One day later, at the Hunter Association Headquarters building.
Leo walked through the main gates carrying Ashir, drawing countless sidelong glances.
But he didn't care at all, heading straight for the underground interrogation room.
During the return journey, Ashir had woken up a few times.
But every time he had just opened his eyes, before he could see his surroundings clearly, he would fall back asleep.
Leo's hands were very light and very fast.
He wouldn't die, he wouldn't be injured, he was just... very sleepy.
He looked at the limp man in his hand, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Soon, very soon, he would know the location of the Doctor's base.
Hunter Association Headquarters, basement.
The light from the incandescent lamps was piercing and cold, illuminating the entire room without leaving any blind spots.
The pure white walls had no decorations, only a large one-way mirror embedded within—one could see inside from the outside, but not the other way around.
Ashir slowly opened his eyes.
The blinding light made him instinctively squint. He subconsciously wanted to raise his hand to block it, only to find that his hands couldn't move at all.
He looked down—his wrists, ankles, and waist were all fixed to the chair by specialized metal shackles.
The shackles were cold and heavy, gripping his skin so tightly that there wasn't even a shred of room to struggle.
"Mmph...!"
He wanted to speak, but found his mouth was also sealed—a wide piece of duct tape was pressed firmly against his lips, allowing only muffled whimpers.
Ashir began to struggle frantically.
The chair made "creak-creak" sounds, and the shackles collided with the metal armrests, producing a harsh grating noise.
His body writhed violently in the chair, his eyes wide and bulging, filled with fear and rage.
'Teleport!'
His hands were firmly fixed; he couldn't use his ability at all and was unable to open a portal.
He was trapped.
Ashir struggled even more frantically, the chair constantly shifting on the floor with a piercing screeching sound.
A beast-like low growl came from his throat, veins bulged on his forehead, and sweat slid down his cheeks.
Just then— Click.
The door to the interrogation room was pushed open.
Two figures walked in.
Walking in front was Leo, dressed in white. His face bore no expression, his gaze calmly sweeping over the struggling Ashir.
Following behind him was Machi Komacine, his face carrying a complex expression. His gaze lingered on Ashir for a moment before shifting away.
Machi Komacine walked to the interrogation table and stood still.
He cleared his throat, his tone steady and formal.
"This is the Hunter Association's interrogation room. We have a few questions, and we hope you will cooperate."
Ashir paid no heed.
He continued to struggle frantically, his eyes locked onto the two of them, making "mmph-mmph-mmph" sounds, his gaze filled with fury.
Machi Komacine's brow furrowed slightly.
Just as he was about to say something else—Leo moved.
He walked straight up to Ashir without saying a single word or giving any warning.
His right fist rose.
And then—a punch slammed down!
Thud!
The dull sound of impact exploded in the enclosed interrogation room!
Ashir's body suddenly arched like a shrimp thrown onto the shore!
His eyes instantly widened to their limit, his eyeballs bloodshot, nearly bursting from their sockets!
A wave of intense pain swept through his entire body like a tsunami!
It wasn't ordinary pain, but a sharp agony that went deep into his marrow and tore at his nerves!
It was as if an invisible hand had reached into his body, crushing and mangling all his internal organs!
Ashir's whole body convulsed violently, his limbs fixed to the chair shaking frantically, the shackles clashing against the metal with a "clatter-clatter" sound.
Saliva couldn't stop flowing from the corners of his mouth, but it was trapped by the tape, dripping down his chin.
A "he-he..." sound came from his throat. He wanted to vomit but couldn't; his stomach was churning, and the mixture of nausea and pain brought him to the brink of collapse.
After a long time—perhaps a minute, perhaps five—Ashir had completely lost all sense of time.
The pain finally began to fade. He slumped in the chair, drenched in sweat, his body still trembling uncontrollably.
His eyes were red and bloodshot, saliva still hanging from the corner of his mouth; he was in a wretched state.
Leo stood before him, looking down at him with a gaze that was chillingly terrifying.
"Behave yourself."
His voice was very calm, so calm it was hair-raising.
"You answer what we ask. Understand?"
Ashir looked up, his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at Leo.
He didn't nod, nor did he shake his head; he just stared.
In that gaze, there was anger, resentment, and stubbornness.
Leo looked at his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
'A tough nut to break?'
He smiled; he liked this kind of tough nut.
Leo stepped forward, reached out, and with a "rip" sound, tore the tape off Ashir's mouth.
Ashir gasped heavily, greedily sucking in the air.
But his eyes remained locked on Leo, without the slightest hint of backing down.
Leo didn't look at him; he turned and walked to a table on the side.
A few things were laid out on the table—a stack of clean towels and a bucket filled with water.
Leo picked up a towel and walked back to Ashir.
Ashir looked at the towel, his pupils contracting slightly.
He didn't understand what Leo was going to do, but he knew—it certainly wasn't anything good.
"What... do you... want to do!"
He began to struggle frantically!
The chair moved violently on the floor, making a piercing screeching sound.
His body leaned back desperately, trying to get away from the towel that was getting closer and closer.
But Leo's hand was as steady as a rock.
He held Ashir's head with one hand and covered his face with the towel with the other.
The snowy white towel blocked Ashir's vision.
Everything before his eyes went pitch black; he could see nothing.
Ashir's body trembled even more violently, cold sweat constantly breaking out on his forehead, instantly soaking the edges of the towel.
Fear of the unknown surged in like a tide, drowning all his rationality.
And then—water poured down.
Splash—
Cold tap water was poured out, drenching the towel.
The towel was instantly soaked, clinging tightly to Ashir's face, blocking his mouth and nose.
The water seeped through the fibers of the towel, into his nose, and into his throat.
"Mmph—!!!"
Ashir struggled violently!
His body writhed frantically, trying to break free from the shackles' restraint.
His head thrashed wildly, trying to shake off the towel on his face.
Whimpers of extreme agony came from his throat, mixed with the sound of choking on water.
But Leo's hand still held his head, steady as a rock.
The water continued to pour; Ashir's struggling became increasingly violent, increasingly frantic.
His consciousness began to blur, and the intense feeling of suffocation struck again—
His lungs were burning!
His brain was screaming! He was going to die!
He was really going to die!
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Every second felt as long as a century.