“What a sight.” The Butcher was entranced when he saw the number of clones filling the mosque to the brim. There were 3,748 in total. That was almost the same amount as all the clones he had ever made in his life.

‘Unfortunately, this is the end.’ The clones had stopped increasing in number an hour ago. His innate ability belonged to manticores, but it seemed that this was the maximum number of clones he could make.

‘Still, if I absorb all of them… Mm.’ 

He licked his lips and looked up at the sun peeking up from the horizon.

“Come to me,” he whispered.

Shaaaa. 

The 3,748 clones dissipated into smoke, filling the mosque with a hazy mist. The Butcher gently waved his hands, bringing in the abundant smoke to inhale through his mouth, nose, and ears.

“Gah!” He convulsed and gnashed his teeth. Blue veins protruded all over his body, and sweat dripped from him like a downpour. After ten minutes of that, the Butcher let out a smooth, light breath.

“Haaaa.” His blood-red eyes were half closed, and he slowly raised his hand.

“...”

He waved it through the air.

Baaam! 

The mosque’s floor cracked, creating a straight line that sliced through several other buildings ahead of it.

“Ha, haha…Gahahaha!” The Butcher grabbed his stomach and laughed at the top of his voice. He looked down at his hand with great excitement...