In the next room, the sight turned his stomach. Dozens of captives were still trapped in tubes, their skin pale and paper-thin.
Heart monitors flickered with the faintest traces—some barely moving, some already flatlined.
Hunter fed them the pill as well, hoping against hope. But nothing changed. No spark. No movement. Their bodies remained still, far too broken to be saved.
His jaw tightened, but he kept moving. I can't waste time on the dead. I need to save the living.
The section holding the newest captives was next. He slipped in and began untying restraints.
Among them, a frail boy gasped weakly, barely able to keep his head upright. Hunter took out a vial, tilting it carefully to the boy's lips.
Within minutes, the boy's breathing steadied, his trembling eased, and strength flowed back into his limbs.
But then the boy whimpered, shrinking away in fear. "Don't beat me… please don't beat me."
