Saving The Monster Race Starts With Breeding The Elf Village-Chapter 171: A Taste Of Blood

BRRRRRRRRRRRT!

The gun roared to life.

Bullets tore into the man’s belly, and the effect was immediate and catastrophic.

Flesh exploded outward in wet chunks.

Blood sprayed in a wide arc, painting the grass a deep, glistening red.

The man’s body convulsed violently, jerking with each impact like he was being electrocuted.

But Luca didn’t stop.

He moved the barrel upward, tracing a path of destruction across the man’s torso.

Ribs shattered. Organs liquefied.

The man’s screams were muffled by the gag, reduced to wet, gurgling sounds that were somehow worse than if they’d been clear.

The elves watched in frozen horror.

Some clutched each other. Some covered their mouths. Some simply stared, unable to look away, unable to process what they were seeing.

When the barrel finally clicked empty, the gun fell silent.

Smoke curled from the barrel.

And where a man had been kneeling moments before, there was now...nothing recognizable.

A pile of mush. Shredded meat and splintered bone. Organs pulped beyond identification.

The only part of the man that remained whole enough to recognize was a segment of spine, still attached to a piece of pelvis.

And nearby, lying separately, was the top of his scalp—the only remnant of his head.

The rest was just...red.

Silence hung over the clearing.

Then someone vomited.

"Blerghhh!!!!"

Then another. And another.

Elves doubled over, retching onto the grass, unable to stomach what they had witnessed. Others stood frozen, faces pale as snow, eyes wide and unblinking.

Some supported each other, trembling violently, fighting to stay upright.

Luna and Lulu held each other, both pale, both shaking, but neither looked away.

They had chosen to see this. They would see it through.

The older elves, despite their years and experience, looked equally shaken. Some gripped their chests. Some muttered prayers under their breaths.

Leona alone seemed unmoved.

Her face was cold, expressionless. She stared at the pile of gore without flinching, without turning away.

In her mind, she saw not the monster who had just died, but the countless young women he had destroyed. The daughters, the sisters, the mothers who had begged for mercy and received none.

She felt nothing for him. Nothing at all.

And then there was Nyx.

Her reaction was...different.

She stood at the edge of the crowd, and on her face was the biggest, most radiant smile anyone had ever seen.

Her eyes sparkled with pure, unadulterated delight.

A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her mouth, running down her chin—she didn’t even notice.

To her, this wasn’t horror.

It was art.

But of all those present, none were more horrified than the male elves.

For the females, this was a demonstration—a brutal lesson about the dangers of the world.

For the males, this was their future.

Luca had made it clear. He had told them, explicitly, that he would kill them.

At the time, they hadn’t taken it seriously.

They were protected by the Goddess, weren’t they? Nothing could really happen to them. They were carefree, arrogant, confident in their invincibility.

Now they watched a man be reduced to shredded meat before their eyes.

And they understood.

Every single one of them was backing away, faces pale as death, eyes wide with primal terror. They had made a horrible mistake coming back here.

A catastrophic, life-ending mistake.

Julius tried to put on a brave face. Tried to stand firm, to show that he wasn’t affected.

But his body betrayed him completely. He trembled so violently that he couldn’t keep his feet.

He had been closest to the execution, had felt the spray of blood, had heard every scream, every bullet impact.

His mind kept showing him images of himself in that man’s place.

He couldn’t stand. Could barely breathe.

Luca also noticed the males trying to creep away, to disappear into the trees.

He held up a hand casually, like waving to a friend.

"Hold on there. Don’t rush off." His voice was light, almost cheerful. "I still have one more brother to deal with."

The remaining human thrashed against his ropes, muffled screams intensifying.

He had just watched his brother cease to exist. He knew what was coming.

But to his surprise, Luca didn’t point the gun at him and instead placed it on the table.

"You know..." He said thoughtfully. "..the Tommy gun is starting to feel a bit...boring. It’s done its job." He glanced at the crowd. "Anyone have suggestions for what we should use next?"

Before anyone could even process the question, Nyx’s hand shot up.

"Shotgun, Hero!"

Her voice was eager, almost breathless.

"Please, please use the shotgun! Only a shotgun is appropriate for something like this!"

Without waiting for permission, she sprinted toward the case containing the shotgun. In seconds, she had it open, loaded, and was racing back to present it to Luca like an offering to a god.

"Please, Hero, please!" Her eyes were wild with anticipation. "I’ve been dying to see what the shotgun does to an actual person!"

"Shooting those clay pigeons is fun, but it just makes me wonder—what would happen if I shot something real?"

"Something that bleeds and breaks?"

She thrust the shotgun toward him, practically vibrating with excitement.

Luca stared at her for a moment, then chuckled.

"Well, when you’re this enthusiastic, how can I say no?"

Nyx’s face lit up like the sun.

He took the shotgun from her and aimed it at the remaining brother, who was now thrashing so violently that he’d rolled several feet, leaving a trail of urine and terror in his wake.

Luca then glanced back at Nyx, who had leaned in close, absolutely refusing to miss a single detail.

"You might want to step back." He warned. "This isn’t going to be neat. Look at me—"

He gestured at his own blood-and-flesh-spattered clothes.

"—I’m already a mess. You’ll ruin that dress."

But to his surprise Nyx waved dismissively, not moving an inch.

"I don’t care, Hero. Being drenched in the blood of such a sight would be an honor. I want to watch up close."

Luca shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

’Definitely crazy. Absolutely, terrifyingly crazy.’

But he respected the commitment.

He turned back to the brother, who had managed to raise one bound hand in a desperate plea, his eyes streaming tears, trying to beg for mercy through his gag.

But unfortunately for him—

BOOM!

The shotgun roared.

The man’s outstretched hand simply...ceased to exist.

Where it had been moments ago, there was now only a stump, blood geysering from the wound, bone fragments visible in the shredded flesh.

"Mmm—! Nnnnnn—!"

The man tried to scream, but the gag muffled it to a pathetic whimper.

And Luca didn’t stop.

BOOM! The other hand vanished.

BOOM! The right leg below the knee.

BOOM! The left leg below the knee.

He worked methodically, almost artistically, reducing the man limb by limb.

Each shot was deliberate and the shotgun’s spread tore through flesh and bone alike, leaving nothing but ragged stumps and spraying blood.

BOOM! The right thigh.

BOOM! The left thigh.

Four limbs gone.

The man was now just a torso with a head attached, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood, still somehow alive, still somehow conscious, eyes wide with incomprehensible agony.

Some of the elves couldn’t watch anymore.

They turned away, hands over their mouths, stomachs heaving.

The sight was too much, a human being reduced to a fragment, still living, still suffering.

But still Luca continued.

BOOM! The lower torso.

BOOM! The chest.

Piece by piece, the man dissolved into the same kind of mush that had been his brother. Until finally, only the upper chest, the neck, and the head remained.

Miraculously, impossibly, his eyes still flickered—the last light of life fading slowly.

Luca then aimed at the head to finish him off. But before he could—

"WAIT!"

Nyx’s voice cut through the clearing.

She stepped forward, hand raised, her expression one of desperate pleading.

"Hero, please! Let me do it!" She pointed at the remnants of the man. "You’ve had all the fun! Please, for the final blow, let me have it. I want to shoot him in the head."

Luca looked at the dying man, then at Nyx’s eager face. He shrugged.

"Why not?"

He handed her the shotgun.

Nyx received it like a holy relic, her hands trembling—not with fear, but with sheer, overwhelming joy.

The other elves stared at her, uncertain what to think.

They had always known Nyx was...intense. But this? This was something else entirely.

Nyx approached the dying man slowly, savoring every moment and instead of shooting from a distance, she walked right up to him, knelt down, and shoved the barrel of the shotgun directly into his mouth.

His eyes went wide with ultimate terror, while Nyx smiled—a terrifying, beautiful, unhinged smile.

"I wonder..."

She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"...what do shotgun pellets taste like?"

She pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

The result was exactly like dropping a watermelon on concrete.

The man’s head simply...exploded.

Fragments of skull, brain tissue, blood, and other matter sprayed in every direction, painting the grass and nearby trees.

Nyx was drenched.

Blood covered her face, her hair, her dress. Chunks of...things...clung to her shoulders.

But she didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Instead, she pulled the trigger again. BOOM! And again. BOOM! And again. BOOM!

She kept firing, reducing what was left of the body into a pulpy, unrecognizable heap. Each shot was accompanied by a look of pure, unadulterated joy—the face of someone receiving the best gift of their life.

The other elves stared at her with a new kind of horror.

The pile of meat on the ground was terrifying, yes.

But Nyx, covered in blood, firing into a corpse with the expression of someone receiving the best gift of their life?

That was somehow infinitely more frightening.

Seeing everyone’s reactions, Luca finally reached out and gently took the shotgun from her hands.

"That’s enough, Nyx. Any more and the elves are going to have nightmares about you instead of the dead guys."

Nyx didn’t protest. She didn’t need to.

She simply tilted her head back, looking up at the sky with an expression of pure, transcendent fulfillment.

Blood dripped down her face, ran into her hair, soaked her dress.

She had done it.

Her first kill.

The thing she had dreamed about for so long, fantasized about, craved with an intensity that sometimes frightened even herself—it had finally happened.

And it had been beautiful.

She then turned to Luca, her eyes still glowing with that manic light.

"Hero." She said, her voice almost dreamy. "Do you think...could you possibly bring some more humans? Some other criminals, perhaps?"

"There are still bullets in the case, and I think—"

Luca stared at her flatly.

Nyx’s expression shifted to a pout.

"You’re so stingy, Hero. All I’m asking for is a few human criminals. Just a couple. And you won’t even give me that."

She turned away in a huff, walking back toward the crowd—which immediately parted, elves scrambling to put distance between themselves and the blood-soaked woman.

The smell alone was overwhelming, let alone the sight of her.

But Nyx didn’t care.

She had tasted blood.

And she wanted more.