Novel Full Chapter 1127 Semester
Chapter 1127: Chapter 1127 Semester
Men and women huddled together, shielding trembling children with their bodies.
Some clutched each other so tightly their knuckles turned white.
A grandmother fell to her knees, praying under her breath.
Two small siblings sobbed loudly, faces buried in their mother’s torn jacket.
Bruno’s smirk widened.
"See that? You move one more inch and they all die! Every last one of them!"
Ross didn’t even slow.
"Do it."
His voice was soft, almost casual.
Then he smiled—calm, relaxed, unbothered.
"I don’t care."
The entire room froze. Even the air felt like it stopped moving.
Bruno blinked, momentarily stunned.
"Wh–what? You crazy bastard, I said I’ll kill them!"
Ross walked closer.
"Do it."
Bruno’s face contorted in rage. He wasn’t used to being ignored. Not here. Not in his kingdom.
"You asked for it!"
He swung his arm down violently.
"DO IT!"
The world exploded.
BANG!
BANG-BANG!
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!
A thunderous barrage of automatic gunfire erupted all at once.
Bright flashes tore through the dim room like lightning.
The recoil of weapons echoed like machine-fed war drums.
Bullets rained toward Ross in a dense, deadly wall—dozens per second.
Sparks flew as metal stormed through the air.
Powder smoke billowed outward, filling the entire space with choking haze.
Survivors screamed and curled into tight balls on the floor.
Children shrieked and covered their ears.
Even Bruno’s own men flinched at the violence of their own gunfire.
But Ross...
...kept walking.
The bullets reached him—and stopped.
Just inches from his face, the entire volley froze in mid-air, vibrating violently like angry insects trapped in glass.
The metal groaned, softening as heat surged through each round.
Their casings melted first, dripping like wax.
Then the cores liquefied into glowing fragments, falling to the ground with sizzling splatters.
One of the men stopped shooting, eyes wide with terror.
"H–he’s not human..." he whispered.
More bullets fell.
More steam rose.
The firing slowed as panic took over.
Ross finally lifted a hand—and flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his coat.
Bruno took an involuntary step back, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold air.
"W–What... what the hell are you?!" he choked out, stumbling as he tried to distance himself from Ross’s approaching figure.
Ross didn’t answer.
He simply smiled.
The kind of smile that told everyone in the room that their worst nightmare had just arrived—and the massacre had only begun.
"Me? I’m a person of justice—the one who makes things right in this cursed world," Ross said, his voice flat but echoing in the store like a death sentence.
As he raised his hand, shelves rattled.
A hammer shot off a rack and tore through the air, slamming perfectly into his grip.
Metal glinted under the flickering lights.
In his hand, it wasn’t a tool. It was an executioner’s weapon.
Bang!
Ross launched himself forward, the tiles beneath his feet shattering from the explosive force.
The nearest man didn’t even get a chance to scream.
Puchi!
The hammer came down like a comet. Skull, bone, and brain matter burst in a red spray.
The body collapsed instantly, legs twitching as Ross was already gone—already behind the next man.
He moved like a shadow cutting through a field of wheat.
Every swing was a life ended, every step a corpse left behind.
Limbs snapped, ribs caved in, spines broke with sickening cracks.
Men screamed, begged, tried to flee—but Ross was everywhere, untouchable, inevitable.
Blood misted the air with every strike, painting the supermarket aisles crimson.
"What the fuck! Kill him! Kill him now!" Bruno’s voice cracked, high-pitched with panic.
He stumbled backwards, waving his arms as his men opened fire.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Bullets tore through the air but froze an inch from Ross, hanging suspended like time itself bowed to him.
Dozens of abilities followed—fireballs exploding, wind blades slicing toward him, crackling lightning bolts, even shards of ice meant to impale him.
None of it worked.
The attacks hit his skin and fizzled out harmlessly, more like raindrops than weapons.
The bullets clattered to the floor at his feet.
The store grew colder as every man present realized the horrible truth:
They couldn’t hurt him. Not even a little.
Ross didn’t even bother looking at their attacks.
He simply walked through them, hammer dragging against the floor—scraping, ringing, promising death with every step.
Then he moved again.
BANG!
CRACK!
Puchi!
Thud!
Crunch!
Screams turned to gurgles. Pleas turned to silence.
A man tried to crawl away, leaving a smear of blood behind him—Ross stepped on his back, crushed his spine, and moved on without a glance.
Another tried to use his ability to fly up to safety, but Ross leaped, grabbed his ankle, and slammed him down like a sack of meat.
One minute felt like an eternity of carnage.
When the violence finally stopped, the supermarket looked like a slaughterhouse.
Bodies lay scattered, mangled beyond recognition.
Blood pooled between the aisles, dripping from shelves and painting the floor crimson.
Ross stood alone in the center, not a drop of blood touching him—every drop had curved around him, afraid to stain him.
Only Bruno remained.
Trembling. White as ash. Cornered against the shelf of canned goods.
His knees shook so hard he could barely stay standing.
The reek of blood filled the room, and Ross’s shadow fell over him like a death omen.
He had been left alive for one reason:
He was next.
"Fuck you!" Bruno screamed, voice cracking as he turned to flee.
His heavy boots clanged on the blood-splattered floor as his skin began to shift—darkening, hardening, turning into gleaming sheets of steel.
Metal crept across his arms and shoulders like living armor, covering every inch of him until he stood like a steel giant.
This was his pride.
This was why he led.
This was why no one dared defy him.
Guns couldn’t penetrate him.
Knives bent against him.
Even abilities from awakened survivors bounced off harmlessly.
But all of that meant nothing against Ross.
Bruno spun around with a roar and threw a monstrous punch toward Ross’s face—a blow that could smash through concrete.
Ding!