"I can't decide if you're a standard idiot, or a very special kind of idiot."

Ethan watched with detached fascination as Agent Alpha's broken ribs and sternum began to repair themselves. The bones audibly creaked and shifted, like dents being hammered out of an engine casing, as his chest slowly inflated back to a normal shape.

Ethan immediately stomped down, shattering Alpha's right arm with a quick, brutal force. The bone snapped. Ethan watched. The regeneration process started, visibly mending the fracture.

He then shattered Alpha's left leg. The process repeated itself.

But when Ethan shattered the left arm again, the healing process was noticeably slower. The next time he broke the other leg, it healed slower still.

"You have a regeneration limit, don't you?" Ethan observed, his eyes cold and analytical. "For a moment, I thought you were truly immortal."

Ethan noticed something else: Alpha's skin and musculature around the healed areas appeared slightly wasted, almost demaciado. The man's uniform was tattered, so Ethan tore the remains of the shirt off, exposing his torso. He saw that with every rapid repair, it was as if Alpha's own body was cannibalizing itself. The process wasn't generating energy from nowhere; it was a profound, accelerated transfer of deep nutrients or vitality.

"Well," Ethan said, stepping back from the groaning, regenerating man. "After all that, you still haven't spoken. So I assume you genuinely can't feel pain, or at least you won't break. You aren't of much use to me right now."

He pulled a fresh magazine from his inventory and reloaded the pistol. He walked directly up to the prone Agent Alpha, aimed squarely at his forehead, and fired.

The bullet struck the target, and Alpha's body went completely limp, slumping onto the concrete. The rapid regeneration process immediately ceased. He appeared clinically dead.

Ethan watched the body for a full five seconds. The usual notification did not appear.

The System didn't register the kill, Ethan noted internally. He's still feigning, or the head is truly just a temporary shutdown point. Fascinating.

Ethan said nothing aloud. He simply retrieved the 9mm shell casing, turned away from the "dead" body of Agent Alpha, and walked toward the small, locked office where Victoria Sterling was supposedly being held. He needed to see what plan Celestial Garden was enacting next.

Ethan ignored the "dead" body of Agent Alpha and walked toward the small, locked office in the rear of the warehouse. He didn't bother looking for a key. He simply raised his foot and delivered a single, kick near the door's hinge. The door frame splintered, and the lock mechanism tore free with a sharp crunch.

Ethan pushed the door open.

Inside, Victoria Sterling was sprawled on the floor in a horrifying state. She lay in a shallow pool of blood and other viscous, unfamiliar fluids, looking utterly pathetic and disgusting.

Ethan did not feel revulsion. He only felt a profound sense of pity and sadness for the beautiful woman who had been reduced to this. He knelt beside her and gently touched her shoulder.

"Victoria? Are you alright?" Ethan asked, his voice soft, shedding his usual coldness.

She reacted instantly, springing away from him with a choked cry. She scrambled toward the farthest corner, covering her head with her arms, supplicating desperately.

"No more! Please, no more!" Victoria pleaded, her voice a raw, terrified shriek. "Just let me go! I beg you!"

"It's me, Victoria. It's Ethan," he said, trying to soothe her. "Calm down. Everything is fine now."

But she didn't register his words. Her eyes, wide and unfocused with terror, landed on his face. She confused him with her tormentors.

"You! You must be one of them!" Victoria cried out, pointing a shaking finger at him. "You must be his accomplice! Why did you do this to me? I only gave you the house! I had nothing to do with it! I'll give you all my money, but please, leave me alone!"

Ethan felt a sharp stab of pity. He tried to explain, tried to calm her, but nothing seemed to work.

[It's not working. You should try again, Master.]

Ethan sighed, exasperated by the system's pointless observation. You don't say.

He realized logic and gentle persuasion were useless against the deep-seated trauma. He moved swiftly and delivered a sharp slap across her cheek. The sudden shock of the physical contact snapped her out of her panic.

Victoria stopped screaming. She looked at him, truly seeing his face for the first time. Her eyes finally cleared.

"Ethan?" she whispered, her voice fragile.

"Yes. It's me," Ethan said. "We have to get out of here, Victoria."

She seemed to fully register the reality of her surroundings and the dead bodies outside. "The girls," Victoria muttered weakly. "The Dean's daughter—"

"I know. We'll find them," Ethan said.

She nodded faintly. Ethan grabbed a heavy, oil-stained tarp from the floor and wrapped it quickly around her. They started toward the door, but Victoria took only two steps before she cried out and collapsed, collapsing due to the intense pain in her lower body.

Ethan scooped her up into his arms and carried her out of the warehouse.

He walked toward the open door of the Mercedes where Alexandria was waiting, sobbing uncontrollably.

When Alexandria saw her friend's state—her clothes ruined, her face bruised, her body limp and broken in Ethan's arms—her heart shattered into a million pieces.

Alexandria rose, stumbling toward them, but before she could utter a word of comfort or apology, Victoria's eyes snapped open and locked onto hers. The pain, fear, and degradation transformed into a concentrated acid of burning accusation.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Victoria screamed, her voice raw and barely recognizable. "Don't you dare look at me!"

Ethan stopped, holding Victoria tightly.

"You! This is all your fault!" Victoria screamed, weakly pointing a trembling finger at Alexandria. "I told you! I called you! You saw the pictures! You knew what they would do to me if you didn't resign immediately, and yet you delayed!"

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