The chronicles of vomit weren't ending for Malthus.
First Sexis and now three random drunkards.
More than the red man, Malthus was now a rainbow man. Honestly, considering how he can't reproduce, the rainbow look fits him.
But forget that. Right now, beneath his skin, a crimson glow gleamed, spreading like an STD after a high school party.
The Heroes and Sexis were attacking Malthus non stop but I sensed that Malthus was waiting for something.
One of the three alcoholics was on his face and Malthus had stopped stumbling and cursing. He probably recovered from Sexis' vomit. No. Not probably. He really recovered from Sexis' undigested food.
"Hah!"
The man took a deep breath. A heavy, ominous sigh. Most of his breath went to the drunkard's body stuck to his face.
"Oh. I feel hot. Did summer came early this year?"
Yeah. For you.
The first drunkard still hadn't figured out where he was. He was clinging to Malthus' face like I did when I saw real boobs for the first time. My friend's mom wasn't very cooperative at that time if I remember correctly.
Anyway, after the sigh, the heroes and Sexis gathered near me. We stopped attacking, forming a polite little audience for Malthus' next horror show.
Sexis and Erect stood at either side of me as we watched.
I know that's not how you fight a war, but what can you expect from people who've lived in a slice-of-life story their whole lives?
They know nothing about war just like I know nothing about why an old woman started cursing at me when I snatched her seat during a ride in an amusement park. It wasn't fair that only she got to ride in that wheelchair for all day. I wanted to have fun too.
Anyhow, Malthus finally opened his eyes.
Couldn't see them, though—his entire face was buried under a man who still thought he was in a strip club.
But thanks to the sky turning into a livestream, I saw his bloodshot red eyes glowing like Satan stubbed his toe.
The rage in his eyes?
It looked like he just walked in on an orangutan passionately making love to a naked Sexis.
I know that's a horrible image. I'm sorry. But I can't help it. I'm on my periods. (Kidding.)
The drunkard on Malthus' face also saw those eyes and he acted just like I expected him.
"Wow. I asked for boobs and I got them. And they are glowing too. Nice."
He was drunk alright.
And he did clinged onto Malthus' face like they were breasts.
Anyway, that won't end well for the drunkard.
The man reached out for Malthus' eyes but before he could do that, Malthus raised his hand and held that heavy drinker.
Malthus held him in his fist like how a monster holds a tiny human. I just hope Malthus doesn't eat him. At least not in front of me.
"I'm flying!" the drunkard exclaimed, arms stretched out like a drunken Jesus.
But Malthus wasn't in any mood to entertain him.
So he just…
PLUCK!
Clenched his fist.
The alcoholic was no more.
Malthus turned him into paste.
And before I could even digest that—pun intended—Malthus licked his palm.
He just ate the man after blending him like it was part of his post-workout plan.
Then he looked to his left shoulder.
Time for the second drunkard.
This time, Malthus grabbed the guy's head with one hand, feet with the other—and ripped him in half like expired breadsticks.
Everyone gulped.
He was treating humans like wafers.
Though, he is killing them in a swift way at least.
After the second man, Malthus moved on to third.
He held the man with his hairs, making him dangle in the air, And then—then—he stared at me.
Right at me.
And while holding that man up, he tore off one arm.
Threw it at me.
Still staring.
Tore off the other arm.
Tossed it at Sexis' feet.
Then one leg.
And he didn't throw it.
He ate it.
All while never breaking eye contact with me.
Bro, don't look at me while doing that. Even Beater was better than this.
Then, he did the same with the other leg of the man and ate that too.
But the worst part…
The drunkard was still alive.
So much for "swift death."
The extent of pain that drunkard felt at that moment was surely something I could never comprehend.
If someone ripped my hands and legs by force, I would bite my own tongue and choke on it to kill myself.
Malthus dropped what was left of the man—arms and legs gone—right in front of me.
Our eyes met.
And the drunkard... he spoke.
"Give… give… me a hand…"
Oh.
"Sorry, bro. I only have two. Ask him," I gestured my finger at Sexis. "He has ten."
The man looked at Sexis up and down.
And then whispered, "Nevermind. I'm better off dead than getting those hands."
"Pfft.." Erect laughed.
"Why you little.." Sexis gritted his teeth but he didn't move towards the alcoholic. Malthus was near him after all.
Like that, after roasting Sexis, the alcoholic died.
No one moaned over his death as all of us knew, we could be next.
Malthus wiped his palms clean on his chest like a butcher wiping down his apron.
His gaze swept across the Heroes, Sexis… and landed back on me.
"Human king," he said.
"Yes?" I replied.
"I will kill you in the end."
"Oh. Thanks a lot."
Wait. Crap. Everyone's watching.
"Thank you my ass! I'll kill you first!"
Quick recovery.
Malthus narrowed his eyes.
"You are a joker through and through. I've never felt such disrespect, humiliation, and shame in my entire life."
"All three words mean the same thing. Don't make the word count unnecessarily long."
"Yes. This is what I am talking about. You are a joker. You don't deserve to be a king. That's why I made a decision."
Malthus spread his arms wide.
The red glow beneath his skin blazed like lava under a blood moon.
"That's why I've decided… I'll destroy everything here and start anew. I will become the new, worthy king!"
My heart raced.
My legs trembled.
My womb contracted. Wait, what?
Welp… I began ovulating.