I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Gustavo's laughter died in his throat as Zafron's head suddenly snapped around. Their eyes locked, and Gustavo's smug grin faltered.

'Impossible, the attack was supposed to kill him.' Gustavo croaked, his earlier bravado evaporating like mist in the sun.

Zafron's eyes blazed red, burning with an intensity that made Gustavo take an involuntary step back. Gone was any trace of shock or sadness. In its place was a raw, unrestrained fury that threatened to consume everything in its path.

The red slime surged with renewed life. It darkened to a deep red, almost black, as it writhed around Zafron's hand. The air grew thick with an oppressive energy that seemed to radiate from Zafron's body.

Gustavo's eyes narrowed as he noticed a subtle shift in Zafron's demeanor. He raised his hand, the ring glinting ominously in the dim light. "You should have known better than to—"

His taunt was cut short by a deafening roar. A colossal wave of red slime erupted from Zafron, surging towards Gustavo with terrifying speed.

Caught off guard, Gustavo desperately conjured a blade, a flimsy defense against the oncoming onslaught.

It was futile.

The slime swept his conjured blade and his chest with the force of a battering ram, enveloping him in its viscous grip.

Before he could even cry out, the impact sent him hurtling backward. The wall behind him crumbled like paper, and Gustavo vanished into the adjacent room in a shower of debris and dust.

Zafron stepped through the rubble, his eyes locked on Gustavo's crumpled form. The once-cocky adversary lay amid the debris, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Zafron said nothing. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes spoke volumes.

"You know," Gustavo coughed, spitting blood, but continued his taunting. "Nothing feels good like—"

His words were cut short as Zafron raised his hand. A tidal wave of red slime surged forth, crashing into Gustavo with bone-crushing force.

The impact drove him into the ground, the floor cracking and splintering beneath him. Gustavo's scream of agony was muffled by the relentless pressure of the slime.

But Zafron wasn't finished.

With a gesture that seemed almost casual, he lifted Gustavo's battered body into the air. For a heartbeat, their eyes met – Gustavo's filled with terror, Zafron's burning with cold fury.

Then, with devastating force, Zafron slammed Gustavo into the nearest wall. The impact was thunderous, sending shockwaves through the room. Plaster rained down, and cracks spider-webbed across the wall's surface.

Before Gustavo could even draw breath, Zafron swung him in the opposite direction. Another deafening crash as Gustavo's body met unyielding stone. The wall partially collapsed, unable to withstand the ferocious assault.

The wall cracked and crumbled as Gustavo's body slid down its surface, leaving a gruesome trail of blood in its wake. Zafron's slime, pulsing with an otherworldly energy, held him pinned against the fractured stone.

Zafron approached slowly, each step measured and deliberate. The floor trembled beneath his feet, and with every pace, the intensity of the slime increased.

Its red hue deepened, taking on an almost arterial shade as it writhed and pulsated around Gustavo's broken form.

He tried to speak, his mouth working uselessly, but all that escaped was a wet gurgle and a fresh rivulet of blood.

One eye was swollen shut, a mass of purple and black, while the other rolled in its socket, struggling to focus on his approaching nemesis.

Despite his grievous injuries, a flicker of defiance still burned within Gustavo.

With trembling effort, he raised a hand towards Zafron. Whether it was an attempt at a final attack or a futile gesture of resistance was unclear.

Zafron paid no heed to the raised hand. He continued his approach, unperturbed, until he stood mere inches from Gustavo.

For a long moment, Zafron simply stared at Gustavo, his gaze as cold and unforgiving as a winter storm. The silence stretched, broken only by Gustavo's labored, wet breathing and the soft squelching of the ever-moving slime.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Zafron leaned in close. His lips nearly brushed Gustavo's ear as he whispered four words, each syllable dripping with venom and barely contained rage:

"Ever been to limbo?"

With mind-blowing speed, Zafron swung his slime outrageously at Gustavo's outstretched arm, cutting it down effortlessly.

Gustavo's eyes widened in agony, but he couldn't voice his pain, only managing to spew another round of blood from his mouth as he struggled to scream.

His cries were cut short as Zafron forced the base of his arm through his broken mouth, pushing it down until it burst through his abdomen, spilling his intestines onto the floor.

Eyes wide open and frozen, Gustavo stood with his own arm protruding from his abdomen, only the finger bearing the ring visible through his mouth.

Zafron then hurled him up and slammed him into the wall, pinning him with a series of slime blasts that ripped through Gustavo's face, making it barely recognizable.

Blood from his face and intestines poured to the ground.

Zafron sighed heavily, his anger still fueled as he sent another round of slime blasting through Gustavo's remaining body, leaving behind a gruesome mess of barely connected bones held together by tattered ligaments.

Suddenly a menu appeared before him:

[ Berserker mode deactivated!]

[Heart rate reducing to normal.]

Just then, Zafron felt a wave of weakness wash over him as he struggled to maintain his composure.

He fell to one knee, the toll of Berserker mode evident in his exhausted state. His heart rate dropped drastically, yet he found himself panting for air.

After a few moments, he mustered his strength and braced himself to stand. Slowly, he made his way through the room, back to where he had left Mara lying motionless.

As he departed, the hanging figure of Gustavo remained behind.

Zafron's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way back. As he turned the corner, he stopped short.

A figure knelt beside Mara's body – Matilda. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as she cradled Mara's lifeless form, now cold and still.

At the sound of Zafron's approach, Matilda slowly raised her head. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with tears, met his. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air.

"She's gone, Zafron," Matilda finally whispered, her voice cracking. "Mara is... she's dead."

The words struck Zafron like a physical blow. He had known, of course, but hearing it spoken aloud made it terribly, irrevocably real. He felt his knees threaten to buckle, but he steeled himself, taking a deep breath.

With measured steps, Zafron approached and knelt beside Matilda. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his touch conveying what words could not.

"I know," he said softly, his voice low and controlled despite the storm of emotions within him. "I'm so sorry, Matilda. I should... I should have protected her."

Matilda turned to him, her eyes searching his face. "It's not your fault," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You couldn't have known."

Zafron nodded, swallowing hard. He looked down at Mara's face, peaceful despite the violence that had claimed her life. With gentle movements, he reached out and closed her eyes.

"She deserved better than this," Zafron said, his voice thick with emotion.

Matilda leaned into him, seeking comfort. Zafron wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering what solace he could.

Just then, Zafron heard Cassandra's voice calling as she made her way through. "Zafron! Zaf—"

Her words were cut short when she arrived and saw Zafron's leaned figure beside Matilda, though Mara's lifeless body was obscured from view.

She continued urgently, "Zafron, you need to leave. The Enforcers will be here any moment."