Fredrick from the Department of CPUS-Intelligence-Arms arrived at Kami's council chamber to discuss an important matter. He requested Kami to summon Leon since the discussion centered on him.
Almost a week before, Leon had gone to Feropia for the assassination, Vincin the Leader of Vincin community was murdered, which is why Fredrick asked Kami to summon him; he was an unmentioned suspect.
Just when they'd gone outside, Fredrick's demeanor turned immediately grave. The discussion didn't require Kami's presence, but Fredrick felt it would be wise to have Kami as a neutral arbiter.
He placed several photographs in front of Kami and requested Leon to take a look. "These are photographs of Morgan's 9-year-old daughter, Misha."
Misha was slaughtered by Vincin himself as an act of vengeance, because Morgan had arrested a few Ivanns, including Vincin's younger brother.
Fredrick described: "Vincin took a sharp butcher knife and slaughtered Misha while she was conscious—she was alive, with no hope of escape. Her mouth was ungagged, so she could scream; her hands were tied, but not to any pillar or chair, and she crawled on the ground, trying to escape him. She screamed in agony as Vincin butchered each part of her body; he butchered her even after she was dead. He snapped photos of her corpse, which bore at least twenty-nine cuts; she died on the sixteenth slash, yet Vincin wasn't satisfied; he kept butchering her, tearing her apart completely. In the end, Vincin severed her head, left it with the photos in front of Morgan's house, and disappeared."
Vincin's group was the most violent community of Ivanns; they had committed numerous offenses and were very dissimilar to the Ostrich or Tribal Community.
Leon's reaction was one of distress; he recalled the incident when Morgan cried like a madman over his daughter. He took a deep, trembling breath. He looked on the verge of fainting.
Fredrick asked if he felt uncomfortable, but Leon was alright, insisting…
Fredrick then revealed more photos, spreading them on the table… "Several months ago, Vincin was murdered in the same manner as he'd murdered Morgan's daughter. Someone used an identical butcher knife to kill him and his friend."
Fredrick had a theory he was unsure about. They had tracked Vincin's location several months ago in a highly classified operation. The murder was not a random act; Fredrick suspected Morgan might have been involved. "Since Morgan had every reason to want Vincin dead, moreover, the murder weapon points straight back to him—the butcher knife. The knife used was the same kind that Vincin used to kill his daughter. It was very possible that someone from our team leaked Vincin's location to him, and he avenged his daughter."
Kami raised a hand to his chin, thinking deeply. "So…"
Fredrick responded that they had emphasized keeping the details confidential, hoping to announce them at the right time, but now they were unsure who had leaked the information.
He then turned to Leon and asked, "Do you know who might have done this?"
But Leon was unfazed, as always, and said, "I suspect Morgan as well, but right now, we have no proof against him. But whether he did it or not, we must treat him like a suspect."
Fredrick smirked and informed them that Morgan had been placed in special custody. "We were still investigating the case. But to be fair, even if Morgan did carry out the murder, I had no issue with it. Vincin deserved it, but unfortunately, we must act impartially."
Fredrick then packed up the documents and returned them to his briefcase.
Kami, still lost in thought, wondered aloud, "How could such sensitive information reach Morgan? And how can I help in this case?"
Fredrick informed them that they had been investigating the entire department since Vincin's body was discovered. "We'd had custody of about twenty investigators, but so far, no evidence or clues had surfaced. However, we found someone who claimed to have witnessed the murder months ago. His name was Shaun, and he was an odd guy."
Shaun was found drunk and unconscious near the murder scene. He was about two houses away from the location when the police found him early in the morning. His mental state was far from stable.
Shaun's family claimed he had never acted this way before. It seemed that whatever he saw that night had traumatized him, causing a break in his mental state.
The police tried to interrogate him, asking who he saw that night, but Shaun interrupted, "Not a person…" he said. "A creature, a nightmarish face. It was 'LAM' the ripper. He held two butcher knives, and he cut through them right in front of his eyes. Each slash dug into their bones and flesh, and the blood splattered all over the creature. They screamed, but nobody was there to help. Only I, a terrified human being, could not fight a reaper. Then the creature turned; it stared at me, and I saw its face had no mouth, just hollow white eyes with only hollow pupils. Two horns sprouted from its forehead. Then, it reached out from its cloak—dozens of hands, like the hands of death. I could hardly comprehend it. I didn't want to see it, and then suddenly I fell unconscious on the ground."
The police were bewildered. No one believed him; they all thought he was mentally disturbed. But Shaun insisted he was not mad.
Fredrick seemed uncertain whether Shaun had truly seen the angel of death or if it was just a hallucination, a psychological manifestation caused by fear, causing hallucinations, like perceiving a person as someone else…
It remained a mystery.
"Perhaps that was destiny," Fredrick said and got up.
Leon also escorted them out to drop Manabu and the others back home. While driving his car, his mind began to revisit the memories of Misha—her innocent smile, her laughter, and that day at the funeral; Morgan's screams, weeping over her grave.
It had been a year since her death. On the night of her ninth birthday, she was kidnapped, and later her headless body was found floating in the water. Misha had been such a sweet girl, and Leon had adored her.
To Leon, Morgan was like an older brother, and Misha was like a niece.
As Leon drove, the memories overwhelmed him. His eyes began to turn red as he recalled the tragic event; tears filled his eyes whenever he recalled the day—the kidnapping, the helplessness, the horror of losing someone so pure.
Somehow, Morgan had learned the location of Vincin. A senior officer had leaked the information to him out of sympathy. And Morgan had come to Leon, asking him to kill Vincin. "Leon, kill that bastard just like he killed my daughter."
Leon didn't hesitate at all. The decision was made. Morgan's grief was undeniable.
"The death of an innocent person is equal to the death of all humanity…"
Leon had no tolerance for injustice. It didn't matter that Vincin was an Ivann; what mattered was whether he deserved to live or not.
Vincin had been on his way to his house with friends when Leon, armed with two butcher knives, approached them with heavy steps, eyes red and wide.
Just when they stopped in front of Vincin's house, having a conversation, Leon suddenly emerged from the shadows. He was gripping the knives tightly, his movements swift and deadly. He walked toward them with heavy steps, and with a few swift motions, the deadly blades did their work.
His whole body was stained with blood, and Vincin's life was snuffed out in an instant.
They got scared watching Leon walk toward them with drawn knives. "It's been a while, Vincin," he said and dashed.
They tried to run inside the house, but Leon threw his knife, and it struck Vincin's friend's cranium, puncturing the skull.
Vincin was stunned, but his life was on the line; Leon rushed forward, sinking the blade into the muscle and ribs, slicing through the back.
His hands moved like an animal's, the cold steel cutting through the layers of flesh.
The sounds of tearing flesh and bone echoed as Leon's hands became drenched in Vincin's blood.
Vincin's body collapsed to the ground, the weight of his own blood pulling him down, and Leon continued his butchering.
With the blade, he slashed at Vincin's abdomen, cutting through the dermis, fat, and muscle layers.
His hands, now a mangled mess, were severed at the wrists, and his face—cheeks, nose—was torn apart by the gruesome swings of Leon's blade.
His ribs were exposed as his chest cavity was shredded, the muscle fibers rupturing.
Vincin's legs were hanging; the femur and tibia were barely attached to the shredded skin and flesh, swinging loosely.
His entire body was bathed in blood, but Leon made sure to avoid the jugular and heart, prolonging his suffering.
Leon could feel the blood pumping through his own veins as he continued to tear into Vincin.
Despite the carnage, Vincin's eyes remained wide, and he was still breathing, although barely.
Leon stopped; his hands were tired.
Vincin was alive since Leon avoided butchering the vital points, but Vincin's friend died almost instantly.
Leon looked up and breathed heavily. He looked back at Vincin—dead but alive…
"Do you know what we criminals fear the most? It's not the consequences of our actions, but the uncertainty of being seen by someone."
Fear of being witnessed.
Fear is an instinc, a primal emotion.
The body reacts before the mind can think.
Our fear works the same, but don't worry…
Leon whispered sarcastically, "There are no witnesses."
Vincin's pupils dilated in shock as he took his last breath, the final signs of life fading from his body as his heart stopped.