Chapter 3:
Today was the day of the transaction.
The gangsters emerged with keys, unlocking cells one by one, dragging their captives into the corridor toward an uncertain fate.
Everyone understood what came next. Some wailed in anguish. Others fell to their knees, begging for mercy. A few resorted to threats.
The gangsters remained unmoved by it all. Cooperation earned indifference. Resistance earned electric batons.
Soon they reached Leon's cell. Jim was among them.
When their eyes met, Jim smiled viciously and drew a finger across his throat in a taunting gesture.
But he found no fear in Leon's expression. Instead, the prisoner offered him a bright, sunny smile.
It infuriated him.
"Get out here, kid. Today's your lucky day!"
Leon replied calmly, "Yes. Today is indeed a good day."
The audacity. Jim's expression darkened. He stepped close to Leon and whispered:
"You don't know yet, but I told Dr. John—your organ extraction won't use anesthesia. You'll die screaming in agony and despair."
Leon smiled mysteriously. "Perhaps you won't live to see it."
Provoked again, Jim didn't understand where this prisoner found such courage. But he'd had enough. He'd give this kid a lesson.
The boss might punish him, but as long as he didn't kill the merchandise, it wouldn't be severe.
He cocked his fist back and swung at Leon's face with full force.
He'd been irritated by that handsome face for too long. Especially that infuriatingly calm expression—he wanted to shatter it.
The gang members behind Jim didn't intervene. They watched with interest, eager to hear the prisoner's desperate screams.
But what happened next shocked them all.
Jim's fist stopped mid-air, unable to advance another millimeter.
Initially, they thought Jim was joking around. One of them called out:
"Jim, quit messing around! The deal's about to start. If you delay it, the boss will skin you alive!"
"Yeah, hurry up and beat this kid so we can hear him scream!"
"No, I'm not—"
Jim stared at the man before him in growing horror. His previously dark brown pupils had transformed into luminous blue. Even his jet-black hair had somehow turned pure white overnight.
Leon was smiling at him, but the cruel curve of his mouth, the mockery and amusement dancing in those eyes—it all confirmed that this was his doing.
What is happening?
A terrible realization struck Jim. Could this man be a mutant?
The gang members behind him sensed something wrong from his response. Observing more carefully, they noticed alarming details.
Veins bulged along Jim's forearm. His muscles trembled with maximum exertion.
And the closer his fist got to Leon's palm, the stranger the distortion became—as if space itself warped, refracting the light.
Something was very wrong.
The same realization hit them all. The prisoner is a mutant.
Inexplicable fear gripped their hearts. Seeing Leon's indifferent smile, they instinctively stepped back.
Watching Jim struggle futilely, Leon offered an encouraging smile.
"Come on, try harder. You're almost there!"
But his smile vanished instantly as Jim, overwhelmed by primal fear, tried to flee.
Leon couldn't allow that.
He still had a gift to deliver.
Energy surged through his body, dramatically enhancing his physical capabilities. Moving faster than the human eye could track, he seized Jim's head and slammed it into the concrete floor.
CRACK!
The sickening impact echoed through the corridor.
Jim collapsed, unconscious from the violent collision.
Leon wasn't finished. Using his enhanced strength, he stomped down on Jim's limbs.
The crushing force pulverized flesh and bone. Blood spread slowly beneath Leon's feet.
When Jim's right arm shattered, the pain jolted him awake. He screamed, thrashing helplessly.
But he had no chance against Leon's strength.
He could only watch as Leon systematically destroyed each limb, leaving him a broken shell of a man.
Leon turned away from Jim without another glance. The gift had been delivered. Whether the recipient appreciated it was irrelevant.
The remaining gang members stared at the blood-soaked figure in the cell, his cold eyes snapping them from their shock-induced paralysis.
One of them recovered first, shouting:
"His ability must have limits! Otherwise Jim would never have caught him in the first place. Shoot him! Bullets will kill him!"
The others reacted immediately. "Right! Open fire!"
These weren't amateurs. Battle-hardened and trained, they shook off their panic and raised their rifles.
Gunfire erupted.
But what they witnessed next plunged them into despair.
Bullets hung suspended in mid-air, trajectories twisting impossibly, unable to reach Leon at all.
The distance between them—mere centimeters—might as well have been the edge of the universe.
The Limitless Technique.
"Impossible! Why isn't it working?!"
"What the hell is his ability?!"
"If he's this powerful, how did Jim capture him before?!"
Their composure shattered. They pulled triggers frantically, emptying magazines in Leon's direction.
None of the bullets came close. Leon even had the leisure to position himself between Jim and the incoming fire, shielding his former captor.
He didn't want Jim dying so easily. Despair and suffering—that was the proper fate for him.
Leon turned his attention to the gang members, both those firing and reinforcements rushing toward the commotion. He grinned, a mysterious expression crossing his features. Raising his hands in a relaxed gesture, he brought his palms together, fingers slightly cupped.
"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue!"
Energy flowed through pathways etched deep in his soul. A terrifying azure vortex materialized before him, swallowing every bullet like a singularity.
When it reached critical mass—
BOOM!!!
The azure vortex exploded outward, surging forward at tremendous speed. Flesh, steel, concrete—all were consumed by its overwhelming gravitational force and simply ceased to exist.
When the destruction finally settled, every gang member ahead had vanished.
Not even fragments of flesh remained.