Demon Lord's Reincarnation

As soon as I said that, Jomar looked at me like there was a .0001% chance that I’d be joking at this very moment because to give a clearer image of how I stabbed his fucking hand, it wasn’t parallel or adjacent to the webbing of his fingers but completely sideways and stuck between his index and ring finger—where his middle finger was definitely out of the picture.

Furthermore, the only way he could pull his hand out of my knife was to pick a finger to further break, then ripping the rest of his hand even more, and hoping it hadn’t lost most of its function. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

But yeah, the guy might’ve grown himself a mustache for staring at me this long so I gave him a little preview of what’s to come by nudging the handle of my knife, burying it a millimeter deeper.

“AHHHHH— FUCK! F-FUCK! FUCK! HAA— HAA… HA… F-FUCK! SHIT! W-WHY DO YOU HAVE TO D-DO THIS?!”

I scoffed as I rolled my eyes, “I could say the same thing to you but if you can’t even do this much, we could stop wasting each other’s time and I’ll—”

“WAIT! W-WAIT! WAIT! I’LL DO IT! I-I’LL DO IT, ALRIGHT?! J-JUST— F-FUCK!

HAA— F-FOO— HAPFOO~ I-I’M GONNA DO IT! I-I’M—”

Right as he hyped himself up, the maniacal look on his face coupled with desperation was a little admirable, but as he tried to attempt how a knight moves in chess to get himself out of this tricky situation, all he managed to do from all his screaming was make him bleed even more without even completely breaking either of his index or ring finger.

If I were in the same situation, I’d take a deep breath before using my free hand to violently push or pull my other arm on either side to do everything in one go. I wouldn’t even attempt a clean break because, at that point, my hand was completely fucked and the only thing I could do for myself was to put all my energy into my first attempt than tire myself out.

But yeah, it was only good on paper—not if I was actually in that situation—but Jomar was so fucking out of it, his first attempt was trying to make a bigger wound channel from pulling his whole body away opposite me and the knife as if he was trying to cut a piece of bread with the fucking handle.

He completely wasted all that energy from screaming while he had this constant debuff of bleeding out—but he suddenly had this moment of brilliance when he discovered the knife I stabbed his hand with had his inch or two of a saw-like edge on the opposite side of the blade, right by the handguard.

Then again, this idea looked so fucking good on paper but in real fucking life, it’d be much, much easier to do my first idea than to saw his fucking hand off by moving his hand only a few centimeters up and down because he only had so much clearance.

If he didn’t bleed out from this idea of his, I bet he’d pass out first either from the pain or simply from bleeding out.

Though I did give him a little bit of help by pouring water from my canteen, but it was more so that I could have a clearer view—like surgeons would—because there was definitely a lot of blood blocking this particular play.

However, doing that after everything between me and Jomar was going on fucked something in his head as he never looked more thankful from that little gesture:

“T-Thank you, s-sir! I-I’ll never forget this— I-I believe I-I-I can do i-it much better now— I-I won’t fail you! S-See?! I-I’m doing it! I-I’M DOING IT! HAHAHAHAHA!!!”

As he was laughing maniacally while moving his hand up and down my blade, I felt a little unnerved to be completely honest, but breaking his mind like this did get him out of this predicament though let’s just say he went a little too far.

“S-See, sir?! See! I-I couldn’t d-do this w-without you! Y-You saved me! I-I’m finally out! I’M FINALLY OUT!

WAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Jomar never looked so happy as he waved his hand around—which was already missing three fingers—because the motherfucker just went to fucking war and went ahead on sawing half his hand off instead of at least saving his pinky—or even his ring finger by finagling-wiggling the knife at angles.

He didn’t have to completely rip the dangling parts of his hand off but he just did so to “appease” me, but like Quinn in regards to her time dominating men, I find it very off-putting or I’d immediately lose interest when the person I’m trying to have the most difficult time of his life enjoy it.

So the moment he tried to offer his free hand for a handshake to thank me, Jomar saw a brief glint of metal before his head slid off his neck.

I expected a lot more blood spurting out but the blood on the table could probably fill two to three blood bags if we somehow found a way to gather them.

In any case, I wiped my blade and knife off his filth before requesting a team to somehow find some use for his remains but with the amount of alcohol, nicotine, and unprotected sex he was having, the best use we’d have for him was to nourish our soil.

But yeah, at this point, I think that I didn’t have to waste any more time with Bordz because he was up next, and even though I would have loved to release some more of my anger and stress in the form of torturing the ones who wronged me, I felt like I should save a bit more of it to the actual perpetrator because he’ll have more than a knife through his hand the moment he discovered that today, out of all the times he could fuck up, he fucked up real bad by choosing this particular moment.