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Whatever the case, Desmond was quite the foodie, essentially a natural glutton. Every time Desmond had the opportunity, he would seek to enjoy new dishes or simply eat one of his favorites again. When he visited other worlds, if possible, Desmond tried the local food; it was a small hobby of his, a small pleasure that made him forget about his worries.

Few people knew about this curious side of Desmond, and for poor Morales, it would have been better not to know about it. Because some details needed to be fine-tuned and countermeasures planned for various scenarios, the team in the city of Verimar spent two days preparing for the operation. Morales still remembers the moment he sealed his fate; if he had known that Desmond was a glutton, he would never have taken the initiative to take over the kitchen for the team. Even more, Morales would not have cooked anything from his home country.

“Another one.”

Without any shame or decorum in the world, Desmond held out his plate to Morales for another portion. Resigned to be enslaved in the kitchen, Morales refilled the plate with what looked like some kind of dark brown stew before putting a side of seasoned rice on the side.

Desmond looked like a hungry ghost, the food disappearing from his plate almost instantly, leaving Morales with an expression worse than crying, while Claire and Silvia seemed unconcerned.

Morales shed tears of joy when Desmond stopped after the fifth course; maybe now he could sit down to eat. Stretching his arms nonchalantly and satisfied, Desmond paid his respects to the chef.

“Fiuu, that was delicious; it’s the first time I’ve tried something like that. What did you say it was called?”

Now that he could join the table to eat, Morales was in a better mood and responded with pride. “The dish is named after the sauce that covers it; it is called mole. It is a very common dish in my homeland. Although it depends on who you ask, there are many versions of this dish in my home country; many regions claim that the dish originated there.”

.....

Desmond nodded with interest upon hearing the explanation leaving Morales slightly surprised; this was the first time he had looked at Desmond so naively interested in something. It was somehow different from when Desmond took an interest in weapons or work.

Amid an enemy country with which they were at war, Desmond’s group enjoyed a rare moment of peace and camaraderie as they shared a meal. Still, unsurprisingly, the warm and friendly atmosphere was short-lived.

Having finished a fair amount of ice-cold soda, Desmond gave a great, loud sigh of satisfaction; for a moment, he seemed just an ordinary man enjoying his food with great frankness. That image went out the window as the serious expression returned to his face.

There was no need for words; everyone knew what would happen next. That was why they had come to the city; that was what they had prepared for two weeks, which included the two days they spent in the city.

Claire, Silvia, and Morales formed a group that followed Desmond a couple of minutes after he emerged from their hiding place, while Revna slipped into the shadows, moving directly toward the first of his targets.

Desmond headed straight for his target without a care or caution in the world, while Claire’s group took a slight detour somewhere along the way. Desmond used the wind currents to sense the other team, and when he could finally confirm that they had reached their destination, he did the most absurd thing imaginable.

Right at the entrance gates of the Verimar City HQ, in front of the gate guards who were about to question his presence, Desmond abruptly removed the long trench coat he was wearing, revealing an incredibly stylish and dominant black and red military uniform. The gold details gave the uniform a different tone of presence, blending nicely with Desmond’s natural appeal.

If two things were off with his uniform, the first would be the military beret with a big metal wolf. The second was that the uniform Desmond was wearing was clearly the uniform of a lieutenant colonel from country F.

The scene was so absurd that it took the guards a moment to process it, and even when they did, they still found it difficult to accept the truth before their eyes. After all, who the hell would be crazy enough to show up at the front door of an enemy country wearing his military uniform? Fate was cruel enough, for that question would remain unanswered by the guards at the entrance; it’s not like the dead could ask questions.

Some people inside the building and guards outside saw Desmond carelessly walking past the guards at the entrance; a second later, both guards collapsed dead.

Against humans without any power, Desmond hardly had to make any effort; he could rip the air out of their lungs with just a little concentration and mana. That’s how cruel the reality of the weak was; for those who weren’t even in the one-star class, getting in Desmond’s way was certain death.

It couldn’t be helped; the world was incredibly unfair. Desmond had experienced it himself when he was played as a puppet by Katya. At best, Desmond was a slightly mighty ant against the Archangel of Balance.

In a way, the users fighting mere mortals was a complete abuse of power, which only worsened as the difference between their strengths grew. For now, Desmond was still vulnerable to high-caliber bullets and artillery, but that wouldn’t always be the case; when Desmond was strong enough to stand up to a tank without fear, would it still be fair for him to fight humans?

At the end of the day, all those moral issues were insignificant to Desmond, this was war, and the people within this headquarters were the ones who orchestrated the attempted murder of his family. As far as Desmond was concerned, these people’s lives no longer belonged to them.

Desmond sauntered over in a complete display of power and contempt, using the front door to enter an enemy base. Some might consider Desmond reckless and ridiculous for doing such a thing, but seeing enemy soldiers falling dead one after another, no one would think such a thing anymore.

This was what it meant to be strong. Being able to completely despise your enemies was a right only the strong had. This was as much a matter of pride and practicality for Desmond; for him, when you had the power to crush your enemies like ants, there was simply no point in being cunning or deceitful.

Such an absurd frontal attack was something no one saw coming, and Desmond had no qualms about increasing the death toll before any esper appeared to pose a threat to him. Using his new burst movement skill, , Desmond made his way through the HQ lobby, punching and kicking every high-ranking officer he encountered to death.

Administrative staff and secretaries couldn’t help but tremble in their seats at the sight of the massacre; some even urinated on themselves in fear, believing that they would be next.

It all happened too fast. Desmond’s brutality and speed didn’t allow for any defensive response; anyone who tried to call for help or reinforcements was quickly cut down. In less than two minutes, Desmond created a path of blood and corpses from the gate outside the building to the lobby.

Due to how these types of buildings are designed, the lobby was a point of high personnel traffic. Hence Desmond took his time massacring the high-ranking officers who were unlucky enough to be passing through the place.

With just a little effort, the crack of a snapping neck spread through the lobby, and Desmond, who was holding a lieutenant in his hands, was now wondering where to go.

Since this operation was planned to cause as many casualties as possible before enemy users arrived on the scene, Desmond didn’t have much time to lose. Desmond’s predatory eyes quickly found a cute but terrified secretary who wouldn’t stop shivering behind her desk.

The secretary’s face paled when she saw Desmond look at her with those demonic blue eyes, and when the secretary began to succumb to fear, thinking that she would be the next to die, Desmond’s calm voice reached her ears.

Desmond’s friendly smile turned sinister due to his bloodstained face, but his words were calm. “Sorry to bother you, miss, but could you show me the way to the command center?”

At first, it might seem that Desmond’s voice was calm and peaceful, but anyone who saw him covered in blood would know that his voice carried nothing more than a complete lack of empathy or emotion.