After completing the first fight, I ordered the crowd to prepare for another round.

"Again!" I commanded, my voice slicing through the fearful murmurs.

I selected two people at random, pointing them out with an air of disinterest.

They came forward trembling, their faces pale with dread.

It didn’t matter if they were friends or strangers.

The outcome was always the same.

The chosen ones faced each other, eyes wide with terror.

Hesitation lingered for a moment, but the primal instinct to survive soon took over.

They fought with a desperate ferocity, each driven by the sheer will to live.

Blows were exchanged, blood was spilled, and the raw, unfiltered violence unfolded before my eyes.

One always died, their lifeless body crumpling to the ground, while the other was left badly injured, gasping and trembling.

The cycle was both predictable and satisfying.

"Again!" I shouted, my eyes gleaming with a perverse pleasure.

Two more were chosen, dragged from the terrified crowd.

The pattern repeated itself—initial reluctance, followed by a brutal clash.

Blood splattered, bones cracked, and anguished cries filled the air.

The victor stood, barely, drenched in blood and shaking with the realization of what they had done.

Over and over, the macabre dance continued.

Each round fed my growing sense of satisfaction.

There were a few who tried to run, driven by a desperate, frantic hope that they could escape. But they couldn't outpace me.

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My teleportation was swift, a blur that rendered their efforts futile.

I caught them easily, their faces twisted in panic as they realized there was no escape.

For these cowards, I reserved a fate worse than death.

Their bodies twisted grotesquely under my telekinetic grip, flesh tearing apart, bones crunching in a symphony of agony.

Their screams were music to my ears, a testament to my power.

Even those who survived the fights were not spared.

The so-called victors, thinking they had won their freedom, found themselves caught in my grasp.

Their triumph turned to terror as their bodies were twisted and broken, their cries echoing through the town.

Their faces filled with fear, their screams piercing the night, and the sheer dominance I exerted over them—it was intoxicating.

A maddening, euphoric feeling coursed through me.

The cycle of violence continued, an unending loop of pain and despair.

The town was soon filled with the cacophony of suffering, a testament to the chaos I had wrought.

I wanted to enjoy this moment longer, to revel in the absolute power and control I held over these people.

But I needed to move forward with my plan.

The plan to meet Agnus.

According to the information I had gathered, Agnus was trapped in the Dweller City Prison, and this town fell under its jurisdiction.

If I surrendered or got captured here, I knew I would be sent straight to that prison.

However, there was one significant risk: if I got caught by Nexus officers, there was a high chance they would execute me on the spot.

After all, the chaos I had unleashed was nothing short of a declaration of war.

"Then why did you surrender?" Dustin asked me, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

I smiled slightly, a hint of madness still flickering in my eyes.

"Because I believed in you," I said casually, a smile playing on my lips.

Dustin's eyes widened in confusion.

"What? What do you mean by that?" He asked.

"I mean," I continued, my smile unwavering, "I believed that you would try to know more about your son's death. And for that, you would prevent my execution."

He stared at me, his expression a mix of bewilderment and frustration.

"Hmm... but what use is there to that? You're going to be executed the next day anyway," he said, his tone hardening.

"Yeah, you're correct," I said with a nonchalant shrug.

Dustin sighed, a hint of regret in his voice. "Well, it is truly unfortunate. If you had grown up in different conditions, maybe you would have been a really great person. Anyway, thanks for telling me your last story."

He finished his sentences and signaled the officers.

I knew he was about to leave, but I couldn't let him go without one final twist.

"Yeah, maybe. But you know what, Mr. Officer?" I continued, leaning back with a grin that I knew would unsettle him.

Dustin's eyes narrowed in confusion, but before he could respond, alarms began blaring throughout the prison.

The officers around us tensed, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.

"This is not my last story," I said, my voice carrying a chilling certainty.

Dustin looked at me, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

Before I could reply, a voice crackled through the intercom system, filled with urgency and panic.

"Alert! Alert! All the prisoners are acting strange. They're all trying to escape."

The officers' attention snapped to the intercom, their faces pale with shock.

The room was a flurry of activity as they tried to process the situation.

I leaned forward, my voice a whisper only Dustin could hear.

"What's about to happen is my last story—my final crime."

His eyes widened in realization just as another announcement blared through the speakers.

"Alert! Alert! Agnus has gotten out of his cell."

The chaos in the room intensified.

Officers barked orders at each other, scrambling to respond to the escalating crisis.

Dustin's gaze darted between the intercom and me, a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes.

"You... what have you done?" he demanded, his voice trembling.

I smiled, a sense of triumphant satisfaction washing over me.

"This is just the beginning, Mr officer. You see, my plans were never confined to just my escape."

The door burst open as more officers flooded the room, their faces etched with urgency and confusion.

Dustin remained rooted to the spot, his mind racing to understand the depth of what was happening.

The cacophony of alarms, the shouts of officers, and the distant sounds of prisoners breaking free—all of it was music to my ears.