Belongs to Abigail-Abrams ————————————————-

Nobody would've seen it coming, not even Pigsy who's been seeing the signs of his foster son's depressive and on-edge attitude.

It wasn't exactly paranoia Pigsy would answer, but it was rather all the frazzled stress he gained from past events, discoveries of himself, training with the Monkey King, delivering noodles, defeating a demon every other week and hanging out with his friends?

Yes, even the densest of people can tell MK was on the verge of collapsing or about to blow up a city block or a person in a rageful fit of how his frustrations were getting to him.

Which brings us up to this point.

Loud police sirens blasted through the air, bringing an eerie reminder of what you've just witnessed alongside Pigsy and Tang. It was something you wanted to remove and erase from your mind but it cannot be done no matter how hard you tried. Standing next to the pig demon and the scholar—there you watched as MK lunged over the counter, throwing multiple blows into a now-dead male customer's mushy, broken face. And all because the customer was acting snobby and snappy, which caused MK to have an attitude and snap back.

MK’s once pale fulvous hands are now coated and caked by the fresh corpse's blood, decorating his hands, work shirt, and the side of his face in splatters of the metallic-scented liquid. Meanwhile, Pigsy and Tang were absolutely frozen, speechless, and quite frankly horrified as they watched the scene unfold and how MK’s fists colliding with the mushy fleshed face slowed down, while the young protege’s breathing was ragged.

Did he finally lost it?