Chapter 170: Why a matched feeling?

The man woke with a violent gasp.

His arms immediately jerked upward, kicking his legs. It was a pathetic struggle on his part, really.

His body twisted against the restraints with every ounce of strength he had.

The metallic cables groaned under the force.

His breathing became frantic.

"W-What the hell—?!"

He looked wildly around the room.

The last thing he remembers is being knocked out by that person and now, he is between unfamiliar walls.

His teammate were lying nearby, still unconscious.

Before panic could fully settle in, a heavy boot descended onto his shin.

CRACK.

The reinforced armor dented inward, which made the man scream.

The sound echoed throughout the room, gis body convulsing violently as he tried to pull his leg away, but there was nowhere to go.

The restraints around his torso held him tightly against the chair.

He clawed desperately at Myles’ armored leg, trying to shove it aside.

It didn’t move even a millimeter.

Myles hadn’t even shifted his weight yet.

The captive stared upward. Only those unnervingly still blue lights inside the helmet stared back at him.

Myles spoke calmly.

"Stay still."

The man screamed again.

Nearby, Estelle finally stepped out of the changing chamber.

Mechanical arms retracted behind her as the last section of armor locked into place around her body.

She stretched lazily, a yawn escaping her.

Stopping beside Myles, she tilted her head.

"...I’m curious."

She looked down at the trembling captive.

"Does Ren’s current base have any torture equipment?"

"What...? Who the hell are you people?!"

Myles slowly shifted more of his body weight onto the boot resting over the man’s leg.

CRRRRRRK.

The already-damaged armor folded inward.

Beneath it, there was his real leg.

The pressure continued until the armor no longer protected anything.

The man let out another bloodcurdling scream.

His voice cracked midway through it.

Myles looked down at him.

"Answer."

The prisoner grit his teeth.

Blood appeared between them.

"I, I won’t tell you a damn thing—"

SNAP.

Myles calmly twisted his foot.

The man’s calf bent sideways with a sickening crack.

The scream that followed was almost inhuman.

Tears flooded from his eyes instantly.

His entire body shook uncontrollably.

His breathing dissolved into broken gasps.

Most people knew second-generation hybrids as monsters, creatures who could shrug off physical pain, but that wasn’t true.

They felt pain exactly the same.

Sometimes even more intensely, depending on their body composition.

Their bodies were tougher, not their nerves.

The degree of enhancement depended entirely on whose alien DNA they had inherited.

Not every second generation had really overwhelming physical abilities.

Some specialized in vision.

Others in hearing.

Others in regeneration.

Strength varied enormously.

And unfortunately for the man beneath him, he hadn’t inherited the body of someone like Myles.

Or Alexis.

Or Zlatan.

He was durable enough to survive, but durable enough to ignore his calf almost being completely cut off from the rest of his body.

Still crying, the captive suddenly laughed.

It came out as a pathetic, wheezing sound.

"...Heh, So you’re the bastard from that recording."

He forced himself upright just enough to spit.

The saliva landed uselessly against Myles’ armored boot before sliding down onto the floor.

"The little...pet following you...will die."

He coughed violently.

His grin widened despite the tears covering his face.

"One way... or another. Maybe he’s already dead, who knows?"

Myles remained perfectly still.

His breathing stayed even, his posture never shifted, his voice never rose.

But something inside him tightened.

An uncomfortable sensation crawled beneath his skin.

It was a Déjà vu.

The words, they felt strangely familiar.

As though someone had once told him something almost identical.

Of course, rationally speaking, Ren wouldn’t kill Blake so easily.

Blake was bait.

Everything Ren had done pointed toward one main objective, dragging whatever second generation into the open.

Killing Blake before that accomplished nothing.

Logically, Blake should still be alive.

Myles slowly crouched down, placing one gloved hand on the prisoner’s shoulder, his tone unchanged.

"I’ll ask one final question. Answer carefully, this is the last opportunity you’ll receive. If you answer honestly, I’ll kill you quickly. If you don’t..."

His fingers slowly tightened.

"...you will regret even coming into this world."

His voice remained almost conversational.

"Everyone inside that building with Ren, except Blake, will die."

His grip tightened further.

"If you want to die painlessly, unlike them, you’ll have to earn it."

The prisoner swallowed.

For the first time, real fear appeared.

He laughed weakly.

"That bastard was given three chances. As far as I know he already wasted one on the very first day. He had to pay for it pretty badly."

Silence filled the room.

Underneath Myles’ helmet, a vein slowly bulged across his forehead.

No one could see it, but they didn’t need to.

The atmosphere itself changed.

The prisoner instinctively shrank backward, even if he couldn’t see Myles’ face.

Yet every instinct screamed at him to stop talking.

Instead, he forced another grin.

"Now I recognize you. You’re UD, a small fry who only crawls out of hiding once every blue moon to do something reckless."

He laughed again.

"You? Killing the rest of Ren’s people? Impossible, you don’t have the—"

A hand landed gently on Myles’ shoulder. It was Zlatan.

"Enough."

His usual smile remained.

"You’ve got what you needed."

He glanced toward the prisoners.

"We’ll take care of these."

Estelle cracked every knuckle on both hands one by one.

Tania rolled her neck until it popped.

The three of them slowly looked down at the four restrained captives, each smile looking disturbingly genuine.

The prisoner paled.

Myles wasn’t staying, which meant they were.

Without another word, Myles stood, then turned around, walking toward the teleportation platform.

***

Meanwhile, Blake sat alone inside the silent room.

His breathing had become strangely uneven, every inhale feeling oddly incomplete.

’I need the incentive spirometer..’

That wasn’t the only thing that bothered him.

Something felt wrong, apart from physically.

Like an invisible hand had wrapped itself around his heart.

His stomach churned, cold sweat gathering along his neck.

"..."

He lowered his head.

"Why am I feeling as if I’m going to die?"

It was as though his body already knew something his mind hadn’t realized yet.

BANG!

Blake flinched so violently the chairslammed against the wall.

Deli stormed inside, their usually composed expression had vanished.

"Hurry."

He grabbed Blake by the arm.

The ropes around Blake’s wrists were quickly cut.

Before he could even stand properly, he was being dragged into the hallway.

"What is it?"

Deli moved incredibly fast, down one corridor to another, towards the lower floors.

Blake stumbled several times trying to keep pace.

His mind raced.

’What’s happening? Why now? Are they going to beat me together? But, if they wanted to hurt me, why aren’t they putting me on that machine?

Deli shoved him inside an unfamiliar storage room, the heavy steel door slamming shut, locks engaging immediately.

"...Huh?"

He slowly turned around, the room was empty.

He had no restraints on after days.

He frowned.

’That person looked panicked. He rushed like that for what—’

What was most uncanny was the expression on that person’s face.

’He looked... excited—’

BOOOOOOM!!

The entire building lurched violently, the floor raising beneath his feet, then dropping again.

Blake lost his balance instantly, crashing hard onto one side.

Dust poured from the ceiling.

Metal groaned somewhere deep inside the structure.

"What the—?!"

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The lights flickered.

Blake immediately scrambled back to his feet.

"...That..."

His heart began racing.

"Love Tracker."

A translucent map unfolded before his eyes.

His gaze immediately searched for one person, one single red button.

There he was.

His breath caught.

Myles was right outside the building.

"Thank... goodness..."

The relief that washed over him was so overwhelming it made him feel sick.

His knees weakened.

His stomach twisted.

He actually covered his own mouth.

"...You came..."

For several seconds, he couldn’t move.

Then, his expression hardened.

"Activate strength buff."

Warmth surged through every muscle.

"I’ll Sneak for My Lover."

His presence blurred.

He backed away from the steel door.

Raised one fist, then punched.

Crash!!

The reinforced door ripped clean off its hinges.

It flew several meters down the hallway before crashing into the opposite wall.

Blake immediately sprinted forward.

No matter what, he had to find him.

The building shook again, concrete cracking overhead.

Chunks of debris crashed onto the floor.

Blake stumbled, but then caught himself against the wall.

Then, he heard a lot of loud footsteps coming his way. It was dozens of second-generation rushing through the corridor behind him.

"Find that brat, he can’t be that far!"

Blake instinctively pressed himself against the wall.

The skill concealed him perfectly, as always not a single person looked his way.

Every one of them sprinted past.

"...Myles..."

Blake bit his lip, resuming his run.

Finally, he was at the highest floor.

He approached a shattered window.

Outside, the courtyard had become a battlefield.

Concrete exploded beneath every impact.

Dust clouds swallowed entire sections of the ground.

At the center there was Myles, alone.

Deli attacked from the front.

Nar circled from the side.

Mori lunged from behind.

The three coordinated seamlessly, never allowing even a heartbeat of rest.

The building trembled with every collision.

Blake’s fingers tightened around the broken window frame until they bled.

"..."

He couldn’t go to him yet.

If he rushed in now, he would only become another distraction.

He slowly stepped away from the window.

"Deactivate I’ll Sneak for My Lover."

The concealment faded.

Now, he would wait, and as soon as an opening appeared, he’d move.