?"
There was no fear in its voice.
No anger.
No panic.
Only a strange hint of amusement.
Ron stared at it expressionlessly.
"Do you know what I call him?"
The creature remained silent.
"A close-combat genius."
A faint chuckle escaped the impostor.
"Heh. Aren't you going to ask me anything?"
Ron stopped a few steps away.
Not once did he lower his guard.
His knife remained ready to strike at any moment.
"Trying to deceive me?"
The impostor smiled.
"I considered it."
It looked directly at him.
"But I'm curious."
"How did you know I wasn't him?"
Ron didn't answer immediately.
His eyes swept across the surroundings.
Every possible escape route.
Every blind spot.
Every shadow.
Only after confirming everything did he finally speak.
"I assume your people have some method of transmitting information before they die."
The creature's smile widened.
Ron continued calmly.
"Otherwise there'd be no point sending infiltrators."
"So tell me."
He pressed the knife against the creature's throat.
"Do you have an escape mechanism?"
"Or are you just another third-rate movie villain?"
One hour earlier.
Approximately 6:00 AM.
As the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon, Ron had already begun surveying the hospital and its surrounding district once again.
He counted.
Corpses.
Survivors.
Buildings.
Population density.
Anything that could be measured.
After comparing his observations with the city's map, he arrived at a conclusion.
The population density was wrong.
Before New Year's Eve, many people would naturally gather in entertainment districts.
But not everyone.
A large number would stay home with their families.
Especially families that rarely had the chance to reunite.
After estimating the numbers, Ron concluded that roughly one-third of the city's residents should have remained indoors.
So he checked.
House after house.
Apartment after apartment.
The signs of daily life were everywhere.
Meals left unfinished.
Televisions still running.
Lights left on.
Everything suggested the disaster had occurred shortly before midnight.
Yet the numbers still didn't add up.
This city consisted of multiple districts.
Different social classes.
Different living standards.
The wealthy occupied the center.
The poor lived closer to the outskirts.
That was normal.
Ron was currently in District 5.
Far from the city center.
A lower-middle-class area.
People here were generally less likely to spend heavily before New Year's Eve.
Most would save their money for celebrations after midnight instead.
Which made the discrepancy even harder to explain.
The city contained far fewer people than it should have.
Far fewer.
That realization led Ron to several possibilities.
Either this place was a separate dimension capable of pulling in only a limited number of people.
Or the missing population had been dragged elsewhere.
Perhaps into other supernatural spaces.
Places similar to the train Ron had once boarded.
However, another detail soon caught his attention.
The corpses scattered across the streets had been mutilated beyond recognition.
Bodies torn apart.
Limbs ripped off.
Flesh stripped away as though something had fed on them alive.
Yet the corpses hanging from walls or suspended above the ground were different.
Most remained relatively intact.
Aside from the fatal wounds that had killed them.