Kevin stepped forward, his boots grinding against the cold floor, his hand reaching for the man's throat. He needed an outlet for his frustration—someone to crush beneath his grip, something to break.
But as his fingers closed around the man's neck and lifted him off the ground, he hesitated.
The man offered no resistance. He hung in the air, limp, weightless, like a discarded toy forgotten in the corner of a child's room. His arms dangled uselessly, his expression blank—too blank.
Tsk.
Kevin clicked his tongue, scrutinizing the eerie lack of reaction. He exhaled slowly, pushing away the fog of frustration clouding his mind, forcing himself to think rationally.
"Where am I?"
Silence.
The man didn't flinch, didn't struggle. He just stared at Kevin with unnerving indifference, like a broken doll incapable of emotion. Not even a spark of fear, showing his unwillingness to open his mouth.
Unfortunately, Kevin is not someone who will care about it and back away at a time like this.
without saying anything.
Kevin's grip tightened.
The man's body convulsed as suffocation took hold, his limbs quivering under the pressure. His jaw clenched, muscles twitching involuntarily, yet still no true resistance.
Looking at the man's condition, now that the condition is right, Kevin decided to speak because when the oxygen supply got cut suddenly, the mind struggled to think straight, desperately trying to find a way out. making it easier to get answers.
"You live by answering me. Or you die right here."
"Tap my hand if you wish to speak."
A slow, sharp smile curled on Kevin's lips, an unconscious reaction. His glowing green eyes flickered in the dim light, though he remained oblivious to the transformation.
For a few agonizing moments, nothing changed, but just when he thought that the man would endure until the bitter end.
The desperate tapping began.
Kevin let the man go.
Cough. Cough.
Kevin ignored the man's labored gasps, his patience razor-thin.
"Now, tell me. Where am I"?
The man raised a trembling hand, signaling for Kevin to come closer.
Suspicion clawed at the back of Kevin's mind, but he still leaned in anyway, his body tense, ready for any action, his instincts screaming for caution. His heartbeat slowed, each thump heavy with alertness.
The man's voice barely registered—a ghost of a whisper in the silence.
"You're just a lab rat, you son of a—"
Crunch
AAAAAAAAAAAA
A guttural scream shattered the stillness.
Before the insult was fully formed, Kevin's fingers dug into the man's shoulder, applying barely enough force to snap bone—a sound reminiscent of dried wood splintering beneath a boot.
Agony painted the man's face, his shrieks raw and animalistic. His body convulsed violently, lips twitching between gasps of pain.
"Listen, I'm not in the mood for your useless chatter."
"Save the compliments and answer my question."
Kevin's face remained frustratingly innocent—his expression betraying none of the cruelty he unleashed.
"Hey—why aren't you answering?"
The silence persisted.
Kevin sighed, his expression unreadable, and casually placed his hand on the man's shoulder—a calculated display of dominance rather than comfort.
The man jerked in terror.
"W-wait! I'll answer!"
Desperation oozed from his trembling voice. Any semblance of resistance crumbled beneath Kevin's sheer strength. His chest heaved, sweat pooling at his temples.
"Answer," Kevin forced forward.
"I-I don't know," the man whispered, barely audible, but Kevin's enhanced senses caught the words effortlessly, processing every flicker of hesitation.
Kevin's eyes darkened. "What do you mean you don't know?"
His hands drifted toward the man's shoulder in tandem with his question, a deliberate, slow movement that sent another tremor through his captive.
"W-Wait, I am telling the truth. I was brought here while I was unconscious. I have not seen the sky in the last 4 months."
The man answered anxiously when he saw Kevin's movements.
Kevin said nothing, just held his gaze—an unrelenting force, sharp and weighing. His brow lifted, silent but pressing, watching as Roan shrank under the weight of his scrutiny.
"Then tell me about the weapon you used to attack me."
Kevin gestured toward the object beside them—a compact device with an unsettling resemblance to a metallic children's toy. Its small frame belied the threat it carried.
"It's a one-time-use weapon," Roan admitted, his voice shaky. "Used to eliminate failed subjects."
"Are there more?" Kevin's question cut through the air like steel.
"I don't know, except for the screen on the practice ground that demonstrates the use and scores of all digital weapons, I have seen this one for the first time in reality."
Kevin nodded.
"Good. Now start talking about yourself. Start from your name to everything related to this place."
"My name is Roan. I work here as a security guard, and I am at the lower middle in authority..."
Kevin barely acknowledged the useless introductory words but still kept his ears open in case something useful came out of his mouth.
His focus shifting instead to the man's clothes. He started rummaging through Roan's pockets, searching for anything useful.
Roan twitched—an attempt to resist his actions.
A single glare from Kevin was enough to freeze him in place.
Then, as Kevin sifted through Roan's pants, an unsettling sensation crept into the edges of his mind—a nagging feeling, sharp and persistent, like an itch just out of reach.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Like he was doing something unlike himself. something he would not do normally.
This feeling troubled him.
Yet every time he tried to grasp the thought, it slipped through his fingers, dissolving into nothingness.
His muscles tensed.
His breathing slowed.
But before he could chase the feeling further, his body jerked backward.
His senses screamed in warning.
Kevin's head snapped up, his gaze locking onto Roan.
Confusion morphed into shock.
Roan's body, once trembling with fear, now stood eerily still, as though life had been drained from him in an instant.
Blood seeped from every orifice—his nose, his mouth, even the corners of his eyes—trailing down in slow, morbid streams that painted his skin in a grotesque sheen of red.
PLOP.
His lifeless form crumpled onto the elevator floor, collapsing without resistance. Like a fallen leaf detached from its branch, he lay motionless, discarded by fate.
Blood began to cover the floor of the elevator, but Kevin ignored it and instead hurriedly put his hand on the chest of Roan.
With his enhanced sense, it was much easier to check someone's pulse or other condition with much more ease than with his stethoscope.
"His heart has stopped beating."
Kevin's face remained indifferent, his mind already piecing together the puzzle, assembling fragments of evidence like shards of a shattered mirror.
After analyzing all the things till now, like the different conditions of the floor of the experiment room in contrast to the observation room and the sudden attack on him just when he was about to escape from the experiment room, the completely empty pockets of this man in front of him were devoid of identification, tools, or anything useful.
And above all, his death due to unknown reasons, right when he started talking.
All points toward a single conclusion.
Kevin has already put all the pieces together.
"They want to buy time," Kevin concluded.
"I have to hurry."
If they needed time, it meant only one thing—they were waiting for reinforcements. And that was something Kevin couldn't afford to let happen, especially when he still knew nothing about his enemy.
This situation is very frustrating for him, but he knows that he will definitely survive through his adaptability.
Kevin's gaze flickered toward the lift controller.
Unlike a normal elevator, it has nine buttons, five shining with numbers from 0 to 4, while the others have -1, -2, -3, and -4 on them.
Kevin did not feel much surprise because he could understand the reasoning behind doing such a dangerous experiment underground; after all, how could there have not been people similar to Kevin? the uncontrollable experiment subject till now , right?
Kevin pressed the button labeled 0, his mind racing. What was the fastest way out of this place—aside from the main entrance?
His choice might very well be the worst one, considering security would likely be concentrated there by now.
But since he had no solid information on his enemy or their movements, what was the point of being cautious? Blind hesitation wouldn't get him anywhere. If a problem arose, he'd handle it accordingly—just as he always did.
Groan
The elevator gate let out a tortured screech, its mechanism failing to engage—warped and useless after the forceful impact of Kevin's earlier smash. The metal caved inward in places, the structure weakened beyond repair.
Kevin exhaled sharply.
Sigh.
"It looks like I have no other choice," he muttered, his voice laced with quiet resolve.
His gaze shifted upward, locking onto a small maintenance hatch near the top of the elevator—a narrow opening, barely noticeable unless one was looking for it.
Engineers and technicians used it for inspections and repairs, but tonight, it would serve a different purpose.
Kevin positioned himself directly below the hatch, his body coiled like a loaded spring. He buckled his knees, squared his shoulders, and raised his arms to shield his head.
A vertical jump. Precision. Strength.
"Hooo... let's go."