After the failed poisoning attempt, the bar on Fenric’s wrist slowly dimd and returned to a calm green hue.
"It seems that after each failed hunt, there’s a cooldown period... before the next wave arrives," Fenric muttered, his brows furrowed in thought.
It didn’t take long for the police to arrive at the hotel.
The guests, aside from those directly connected to the deceased, were quickly dismissed.
A preliminary investigation confird that the victims had all been poisoned. The culprit: a potent neurotoxin—lethal enough to kill within ten seconds of onset.
Unsurprisingly, Fenric was brought in for questioning.
"Sir, what is your relationship with this woman?" asked a white police officer. His tone was clipped, and his gaze held a trace of hostility upon noticing Fenric’s Huxia features.
Racial discrimination was deeply rooted in the Cindralock Dominion.
"Friend," Fenric answered flatly.
"A friend, huh?" the officer pressed. "So why did she die from poisoning, and you didn’t?"
"Because I don’t like cheese-baked shrimp. Is that a problem?"
"Of course that’s a problem!"
The officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Sir, I suspect you’re involved in this poisoning case. You’ll need to co with us for further questioning."
Fenric’s expression remained calm as he turned to the hotel manager—who deliberately avoided his gaze.
"You suspect ? Do you have any evidence?"
"Sir, you’ll need to co to the station and cooperate with our investigation," the officer insisted.
"I don’t believe you have the right to do this."
"Oh, we do," the officer sneered, drawing his gun and aiming it at Fenric. "Sir, I now suspect you’re a terrorist. Get on your knees and put your hands where I can see them!"
Fenric’s eyes grew cold. He glanced at the bar on his wrist—it was slowly turning red. With a quiet sigh, he murmured, "I see."
This officer had clearly been tainted by death’s influence.
In the next mont—
A table knife flew silently into the hotel manager’s hand. Before he could react, an invisible force shoved him toward the ard officer.
It was Fenric’s Telekinesis ability in action.
Shunk!
The knife in the hotel manager’s hand plunged into the officer’s neck.
Blood erupted in torrents.
"Oh my God!" the manager gasped, frozen in disbelief.
The second officer imdiately raised his weapon. "Drop it now!"
Clang!
The knife hit the floor, and the hotel manager burst into tears. "Officer, I—I don’t know what happened. It felt like soone was controlling ! I didn’t an to do it!"
The officer didn’t buy it.
"Shut the hell up! On the ground, now! Hands on your head or I’ll put a bullet on you!"
Terrified, the manager dropped into a squat, complying without resistance.
But then—
Bang!
A shot rang out.
The hotel manager, still crouching, was instantly shot in the head.
The officer stared blankly at his gun, confused. "What the hell... What did I just do?"
Before he could process it—
Shunk!
A middle-aged woman stabbed the back of the officer’s head with a dinner fork.
"Aaahhh!!" she scread as the officer collapsed in a pool of blood. The woman’s body went limp, and she fainted from terror.
Silence fell.
The restaurant was utterly still.
Guests and staff stood frozen in disbelief.
What the hell just happened?
First, Officer A threatened a dinner without evidence.
Then the hotel manager stabbed the officer to death.
Next, Officer B shot the hotel manager.
Finally, a middle-aged woman went berserk and killed Officer B.
Everyone was utterly baffled. Who were these people? What grudges did they hold? Why this chaotic spiral of death?
Only Fenric remained calm.
Because everything that just occurred had been orchestrated by his Telekinesis powers.
He glanced down. The bar on his wrist had returned to green.
With a faint smile, he turned and exited the hotel.
Outside, he took a breath of fresh air.
The hotel was no longer a safe place. Two officers had been killed, and soon the entire area would be swarming with law enforcent.
Fenric wasn’t afraid—just didn’t see the point in lingering.
A taxi pulled up as he raised his hand.
"Where to, buddy?" the driver asked.
"ntal hospital."
The driver gave him a sideways glance but didn’t ask questions.
Twenty minutes passed.
They still hadn’t arrived.
Not because the driver was stalling, but because ntal institutions were often built in isolated areas.
Fenric frowned.
The bar on his wrist had begun to change color again.
"Another chase already? Just because I escaped for five days, the god of death wants to cram them in all at once?" he thought.
"How long until we get there?" Fenric asked.
"From where you started? About 25 kiloters. If there’s no traffic, maybe ten minutes."
"You’d better speed up. For your own good," Fenric said calmly.
The driver gave him a puzzled look, but said nothing.
Five minutes later—
The bar on Fenric’s wrist had turned deep red.
Without hesitation, he activated his Armant Haki, covering his entire body in hardened force.
The driver humd an English song, oblivious to the impending danger.
Beep!
As the taxi crossed an intersection, a massive truck suddenly veered out of control—heading straight toward them.
BOOM—!!
The impact was earthshaking.
The truck plowed into the taxi, crushing it against a wall.
CRASH!
Another violent jolt as the truck finally stopped.
What was once a taxi was now mangled scrap.
Pedestrians nearby scread in horror. A crash that bad—surely no one survived.
Then—
From the crumpled wreckage, a young man stepped out.
His clothes were torn, but not a single scratch marred his body.
The crowd stared, dumbfounded.
A miracle?
Or sothing far stranger?
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