My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 459: Killing Max

Seven days were now behind him.

Ethan positioned himself solo at the heart of the shadowy chamber, which previously seemed confining like a prison. At present, it appeared far too confining for his stature.

During that week, his form had expanded swiftly. The weak youngster once hauled into this spot was gone. He currently had the build of an adolescent, with a slim and sculpted body. Each action he performed was accurate and deliberate.

A see-through interface glowed softly within his sight until it vanished.

[Master: Ethan Hunt

Physique: 820 kg

Spirit: 820 kg

Talent: Infinite Comprehension]

He was close to exceeding James in pure might. The Black Bull Gang consisted mainly of lowly ruffians who depended on threats and sheer count instead of genuine strength. No superiors existed in their ranks, nor anyone truly exceptional.

In truth, Ethan had already turned into the mightiest individual in the group.

Pride did not fill him.

Readiness was all he sensed.

By the seventh day, the entrance to his quarters burst open abruptly. The frame groaned sharply, shattering the quiet.

Ethan directed his attention to the doorway.

Max entered ahead, his face strained with anxiety. Following him came a towering, wide-built fellow with robust, sinewy muscles bulging under his soiled garments. Despite the grimy and crude outfit, the firearm at his hip declared his dominance plainly.

Ethan examined him steadily.

Perhaps he leads the gang, he mused.

Max gestured toward Ethan, his tone laced with clear irritation.

"Boss, check out this kid. I've doubted things earlier. When I dragged him in, he was merely a toddler of two or three. Now he appears nearly mature. James surely understands this oddity. That's why he's concealed him here."

The figure Max labeled as boss stayed quiet initially.

His identity was Drek.

He scrutinized Ethan through squinted lids, assessing him wordlessly. Such unnatural allure in a person was unfamiliar to him. Even amid the squalid space, Ethan appeared poised and elegant. As if the surroundings hesitated to blemish him.

Moments later, Drek uttered his first words.

"Any hidden truths about you?"

Ethan offered no reply. Explaining to one who would soon perish or submit held no value. Concealment's era had ended. The moment to seize control of the gang had arrived.

He advanced one pace, materializing right before them.

"Damn," Drek whispered, his gaze expanding in dread. His palm darted to his side, yet another acted swifter. Ethan's grip seized the armament beforehand, and through a blur of rapid motions, the pistol disassembled in his grasp. The fragments dropped with a clink to the ground.

"Greetings, Drek," Ethan stated, a serene grin forming on his features. "Pleasure to encounter you."

Max had toppled onto his rear, retreating across the surface like a scuttling crustacean. Drek remained immobile, perspiration forming on his brow.

"Wh... what are you?" Drek stammered, his tone fracturing from terror.

"My identity holds no relevance," Ethan responded. "Starting today, I'm assuming command of the Black Bull Gang. For survival, serve under me."

Drek fixed his stare on him extendedly. Subsequently, a chilly smirk emerged on his mouth.

"The Black Bull Gang isn't standalone," Drek declared. "A much fiercer entity oversees us. You've got promise. Become an official member. I'll appoint you as vice leader."

Slash.

The noise blended dampness with keenness.

Drek’s digit vanished. Instantly it existed, then it whirled airborne, leaving a slender blood helix in its wake. The digit hit the ground with a moist thump.

Crimson surged from the remnant, a dense, throbbing flow that dotted Drek’s trousers. He gazed at his limb, then at the vivid, raw flesh exposing bone and sinew.

Ethan stooped, retrieving the detached digit. He flung it at Drek, where it rebounded from the man's torso.

"I demanded obedience, not your lecture," Ethan intoned. "Speak irrelevantly once more, and your skull follows next."

Drek’s complexion drained to pallor. Agony now gripped him fiercely, weakening his stance. He pressed his injured palm to his torso, crimson still seeping through his digits.

"Depart now," Ethan pressed on, "and summon every gang affiliate. Flee if you wish, Drek. But witness this beforehand."

His gaze turned to Max.

Max lingered on the ground, spine flush against the barrier. Spotting Ethan's focus, comprehension dawned on the impending fate. Recollections of his deeds since delivering the infant flooded him. He parted his lips to plead, yet prior to any utterance, Ethan loomed near.

Ethan’s grasp encircled Max’s windpipe, digits embedding into yielding tissue to silence all noise. Max’s orbs protruded, limbs thrashing futilely on the surface. His palms rose to rake Ethan’s limb, but nails shattered against unyielding hide.

Next, Ethan’s alternate palm ascended, seizing the flesh of Max’s visage.

His digits located the boundary where dermis joined mandible, burrowing beneath. They glided amid the skin layer and underlying sinew. Max’s eyes swirled madly as the inconceivable pull of his countenance detaching from bone registered.

Ethan commenced tugging.

The dermis extended initially, yielding like elastic. Then it surrendered amid a sodden rend. It stripped from the sublayer, unveiling the shiny crimson strands of Max’s countenance sinews. Max sought to wail, yet his larynx remained compressed. Only a moist bubbling emerged from his bared lip matter.

Crimson flowed presently. Slender at onset, it thickened with ruptured vessels. It cascaded over Max’s features in layers, mingling with dribbling spittle from his open maw. His orbs endured unscathed, peering from a visage gradually dismantled.

Ethan drew consistently, akin to doffing a mitt. The forehead dermis followed, lifting with brows in tow. Subsequently, the crown dermis detached, locks clinging as the entirety retracted. The audio persisted, a sodden tear accented by sporadic ligament cracks.

Max’s frame spasmed fiercely. Limbs flailed, extensions waved aloft. His cries devolved to moist effervescence from an orifice now mere bared sinew. Dentition leered from what was once a countenance.

Crimson saturated the area. It gathered on the surface encircling them, viscous and somber, broadening in a leisurely ring. It flecked Ethan’s extensions and torso, yet he appeared oblivious.

Max persisted in vitality. Awareness lingered, sensations unabated as dermis gradually vanished from his form. His orbs followed Ethan’s countenance, harboring dread so utter it devoured all.

Max’s wails ceased. Not from demise, but unveiled larynx strands, dragged with cervical dermis. A mere damp whistle endured.

Max endured one surreal instant, resembling a being of uncooked flesh and bared skeleton. His orbs fixed on vacancy. Sinews jerked and spasmed. Cardiac pulse visible via chest's sheer sheath.

Then Ethan elevated his palm, descending it in one crisp strike.

Max’s cranium departed his frame with a moist snap, somersaulting airborne ere striking the surface and halting. The form lingered a beat, crimson erupting from the severed throat. Then it folded, tumbling into a steaming scarlet mound amid chill atmosphere.