Semanuick realized that he couldn't continue putting himself in harm's way. He refused to believe that the male hunter killed him in the first two instances. That was all because he wasn't careful enough. The third and fourth times, he became more and more cautious, but neither ambushing nor striking first worked. The hunter seemed like a perfect killing machine, able to quickly adjust and counterattack even with slight weakness.
In modern society, how could such a person exist? Was he a professional killer? What was his identity in the second world?
Semanuick racked his brain to recall the details of each time he was killed.
The hunter first killed him in Los Angeles, his hometown. He was obsessed with selecting his next sacrifice target, spending two nights prowling the streets, even killing one, and hiding the body in a sewer. At dawn, he would sneak into a nearby vacant building to hide and rest.
At that time, on a Monday morning, the hunter suddenly appeared while Semanuick was resting. He drew his knife and attacked. Semanuick tried to fight back but couldn't even touch the hunter's clothes. He turned and fled, but the man could teleport through shadows, following him like a cat chasing a mouse, deliberately or unintentionally driving him to the rooftop. Finally, with nowhere left to run, Semanuick was kicked in the jaw by the hunter, breaking it, and then thrown off the building.
In the second world, Semanuick awakened his superpowers by drinking god blood, and at the same time, his physique was transformed, granting him extraordinary healing abilities. However, even with this, his skull would shatter, and he would die instantly upon hitting the ground after falling from the building. His healing ability was useless once he was dead.
The second time the hunter killed him, the date was moved up by one day, on a Sunday night.
Semanuick was at a stage of overconfidence after awakening his superpowers. Who could kill him? No one could kill him! He was immortal! He attributed his first failure to an accident, and as long as he was more careful, went to places without shadows, and didn't let be led by the hunter, the hunter wouldn't be able to kill him.
Semanuick was eager to avenge the hunter and planned to get his hands on a suitable weapon. He wanted to rob a police officer and take a gun, but it was too difficult to implement, so he settled for stealing a large machete from a butcher's shop. Since he had killed people, the police were after him, and city security patrols became more frequent, with many officers carrying weapons. Being shot in the forehead with a bullet would be fatal.
On Sunday night, Semanuick disguised himself and bought food at a convenience store. An old, near-sighted woman saw through his disguise and recognized him as a wanted criminal, pressing the alarm button.
Semanuick killed the old woman, grabbed the food, and fled. Then the nightmare began; the hunter happened to live nearby. He heard the convenience store's shrill alarm and came out to investigate. Seeing the fleeing Semanuick, he pulled out a gleaming kitchen knife from his waist and chased after him.
Unfortunately, the machete was difficult to carry, so Semanuick didn't take it when he went to buy food. Even more unfortunate was that the hunter's powers were maximized during the night because shadows were everywhere. His ability to teleport had virtually no limitations!
The hunter easily caught up, still employing the cat-and-mouse strategy, leaving Semanuick nowhere to run. Semanuick was lured once again to a dead-end—this time, a nearby construction site.
If Semanuick didn't follow the hunter's intended path, the hunter would suddenly appear behind him and stab him in the waist, causing Semanuick to scream in pain and lose his sanity, completely oblivious to the direction he was running.
After being stabbed over twenty times by the hunter, Semanuick suddenly realized he had been again driven to a building. He turned to counterattack, but the hunter easily slashed his spine with the knife, paralyzing him and rendering him unable to move. The hunter then dragged him to the window and threw him down.
After his third death and resurrection, Semanuick calmed down and sorted out the information.
The hunter had superpowers, so he must be a player. As a Californian, he must have received the mission prompt to investigate the cult's murder cases. Having been killed twice in a row, Semanuick was sure the hunter had a strong purpose—his target was to kill him, and he indeed succeeded.
Semanuick was filled with hatred and eager to teach the man a lesson. He wanted to kill the hunter and offer the hunter's life to the all-knowing, all-powerful Lord.
In his previous death, Semanuick had learned the general whereabouts of the hunter. As soon as he was revived, he stole a butcher knife and went to a location near where the hunter lived, waiting for him. The reason he chose a butcher knife instead of the large machete was that the machete had not been useful the last time. It was too conspicuous and not flexible enough. Bigger wasn't necessarily better; the most suitable weapon was the best choice.
Hard work paid off, and Semanuick finally caught sight of the hunter.
In their previous encounters, the hunter had always been fully armed, wearing long clothes, pants, and a fireman's mask. Inside the mask, the hunter had even wrapped bandages and cloth covering his face, exposing only two eyes.
The hunter never spoke. Semanuick had never heard his voice. He remained silent while chasing him, cutting him, and throwing him off the building.
He didn't waste any words and was focused solely on killing.
After a long search and investigation, Semanuick finally found the small hotel where the hunter stayed. The hunter seemed to be an outsider, coming to this city specifically to investigate him. He didn't have a residence in town, so he stayed at a hotel, a gangster inn that didn't require identification.
What baffled Semanuick was that the hunter even disguised himself when going out to buy things—wearing long clothes and pants, a baseball cap, a mask, and even colorful cheap toy sunglasses on his nose. His eyes were well-covered, making it impossible for Semanuick to see his face. Semanuick bought a telescope, trying to peek through the hotel windows, only to find the curtains tightly drawn at all times, leaving no gap.
Damn, the man's defenses were all-encompassing!
Semanuick patiently hid in the shadows, waiting for the hunter to leave the hotel during the day.
He couldn't attack the hunter at night because the Shadows would enhance the hunter's combat abilities. The best time to strike would be during the bright daylight when the hunter left the hotel. Semanuick would follow behind and suddenly strike, aiming for a fatal blow.
People tend to lower their guard during the day, as everyone believes the night is the most dangerous.
Semanuick finally got his chance.
Because of the scorching weather, very few people were on the street. The hunter chose to go out at noon when the sun was at its strongest and shadows were at their shortest. Semanuick knew his opportunity had come.
He had figured out that the hunter's teleportation ability not only relied on shadow coordinates but also had a distance limit. Through two pursuit rounds, he had more or less determined the maximum range.
However, what frustrated Semanuick was that even while walking, the hunter stayed close to the shadows of the walls and never walked in the middle of the road.
Semanuick felt like he was going to explode. How could there be such a person in this world? Was this level of caution even human?!
Finally, at a corner, Semanuick saw his opportunity. The hunter had to cross a pedestrian crossing, and within five meters, there were no flower beds, tree shades, railings, or any other obstructions. It was a once-in-a-lifetime perfect opportunity!
Pretending to be a passerby, Semanuick crossed the road with the hunter. He lowered his footsteps in the middle of the road, quickly approached the hunter, and drew his knife to stab him.
Semanuick's eyes widened in shock as the hunter dodged his attack. The hunter reached behind his back, drew a cold, gleaming kitchen knife, and stabbed backward, puncturing Semanuick's lung.
Coughing up blood, Semanuick saw the hunter disappear in front of him. While the absence of shadows limited his agility, the hunter could still use the shadows of the two people to teleport. Having learned from previous deaths, Semanuick knew the hunter had a habit of attacking from behind, so he stabbed backward without looking.
Clang! His knife was blocked!
"You know me. You know my abilities," the hunter said gloomily from behind him.
The hunter delivered a swift kick to Semanuick's lower body as he spoke. Semanuick's face turned purple, and his expression twisted in pain. He was sent flying two meters away, crashing to the ground and barely able to hold onto his knife.
This was the first time Semanuick heard the hunter's voice—cold, clear, and young.
Semanuick realized that he couldn't continue putting himself in harm's way. He refused to believe that the male hunter killed him in the first two instances. That was all because he wasn't careful enough. The third and fourth times, he became more and more cautious, but neither ambushing nor striking first worked. The hunter seemed like a perfect killing machine, able to quickly adjust and counterattack even with slight weakness.
In modern society, how could such a person exist? Was he a professional killer? What was his identity in the second world?
Semanuick racked his brain to recall the details of each time he was killed.
The hunter first killed him in Los Angeles, his hometown. He was obsessed with selecting his next sacrifice target, spending two nights prowling the streets, even killing one, and hiding the body in a sewer. At dawn, he would sneak into a nearby vacant building to hide and rest.
At that time, on a Monday morning, the hunter suddenly appeared while Semanuick was resting. He drew his knife and attacked. Semanuick tried to fight back but couldn't even touch the hunter's clothes. He turned and fled, but the man could teleport through shadows, following him like a cat chasing a mouse, deliberately or unintentionally driving him to the rooftop. Finally, with nowhere left to run, Semanuick was kicked in the jaw by the hunter, breaking it, and then thrown off the building.
In the second world, Semanuick awakened his superpowers by drinking god blood, and at the same time, his physique was transformed, granting him extraordinary healing abilities. However, even with this, his skull would shatter, and he would die instantly upon hitting the ground after falling from the building. His healing ability was useless once he was dead.
The second time the hunter killed him, the date was moved up by one day, on a Sunday night.
Semanuick was at a stage of overconfidence after awakening his superpowers. Who could kill him? No one could kill him! He was immortal! He attributed his first failure to an accident, and as long as he was more careful, went to places without shadows, and didn't let be led by the hunter, the hunter wouldn't be able to kill him.
Semanuick was eager to avenge the hunter and planned to get his hands on a suitable weapon. He wanted to rob a police officer and take a gun, but it was too difficult to implement, so he settled for stealing a large machete from a butcher's shop. Since he had killed people, the police were after him, and city security patrols became more frequent, with many officers carrying weapons. Being shot in the forehead with a bullet would be fatal.
On Sunday night, Semanuick disguised himself and bought food at a convenience store. An old, near-sighted woman saw through his disguise and recognized him as a wanted criminal, pressing the alarm button.
Semanuick killed the old woman, grabbed the food, and fled. Then the nightmare began; the hunter happened to live nearby. He heard the convenience store's shrill alarm and came out to investigate. Seeing the fleeing Semanuick, he pulled out a gleaming kitchen knife from his waist and chased after him.
Unfortunately, the machete was difficult to carry, so Semanuick didn't take it when he went to buy food. Even more unfortunate was that the hunter's powers were maximized during the night because shadows were everywhere. His ability to teleport had virtually no limitations!
The hunter easily caught up, still employing the cat-and-mouse strategy, leaving Semanuick nowhere to run. Semanuick was lured once again to a dead-end—this time, a nearby construction site.
If Semanuick didn't follow the hunter's intended path, the hunter would suddenly appear behind him and stab him in the waist, causing Semanuick to scream in pain and lose his sanity, completely oblivious to the direction he was running.
After being stabbed over twenty times by the hunter, Semanuick suddenly realized he had been again driven to a building. He turned to counterattack, but the hunter easily slashed his spine with the knife, paralyzing him and rendering him unable to move. The hunter then dragged him to the window and threw him down.
After his third death and resurrection, Semanuick calmed down and sorted out the information.
The hunter had superpowers, so he must be a player. As a Californian, he must have received the mission prompt to investigate the cult's murder cases. Having been killed twice in a row, Semanuick was sure the hunter had a strong purpose—his target was to kill him, and he indeed succeeded.
Semanuick was filled with hatred and eager to teach the man a lesson. He wanted to kill the hunter and offer the hunter's life to the all-knowing, all-powerful Lord.
In his previous death, Semanuick had learned the general whereabouts of the hunter. As soon as he was revived, he stole a butcher knife and went to a location near where the hunter lived, waiting for him. The reason he chose a butcher knife instead of the large machete was that the machete had not been useful the last time. It was too conspicuous and not flexible enough. Bigger wasn't necessarily better; the most suitable weapon was the best choice.
Hard work paid off, and Semanuick finally caught sight of the hunter.
In their previous encounters, the hunter had always been fully armed, wearing long clothes, pants, and a fireman's mask. Inside the mask, the hunter had even wrapped bandages and cloth covering his face, exposing only two eyes.
The hunter never spoke. Semanuick had never heard his voice. He remained silent while chasing him, cutting him, and throwing him off the building.
He didn't waste any words and was focused solely on killing.
After a long search and investigation, Semanuick finally found the small hotel where the hunter stayed. The hunter seemed to be an outsider, coming to this city specifically to investigate him. He didn't have a residence in town, so he stayed at a hotel, a gangster inn that didn't require identification.
What baffled Semanuick was that the hunter even disguised himself when going out to buy things—wearing long clothes and pants, a baseball cap, a mask, and even colorful cheap toy sunglasses on his nose. His eyes were well-covered, making it impossible for Semanuick to see his face. Semanuick bought a telescope, trying to peek through the hotel windows, only to find the curtains tightly drawn at all times, leaving no gap.
Damn, the man's defenses were all-encompassing!
Semanuick patiently hid in the shadows, waiting for the hunter to leave the hotel during the day.
He couldn't attack the hunter at night because the Shadows would enhance the hunter's combat abilities. The best time to strike would be during the bright daylight when the hunter left the hotel. Semanuick would follow behind and suddenly strike, aiming for a fatal blow.
People tend to lower their guard during the day, as everyone believes the night is the most dangerous.
Semanuick finally got his chance.
Because of the scorching weather, very few people were on the street. The hunter chose to go out at noon when the sun was at its strongest and shadows were at their shortest. Semanuick knew his opportunity had come.
He had figured out that the hunter's teleportation ability not only relied on shadow coordinates but also had a distance limit. Through two pursuit rounds, he had more or less determined the maximum range.
However, what frustrated Semanuick was that even while walking, the hunter stayed close to the shadows of the walls and never walked in the middle of the road.
Semanuick felt like he was going to explode. How could there be such a person in this world? Was this level of caution even human?!
Finally, at a corner, Semanuick saw his opportunity. The hunter had to cross a pedestrian crossing, and within five meters, there were no flower beds, tree shades, railings, or any other obstructions. It was a once-in-a-lifetime perfect opportunity!
Pretending to be a passerby, Semanuick crossed the road with the hunter. He lowered his footsteps in the middle of the road, quickly approached the hunter, and drew his knife to stab him.
Semanuick's eyes widened in shock as the hunter dodged his attack. The hunter reached behind his back, drew a cold, gleaming kitchen knife, and stabbed backward, puncturing Semanuick's lung.
Coughing up blood, Semanuick saw the hunter disappear in front of him. While the absence of shadows limited his agility, the hunter could still use the shadows of the two people to teleport. Having learned from previous deaths, Semanuick knew the hunter had a habit of attacking from behind, so he stabbed backward without looking.
Clang! His knife was blocked!
"You know me. You know my abilities," the hunter said gloomily from behind him.
The hunter delivered a swift kick to Semanuick's lower body as he spoke. Semanuick's face turned purple, and his expression twisted in pain. He was sent flying two meters away, crashing to the ground and barely able to hold onto his knife.
This was the first time Semanuick heard the hunter's voice—cold, clear, and young.
