The man tried to turn around, but he couldn't move. His body felt like it had turned to stone, cold sweat pouring down his face. His instincts screamed that the scythe of Death was already at his throat.
"You... who are you? Do you want money? I... I can give you money." The man spoke, attempting to move his fingers to reach the gun at his side.
"Kekeke... Money? Do you think I need that garbage?" A voice filled with malice and distortion echoed in the room, sounding like the voices of hundreds of people playing on a radio, warped and unnatural.
The voice filled the man with terror, causing him to tremble. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. After speaking, he realised his mouth was as frozen as if it had been sealed.
"Kekeke... Fear, despair, tremble before death, foolish human."
"Greedy, selfish—that is all you are. Death is the punishment for what you've done."
"Humanity, no matter how much money you have, that money cannot save you now."
