I knew it was likely I would die when I challenged the Eighth Butcher. “Hey hey! Lookit here—this town’s got itself some heroes.”

“G-G-Get out of h-here.”

Death, of a sort, became an inevitability once I became the Ninth. “Now isn’t this surprising. Still able to talk?”

“I-I m-m-mean it!”

“Y’know? I don’t think I will.”

“Die.”

"Ha! Why don’t you make me, you cocking suck—!”

What I never expected was to be talked to death.