When Fenric rushed into the building and snapped the sniper's neck, the bar on his wrist finally returned to green.
A moment later, he stepped onto the road, yanked a man out of a car just as he was about to drive away, and slid into the driver's seat.
"Hey, b*****d, stop! That's my—"
Fenric ignored the man's protests and sped off without a second glance.
Now he moved without restraint.
The mental hospital was no longer a safe place. With the police hunting him, lingering in one location was far too dangerous.
This time, his destination was the morgue.
According to the map, it was the only one in the city, tucked away in a relatively remote district.
He was going there to find the black mortician from the original plot.
Originally, if Fenric could have remained hidden in the asylum, he would have had no interest in that man at all. He had only planned to endure eight days, secure his "Super God" evaluation, and leave. But now, driven out prematurely, he had no choice but to meet the mortician—and to confirm whether he truly was the incarnation of Death, as the legends whispered.
Twenty minutes later, Fenric arrived.
The security guard at the entrance, an old man with half-shut eyes, sat dozing behind a newspaper and didn't even notice Fenric walk past.
The morgue had no real security. After all, it housed corpses, and who in their right mind would want to break in?
Fenric slipped inside with ease.
A cold breeze swept across the tiled floor. He immediately realized it was nothing more than the air-conditioning.
Unfazed, Fenric began his search.
Then, a voice suddenly sounded behind him:
"This isn't a place for the living. Disturb the sleep of the dead, and misfortune will find you."
Fenric froze for an instant before turning. Standing there was a towering black man, his presence commanding.
Impressive.
With Fenric's sharpened senses, even a mouse couldn't scurry past unnoticed. Yet this man had approached without triggering the slightest alarm. That alone proved he wasn't ordinary.
Fenric studied him up and down, eyes gleaming with interest.
"I came here looking for you. Do you know why?"
The man sniffed the air, then nodded solemnly.
"Young man, I smell death on you. That is why you came."
"Good." Fenric laughed. "Then tell me—who are you? Some say you are Death incarnate. Is that true?"
"..."
The black man's expression flickered before he shook his head with a faint smile.
"No. Death needs no incarnation. Like you, I am just a man—one favored by Death."
Fenric nodded slowly. He wasn't lying. Death itself would not stoop to creating incarnations merely to collect corpses.
"I'm being chased by Death right now. Do you have any advice?"
The man fell silent for a moment before answering meaningfully:
"We are mice, toyed with by the cat.
No matter what we do—whether we struggle or celebrate, fly high or fall low—it is all part of Death's design.
If you want to survive, you must avoid the paths Death has already prepared."
Fenric shook his head.
"I am not like you. I can't avoid it."
He was a Samsara player, one of those marked directly by Death. Even if he burrowed underground, Death would shake the earth itself to reach him.
Without another word, Fenric turned to leave.
He glanced at his wrist—his bar was already shifting toward red.
Behind him, the black man stiffened as a chill wind swept past.
"Then let me give you a warning!" he called out. "If you want to live, you must guess how—and when—you will die."
Fenric didn't reply. He left the morgue in silence.
Mysterious as the man was, he was still only human. He couldn't help Fenric.
Fenric got back in the car and drove toward the city.
The bar on his wrist glowed deeper red by the minute. Opening his arms, Fenric's expression turned bold, almost arrogant.
The car hurtled down a slope. The speed kept rising. Fenric pressed the brakes—nothing.
They had failed.
The car was practically new; under normal circumstances, brake failure was impossible.
Another strike from Death.
Ahead, at the end of the slope, a wide moat shimmered in the distance.
"…So, you're planning to drown me?"
Fenric smirked and reached to unfasten his seatbelt—only to find it jammed.
"This little trick won't stop me."
With a sharp pull, the belt tore free with a metallic snap.
Fenric shoved the door open and leapt out, landing smoothly on the pavement.
Behind him came a deafening boom! as the driverless car smashed through the guardrail and plunged into the moat.
Fenric glanced at his wrist. The red bar hadn't receded—it had deepened further, burning crimson.
"So this is only the opening move? Then what comes next?"
He lifted his head and scanned his surroundings.
His leap had already drawn the eyes of nearby passersby. They whispered and pointed, hiding their stares behind cautious glances.
Then, a woman suddenly screamed:
"Oh my God! That's him—the wanted criminal! The government just issued a first-level warrant today. He's extremely dangerous!"
Her words sent ripples through the crowd.
"Look closely—it really is him."
"They say he poisoned people in a hotel, even killed two police officers!"
"A terrorist, through and through!"
"Hey, isn't there a reward? Half a million dollars if we catch him!?"
"That much?! He doesn't seem to have a gun… maybe we could try—"
Fenric's brows furrowed.
"So this is it, huh? To make me the enemy of the entire city? Death… you'll stoop to anything just to erase me."
His expression darkened, voice dropping cold.
"But even so, I won't yield. Even if I have to slaughter this entire city… I'll play with you to the very end!"