The man stared at Mihon and said, "You seem rather confident, boy… go to hell."
Mihon smiled coldly. "Confidence has nothing to do with what I say. When you possess the strength to back your words, you may say whatever you please."
The man laughed harshly. "What? Are you claiming you're stronger than me?"
Mihon met his gaze without wavering. "Yes… by far."
Rage ignited within the man, and he charged without hesitation. Suddenly, his hair thickened—blonde strands as hard as steel sprouted across his arms, legs, and torso. He swung a powerful punch at Mihon, but Mihon evaded it with astonishing lightness, his cold smile never leaving his lips.
The man took a step back and raised his hand. "The Hair Germ…"
Suddenly, razor-sharp spikes burst forth from the hair on his hand—like poisoned arrows—lunging at Mihon with blinding speed, yet they did not strike him. Mihon's movements were even swifter.
With a mocking smile, Mihon said, "You possess the Hair Germ… and yet you wield it so contemptibly. An ability like that deserves respect, but you treat it like a carrot gnawed by a toothless rabbit. Just answer me, and we'll be done with this quickly."
The man let out a roar. "I will not tell you, you insolent wretch!" He attacked again, coalescing a massive orb of spikes in midair and hurling it at Mihon. But every assault failed, for Mihon moved at a speed his senses could scarcely comprehend.
Fear began to creep into the man's eyes. "Wh… who are you? And where did you come from?!"
Mihon calmly brushed the dust from his cloak and said, "I told you… I came from the village. And you will pay for the years that were stolen from its people."
The man gasped, "And what business is that of yours?"
"I have no business… except that one of them wished to live in freedom. Is that not his right?"
After a heavy silence, the man said, "And what of it? Have you become a wish-granter now? Haha, you're playing with fire, little one… If I told you who owns these factories, you'd wet your pants from fear."
Mihon looked at him with an expressionless face and said in a calm yet knife-sharp tone: "What I hate most are those who boast of others' achievements. If you take no pride in yourself, you are a disgrace to yourself."**
"Now then, I'm eager to hear the name of this person who'll make me wet my pants."
The man retorted mockingly: "At least tell me your na—"
He never finished his sentence, as he suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream and collapsed to the ground. Beside him, his amputated foot thrashed in a pool of blood. He lifted his terror-stricken eyes to find a blood-red chain studded with purple eyes.
Mihon raised his hand as the chain retracted beneath his sleeve, but if one looked closely, shackles could be seen around Mihon's neck. The chain rose and coiled around the man's throat. Mihon spoke in a low voice that choked the life out of one's throat: "I'm the one asking questions... not you."
The man's face drained of color, his throat dry, blood pouring from his leg. He whispered, as if trapped in a nightmare, "What is this chain?… What is this power?… Who is this boy?"
Mihon asked him, stone-faced, "Will you tell me now… who owns these factories?"
The man trembled. "Yes, yes! Just… just don't kill me! It's… Lionehar… the Double-Star Revolutionary!"
The chain tightened around his neck, squeezing ever harder. Mihon said, "And how am I to trust you?"
The man's face turned crimson as he panted, "I have… I have documents… they're… in the control room…"
Mihon replied calmly, "Then let us go down."
The chain remained coiled around his neck, writhing like a serpent, and the man shook. "Do you promise… you won't kill me?" he begged.
Mihon answered coldly, "I believe I said… I'm the one doing the asking here, aren't I?"
The man fell silent and led him to the observation room. He opened a cabinet beneath the chair and pulled out a set of documents. Mihon read them carefully, then turned to him.
Suddenly, the chain began to unwind from around his neck, and hope returned to him, as if Death had chosen to postpone its visit.
The man said quietly, "Thank you."
But before he could comprehend what was happening, he heard the final words of his life:
"A life for a life, a soul for a soul, a body for a body… and wounds… retribution."
His head flew from between his shoulders and fell to the ground.
Mihon descended into the factories, where Youray stood alone amid the rubble, blood covering the ground.
Youray said, "The villagers who were detained… I've freed them. They're now at the large wooden gate."
Then he waved his hand and sent a purple stone flying toward Mihon, who caught it with ease.
"So this is the stone they extract from the mountains… Its smell is strange. What were they doing with it?"
Youray replied: "There's a room filled with liquid—apparently formed by melting this stone down."
Mihon said: "Don't worry about it… We'll burn the factories down immediately."
"Bone Germ..." "Chain Germ..."
Their attacks erupted, dancing through the space like raging hellfire. One after another, the three factories exploded. Within minutes, nothing remained but ash and debris. **Everything was over