Kami-Jutsu: The Yakuza's Son is Aware-Chapter 12: Mass Murder Became a Chore

There’s something entertaining about that primal fear in humans.

But... when I start imagining my loved ones in the same position, it gets harder to enjoy. It softens me and makes it difficult to end them.

She was stabbing my face with her short knife, over and over. But it just bounced off—repelled by an invisible layer.

Fine. Just this once, I’ll let her go.

I squeezed her wrist. The area beneath my palm cracked, ground down to its final form.

She let out a guttural scream and stumbled back, running to the kimono woman with tears flooding her face.

Ara? Were they related or something?

Nevertheless—

"Kill him!!" the woman roared, eyes flaring red with rage.

And just like that, the familiar bullet shower resumed.

Haaahhh. It’s beginning to get old.

I sprinted forward, channeling Kami particles through my legs to propel myself like a missile. Each step distorted the polished floor beneath me.

To the onlookers, it must have seemed like a shadowy blur—like a haze of black smoke zigzagging violently through their ranks, bodies collapsing in its wake.

With every slash of my hand, someone was gutted. Entrails hit the glossy marble tiles, slick and steaming. Every strike I threw delivered damage no ordinary doctor could fix.

The surge of power began to take a toll on me. Overusing the particles was draining. I could feel it—slight dizziness, a dull ache creeping up my spine.

So I ditched the wide scale attacks mid-run and shifted to raw, close-quarters combat. A colossal pain in the rear, honestly.

But I was surprised to realize something—my fighting skill alone was leagues above most of them. And for those rare few who matched me technically?

They couldn’t keep up with the raw force behind my blows.

I caught a pistol midair and threw it like a dart.

The result? The weapon shattered a man’s face, then plowed through three others standing behind him, before embedding itself deep into a reinforced wall panel.

I swept someone’s legs with a sliding kick—their entire lower limbs exploded into a wet mess against the polished tiles.

A simple chop to the neck cleanly decapitated another.

And when I pushed a man just to unbalance him, his ribcage caved in like cardboard and his spine snapped out through his back like a broken blade.

Every instinctive move of mine now had catastrophic consequences.

It made me pause for a second. Even though I was using Kamijutsu to reinforce my strikes, something else was happening. Somewhere along the line, my raw physical power had crossed over into superhuman territory.

I needed to start being careful. If not, I could easily crush a family member—or some random person—with a mere pat on the back.

I threw a punch at someone’s face, intending to knock him out. My hand pierced clean through his skull.

Now on the upper floor, I was still gripping the lifeless head of the man I’d just stabbed. His body slid from my arm with a wet thump.

About fifteen minutes had passed, and only half of them were down—maybe thirty-eight bodies on the ground so far.

Since when did mass murder become a chore?

Probably the close-combat thing. Slower, and more physically taxing and tedious.

But then—

My entire weight suddenly collapsed inward, yanked toward the floor like a ragdoll.

"This is where it ends, psychic boy!" someone yelled.

The man in a long brown trench coat stood nearby, one knee braced and both hands gripping a round, high-frequency device. Its pulse vibrated through the air. It was magnetized, binding my limbs to the floor and, worse, suppressing the Kami particles within a several-meter radius.

An anti-magic zone for my abilities.

Then I heard it—the heavy stomps of something large. The ceiling fixtures trembled slightly. Whatever was coming was fast, and heavy.

This... is going to hurt.

SMASH!!

The marble tiles cracked beneath me as the hulking bald man, another executive suspect, brought his foot down squarely on my exposed back.

Again.

And again.

Each stomp pounded into me with enough force to shake the reinforced glass panels of the penthouse. Bone-crushing strength in a Kamijutsu-dead zone. I was completely defenseless.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Then, as he raised his leg again for a final blow—

My hand shot up and caught it mid-air.

He got startled and leapt back.

"He’s a tough one. Yamada couldn’t have stood a chance," his deep voice announced.

The young man dressed as a butler brought out a glowing blue blade, inscribed with strange white lines across the surface.

"I suppose we’ll have to bank everything on this last wave," he muttered, glancing at me where I lay on the ground. "Now that he’s weakened, let’s tear him up."

The man in the fur-lined coat also brought out a strange-looking gun, one that seemed to vibrate with some kind of cadence, like it was quietly humming.

Where were all these guys getting this kind of tech?

More importantly—I was surrounded.

I gritted my teeth and pushed against the magnetic pull with everything I had until I managed to force myself onto my knees.

I picked up a small piece of marble from the shattered floor tiles and laid it in my palm.

Then, I extended one finger over it.

They all stared, confused. They had no idea what I was about to do.

Heh. I spit-laugh.

Aren’t they being too stupid as to let someone as dangerous as me move freely?