"Who are you? Who sent you?"

Ninety-two times. That was how many times Adam had been punched in the face. The goons took turns, their knuckles splitting against his cheekbones and jaw. These mobsters were absolutely relentless, not even resting as they questioned him. They didn't even care at all that their fists had become swollen and chafed.

Adam was fortunate that he was completely covered in blood. If not, then they would have realized that he was completely unscathed beneath the mask of blood.

These smugglers seemed to have misunderstood something—that Adam was sent by a rival crime syndicate to mess with them. He'd already said that he was just there at the wrong time, but of course, they didn't believe it at all.

"Come on, kid. We know someone's backing you." The larger of the two men rolled his shoulders, flexing his bruised knuckles. "Nobody takes down monsters like that without serious training. Military? Corporate? Which family sent you? You really expect us to believe you're just an outsider, huh? You motherfucker!"

Adam swayed his head to the side again as they gave their ninety-third punch. At this point, he had already memorized how fast they were swinging and could just turn and swing his head to make it hurt less.

He didn't bother answering anymore and just looked around. The two smugglers from the truck were now both dead, their bodies slumped in chairs across from him.

These people… they were killed because of me.

Wrong, Adam. Wrong. They were killed because they're bad people in a bad job.

They only needed to earn money to survive.

The same as you, Adam. And yet, you've never thought of doing jobs like this, have you? You had a lot of chances, and a lot of offers, and you never bit. Do not make excuses for them… They deserve this.

Adam shook his head off the thoughts he was having, taking a deep breath as he leaned back to his seat. The goons were still asking him questions, but he was completely ignoring them now and just decided to look around.

[Susan, The Limbcrusher.]

From afar, Susan conversed with one of her men, and from her expression, she wasn't having that much of a good time, either. She—

Ninety-four.

"Maybe he's one of them silent types," the second mobster said as they punched him for the ninety-fourth time. "Heard the Yakuza trains kids like that. Turn 'em into little killing machines."

"Does the kid look Chinese to you?" The first man looked at his friend like he was stupid.

"Idiot. Yakuzas are Japanese." And the second mobster also looked at him like he was stupid. "And why would they pick someone who looks Asian? The whole point of being a spy is not to be noticed!"

"Man, shut the fuck up!"

They punched Adam for the ninety-fifth time, and this time—

"Agh!" The first man clutched his fist, bending down from the pain as his skin slid right off. "Fuck! Just how thick is this kid's skin?! Are we sure he ain't a hero?!"

"The kid's probably one step away from being a Hero," the second mobster said. "Definitely dumped everything into Strength and Endurance to take a lot of beating."

"Shit…"

The two mobsters exchanged glances, their enthusiasm for beating him waning.

"Shit, my hand's killing me," one muttered, examining his swollen knuckles.

"Mine too. Kid's got a skull like concrete."

And finally, they stepped back, leaving Adam alone for the moment. He sighed quietly and looked around again, taking in his surroundings properly for the first time.

The mobsters had halos hovering above their heads, so he was right about them being inside a Leak. But… they were also inside some old, dilapidated building. Perhaps some sort of castle?

But from the moss-covered brick walls, the lack of sunlight anywhere—they were probably underground. There was also the fact that he was inside a literal cell. The bars, however, didn't have a door and looked completely weathered.

There was also an empty cell that sat directly across from him.

Did the smugglers make this... or was this already inside the Leak? Everything here looked… older than twenty years—if this dungeon was here before that, then wouldn't that mean—

"Well, well, well…"

Adam's thoughts were cut short when Susan started approaching, her heavy boots echoing off the stone floor. He couldn't help but stare at the large nose ring in her nose as it reflected the torches around them.

"Really not saying anything, huh?" Susan scoffed, grabbing him by the hair. "You think this is some game? We haven't even started torturing you yet."

Her grip tightened, yanking his head back.

"Maybe you'll start talking once most of your fingers are gone. Or maybe we'll work on your toes first. You already see what we can do to you," she said, looking at the two dead smugglers behind her.

This got a reaction from Adam—his eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating. Susan noticed this immediately, and her lips curved.

"Now, you're starting to understand."

Susan misunderstood, of course. Adam wasn't scared of the torture. Well, he was, but not for the reason she believed. If they started ripping his limbs apart, they would discover his ability. That was what terrified him the most.

"Ha…" Adam grumbled in frustration, meeting her gaze directly.

"I told you. I'm no one."

Susan's smile widened. "Still lying, little boy."

She raised her fist, and it began transforming, flesh hardening into gray stone. She raised it even higher, then brought it down onto Adam's left foot.

The sound of bones and stone breaking echoed through the cell. Adam winced, sucking in his breath as his foot almost turned into mush.

Susan cackled as she finally got a reaction from Adam.

"Such a beautiful sound, isn't it?" She leaned closer, her stone fist still pinning his mangled foot. "And here's the best part, kid—we can be here for days. And even if you disappear or die here, no one's gonna find you."

She gestured toward the two dead truckers again.

"Jerry's still on his way to process you and these two," she whispered. "We can't have the Nightraptor guild asking questions, after all. But of course, we also can't have the three of you talking to anyone, so… I used three of my other men who were willing to pretend to be you and go to jail for you."

Susan licked her lips, grabbing her breasts as she backed away from Adam.

"How loyal people can be if you give them the best fuck of their lives."

Adam's eyes widened again, and once again, Susan misunderstood his expression as terror. But Adam…

Adam was actually thinking how extremely convenient this was.

Did these smugglers… just help him cover his tracks from the Hospital?

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