A bony cheek featuring a tiny scratch and a sharp, beardless chin appeared in Liam's vision before the jailer caught the fallen piece of cloth and covered his face again.
Liam's current pristine awareness also revealed something he usually missed. He saw the jailer relax completely and ignore him, turning without a care in the world, reassured by the fact that he had successfully applied the drug.
At once, Liam knew that another opportunity had arrived. He could exploit his apparent new tolerance to the drug to take the jailer by surprise. Still, he spoke before Liam could move.
"You are almost as strong as a foundation expert, little beast," The jailer chuckled. "I might have to start using my Qi to keep you in check from now on."
Liam had been about to pounce forward at that annoying laugh, but the jailer's words forced him to accept a sad realization. He didn't really know what a foundation expert or the Qi were. Still, Liam understood that the hooded man had yet to show his true strength.
Chances were that attacking now would only lead to another defeat, which wasn't even the worst part. Liam immediately acknowledged that his only advantage was his newfound higher tolerance, and exposing it would tell the Divine Cult to use harsher methods to suppress him.
Truth be told, Liam had no confidence in his ability to endure eventual harsher suppressions. After all, the drug had already worked for an unknown amount of time.
Actually, everything led Liam to believe that his newfound advantage was his true and last opportunity to escape his predicament, so he had to make it count.
"I'll see you in a few hours, little beast," The jailer chuckled again, turning to point at the left side of his face. "I can't wait to punish you for this."
Everything about Liam wanted to stir into action at that challenge. His right forearm itched, the anger from his newly processed memories surged, and a faint hiss even resounded in his ears. Yet, he didn't move, standing perfectly still, mustering a lost gaze and emotionless expression.
Luckily, the jailer didn't see anything odd, and for good reason. Liam now recalled how he acted whenever he fell prey to the drug. He wasn't good at pretenses, but his body remembered that habit the Divine Cult had carved into him and replicated it perfectly.
So, the jailer casually left, the stone door closing behind him and merging with the wall.
Liam's gaze instantly grew cold as it rose to that now-smooth surface. Warmth still spread on his face, but he wiped it out, ending up with a transparent ointment on his fingers.
As far as Liam recalled, that ointment would always dry out on his skin, so he made sure to wipe his fingers on the nearby wall to avoid exposing himself to the drug any longer. Yet, his cold black eyes remained on the invisible door, memories and calculations mixing in his brain.
'How do I kill him?' Liam wondered.
No moral conflict accompanied that question. Anger existed, and bottomless hatred tried to rise, but Liam remained cold and calculating. He tackled the issue through the only skills he truly knew.
Liam was a hunter, and the jailer was his prey.
Parts of Liam wanted to cling to the idea that humans and animals were different, that a man's life had more value than a beast's. However, he couldn't bring himself to see that anymore in the jailer's case, not as his mind kept reviewing his new memories.
The inhumane training had shrunk the group of kids to five, including Liam. He had even played a role in that process, bringing his total kill count to four.
Yet, Crazy Uncle had shown regret in his last moments, and the three kids had been innocent. Liam could regret taking those lives. He could consider them actual lives, but the jailer had showcased nothing but cruelty, even chuckling as the training led to casualties.
And, if Liam had to be completely honest, he was past caring. After what he had endured, he only wanted to escape. The issue of adding another name to his kill count barely crossed his mind at that point.
'It's just him, isn't it?' Liam considered, carefully browsing through his memories.
The memories' timeline was impossible to gauge, but Liam could confirm that he hadn't seen the white-masked man anymore after the first two encounters. Even the jailer had remained the same, showing no trace of the other hooded man.
'If it's just him,' Liam thought, looking at his right hand, making the same hook that had hurt the jailer before, 'I can find a way to do this.'
That was a gamble, but one Liam had to take. He didn't know if his assumptions were correct, but he had to accept that risk since his chances of escape would be null if he were wrong.
That optimism wasn't very hunter-like, but Liam had to accept that, too. After all, he was pretty desperate.
'I must kill him before he can use his Qi or whatever,' Liam pondered. 'Though I can't lay traps. I'm the only trap.'
In many cases, humans were physically weaker than animals, but they successfully hunted them nonetheless. Yet, that almost always involved deadly traps and a gradual approach.
Instead, Liam needed to kill the jailer in one blow to avoid facing his supposedly real strength, which was challenging without weapons or a carefully arranged environment. He only had his body and surprising tolerance on his side, and they had to make do somehow.
Liam's eyes widened at that train of thought. His gaze snapped at the wall behind him, focusing on the spot where he had smeared the ointment. He reached for it in a hurry, wiping it to bring the leftover drug to his fingers.
That ointment felt warm, but not as warm as Liam recalled, but that changed once he smeared it on his face. That sensation immediately intensified, as if being more effective due to the different location.
Liam's mind remained immune to the warm influence. No darkness tried to take over him. Actually, as the seconds passed and his skin absorbed the ointment, a faint rejuvenating feeling spread inside him, easing the pain on his belly that the jailer's punch had caused.
The development was confusing and problematic. Liam had half a mind to use that ointment against the jailer, but the effects on his body made him reject that plan.
Liam didn't know what had caused his apparent immunity and rejuvenating feeling, but he had to believe that the jailer shared those reasons. He could blame his core, but his prey had to have one, too.
'But if it's because of my core,' Liam considered, 'Shouldn't I have felt like this from the beginning? Did I just build tolerance?'
Liam soon shook his head. Those were problems of a free man, just like dealing with everything he had seen and done. Escaping took priority now, while the rest could wait.
'Smearing this on his face would have been a long shot anyway,' Liam sighed. 'He also covers it all the time, while I can at most land one good hit.'
Still, as that plan crumbled, another formed. Liam's limited options actually worked in his favor. He didn't have much at his disposal, so he only had to sort through the few feasible ideas, perfecting them until the best one remained.
'I know what to do,' Liam eventually concluded, looking at the wall with the invisible door. It would be challenging and painful, but Liam believed he could do it.
Moreover, Liam knew he had to follow through with that plan the next time the room opened.