Steel Soviet Union

The dagger stabbed into the lower abdomen was rotated left and right, back and forth like a screwdriver.

The female captive, who was almost fainted from the pain, was tied to the executioner's rack and could not move, while the executioner who stabbed the sharp blade into her lower abdomen and twisted it back and forth repeatedly was still enjoying it.

"Otherwise, I have to thank you Russian women. Without you, I can't enjoy every bit of happiness I have found from Russians so far, including the fun from you."

Puff——

The dagger that was stabbed into the lower abdomen and twisted back and forth countless times was pulled out in an instant. The ceremonial dagger that was originally like a fine craftwork has now become a bloody object. The whole body is completely stained with blood, truly revealing the evil nature under the engraved Nazi logo.

"You said your comrades are coming to save you? Very good!"

The action of grabbing the female captive's hair and lifting her up does not seem to be treating a fellow or a person at all, but more like abusing a dog and stepping on a bug.

"So they must be the best among you, right? Hmm?"

"To be honest, I tried to irritate the one I think is the most interesting, the Russian man. I am looking forward to what he can do to me. Why don't we look forward to it together? If he is really willing to come to save you, then maybe I won't need you and will just let you go. Isn't this something worth looking forward to?"

The female Red Army captive whose hair was grabbed had no strength to say anything more. Her weak breathing even made people wonder if she would not be able to hold on and die in the next second. But the eyes burning with anger and hatred were still trying to open wide and staring at the enemy in front of them, and a mouthful of blood and saliva splashed out immediately.

Pah!

"Hmm--"

The executioner who truly and clearly felt the "response" on his face was not angry or cursing. His satisfied and happy expression was really nothing to do with the performance of a normal human being.

"Look forward to it. I have prepared a very interesting game for you. The ending moment in the script will be quite exciting, huh?"

He loosened his right hand that was holding his hair, spun the blood-stained dagger in his hand, easily shook off most of the loose blood drops on it, and finally shot it with a crisp flying knife, shooting at the target on the spot.

However, the final target was not the tortured female Red Army pilot captive, but the body of another male pilot who had died long ago and was tied to another execution rack behind her.

The flying knife that came head-on was fair and powerful, and accurately shot through the center of the body's eyebrows, breaking through the defense with the sharp tip of the knife and directly inserted into the head of the body, just like a wedge being driven directly into it.

"She's still alive and useful. She won't die for a while."

"Treat her wounds. This is a key prop before the final chapter. It can't be scrapped before the start."

Accompanied by the executioner's order, two tall and powerful SS infantrymen immediately strode forward. They stretched out their arms, untied the straps on the execution rack, and put the person down.

Then, like dragging a dead dog, they took the "prop" that was tortured but still alive away.

"You called me here just for this? To watch you show how to kill people?"

"Oh, how can that be called killing? It's not killing if the person is not dead yet, at most it's just for fun. I asked my comrades to share the joy, isn't that a matter of course?"

""

Squinting his eyes slightly as if looking at a "familiar alien monster", Wittmann, speechless and in a complicated mood, didn't know what to say, but the executioner who didn't care about the blood on his hands didn't intend to shut up.

"Look, there are so many "interesting things" imprisoned in Berlin's Moabit Prison. If these things are taken back by the Russians, wouldn't it be a loss? There will be less fun."

Facing the humanoid creature in front of him that can no longer be called a "human", Wittmann, who is used to killing and life and death, but still can't stand it, can't help but grit his teeth and speak slowly word by word.

"You're a complete lunatic, Carl Heisenberg!"

"You were a complete bastard on the Western Front, but at least you were a bit of a human being then. And now, look at your behavior! If the person standing in front of me wasn't familiar and recognizable, I would have shot this devil who came out of hell to wreak havoc on the world!"

"Oh? Really? If that's the case, then thank you for the compliment~"

The grinning executioner was not angry but happy, and the expression on his face that made people speechless showed the purest and most primitive desire from the heart without any cover or reservation.

"Finally, this moment has come, the moment I have always dreamed of, the moment of being almost unrestrained."

"Why have I only heard of military laws and regulations, which have been repeatedly and tirelessly repeated by certain people; but have I never heard of the benefits of killing?"

"All that pedantic and stupid is a thing of the past. Of course, I like killing people, regardless of personal grudges or the greater good. There is no reason for liking or disliking them. But what can I do?"

"Killing, survival, being killed and turned into fallen corpses, this is the only truth of the land below you and me. As long as we stand here, we will be inspired by this law and be forced to abide by it, bathing in its glory. Down."

"Everything related to killing is just a simple bonus."

"I choose to enjoy it all and feel my truest self."

"What about you? How do you choose? Wittmann. Why do you have to be pedantic and unable to change yourself with the passage of time and changes in the environment? You and I both understand the survival of the fittest. This is the survival of all creatures living on the earth. It’s an immutable law that no one can escape, not even a guy like you.”

""

There was indeed a moment when he wanted to pull out a gun, but in the end it was limited to "having such an idea". Wittmann did not take any actual actions, and all he left behind was just a word of listening. It was pale and feeble, and it was even more deprived of any empty words that could be called emotions.

"Do whatever you want. I just hope you don't regret it when you die in the hands of the Russians."

Looking at Wittmann's back who had gone downstairs, Heisenberg, whose fingertips were still bleeding, just continued to smile coldly.

"We are all the same. I hope you won't regret it then, my friend."