Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Chapter 77

Jowe’s weapon slipped from his grip. A strangled sound escaped him as Lysander’s fingers tightened around his neck, cutting off his airflow. The speed of the attack left him with no opportunity to defend himself, his hands flying instinctively toward the wrist gripping his throat. He tried to pull away, but Lysander held him firmly in place while keeping Ingrid securely tucked against his other side.

Everyone in the room fell silent.

Several hunters stared at the scene with open disbelief, struggling to understand how Lysander had moved so quickly! They were been him closely, some with their fingers already on their weapons, yet none of them had managed to react before Jowe was caught. Even the technicians stopped moving for a moment, their attention drawn away from the ruined equipment by the sudden violence.

Jowe himself looked stunned. He had trained for years to improve his speed and accuracy, and he had faced dangerous opponents without losing his composure. Yet he hadn’t even seen Lysander approach. Now, with one hand wrapped around his throat and his weapon becoming increasingly difficult to hold, he was forced to confront the possibility that he had underestimated the man standing before him.

Lysander leaned closer. "Tell me something, Hunter," he said, his voice so cold that it seemed to drain the warmth from the room. "Do you think I can snap your neck before any of your weapons reach me?"

Jowe’s eyes widened further. Lysander didn’t raise his voice, and he didn’t need to. His fingers tightened just enough to make Jowe struggle for another breath, while his purple eyes remained fixed on the young man’s face.

There was no wildness in his expression, no uncontrolled expression that could have suggested that he was acting without thought. The terrifying part was how calm he appeared.

"Go ahead," Lysander continued quietly. "Try to pull that trigger. Let’s see whether your hands move faster than mine."

The hunters around them raised their weapons higher, but none of them fired. They could see Jowe’s throat trapped in Lysander’s grip, and they understood that even a slight movement could cause his death. Their training told them to neutralize a threat, but the situation offered no clear opening, and Lysander’s speed had already shown them how little time they might have to act.

Then the temperature began to fall. At first, it was only a faint chill that crept across the room, making the people nearest Lysander glance at one another in confusion. A thin mist appeared around his shoulders, curling through the air like smoke, while the breath of the nearest hunter became visible in front of his face. Within moments, the cold spread farther, settling over the floor and creeping along the edges of the metal equipment.

Several people shivered. The atmosphere grew heavier with every passing second, and the pressure rolling off Lysander seemed to press against everyone’s chest. It wasn’t simply anger. They had seen powerful Beastmen before, but the man holding Jowe seemed less concerned with the number of enemies surrounding him than with how much restraint he was willing to exercise.

Jowe’s grandfather finally recovered from his shock. "Release my grandson!" he shouted, stepping forward. "You ungrateful wretch! The Hunter’s Guild took you in and treated your injuries, and this is how you repay us? You come here, threaten our people, and attempt to kill one of our hunters after we helped you recover?"

Lysander turned his eyes toward the old man without releasing Jowe. A faint expression of disgust crossed his face. "Helped me recover?" Lysander repeated.

His voice was quiet, but the cold in it made the old man’s expression stiffen.

"If Ingrid hadn’t given you the Star Glow Herbs, would you have helped me?" Lysander asked. "Would you have spent your precious resources treating an injured Beastman if she hadn’t offered you something valuable in return? Or would you have left me in that place until I either recovered on my own or died? You could have even killed us on the spot."

Jowe’s grandfather opened his mouth, but Lysander didn’t give him the chance to answer.

"She gave you what you wanted," he continued, his gaze sharpening. "She provided the herbs and agreed to share what she knew about the zombies. Yet you still decided to strap her to a machine and force a memory search on her while she was injured. You knew the risks, and you proceeded anyway. Now you want to lecture me about gratitude?"

His fingers tightened around Jowe’s throat.

"Tell me, old man. What exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?"

Jowe’s face began to redden as he struggled against Lysander’s grip. His hands clawed at the wrist around his neck, and the gun he had been holding slipped farther from his fingers.

He tried to draw in a breath, but the pressure against his throat made it difficult, and his movements became increasingly frantic. The sound of his choking filled the tense silence, forcing his grandfather to abandon any attempt at maintaining a dignified appearance.

"Release him!" the old man roared. "I said release him immediately!"

Lysander ignored him. His attention had returned to Jowe, whose struggles were beginning to weaken. He could feel his pulse beneath his fingers, rapid and frantic, and he knew exactly how little pressure it would take to end the struggle completely. Part of him wanted to do it. The thought came with a frightening simplicity, as if killing Jowe would be no more difficult than crushing a branch beneath his foot.

"Let him go!" Jowe’s grandfather shouted again, his face contorted with rage. "Do you understand what you’re doing? If you kill him, the entire Hunter’s Guild will come after you! You won’t leave this place alive!"

Lysander’s expression didn’t change. "Then they can try."

The answer was so immediate and cold that several hunters exchanged uneasy glances. Jowe’s grandfather looked around at the armed men, his anger growing when he realized that none of them had moved to rescue his grandson.

"You’re going too far!" the old man shouted. "Put him down before you make a mistake you cannot undo!"

Lysander looked at him with eyes that seemed almost inhuman, even for a Beastman.

"You should have thought about that before you touched Ingrid."

Jowe’s hands slipped from Lysander’s wrist. His knees began to buckle, and his gun finally fell to the floor with a heavy clatter, his eyes were losing focus but Lysander pressed even harder.

Then a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Lysander!"

Nurse Maya hurried into the room, her face pale as she took in the scene. "You need to let him go!" Maya exclaimed, moving closer.

"Look at Ingrid! She’s unconscious, and we don’t know what the memory search has done to her. We need to check her immediately and find out whether she’s suffering from any complications. If you keep standing here fighting with them, we could lose precious time, and something might happen to her!"

The mention of Ingrid’s condition cut through Lysander’s fury more effectively than any threat could have.

His fingers loosened. Jowe dropped to the floor, landing heavily on his knees before collapsing onto his hands. He coughed violently, clutching his throat as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. His gun lay several feet away, forgotten as he fought through the pain and dizziness.

Lysander didn’t spare him another glance.

He turned his head slightly toward Maya, keeping Ingrid supported against his body. He adjusted his hold on her, careful not to press against her neck wound, and looked down at her pale face.

"Examine her," he ordered.

Maya nodded quickly. "Of course. We need to take her back to the infirmary, where I can check her injuries and see whether the memory search caused any damage. Please bring her carefully, and don’t let anyone interfere while I’m examining her."

Lysander started toward the door, but before he could leave, he paused and looked back at the people surrounding him. Finally, his gaze settled on Jowe’s grandfather.

"If anything happens to Ingrid," Lysander said, each word delivered with chilling precision, "you will all regret it. Especially you, Berthanon." Jowe’s grandfather stumbled slightly the moment Lysander called his name.