Inside the interrogation room, Jeremy sagged on the stool like wet clay; he was barely recognizable as human after the savage questioning. Thora stepped over, hooked the stool with her boot, and sat down as if the place belonged to her. He sensed someone close and lifted his head a little. Black leather combat boots came into his blurred vision, not Valen. He tried to raise his gaze higher to see her face, but his strength was gone. All at once, a hand seized his jaw and forced his head up. Thora leaned close, her eyes cold, the corner of her lips twitching with a blank, unreadable curve. "Kill me," Jeremy croaked. His eyes were bloodshot, vessels burst and swimming with red. He wanted it over fast. "Kill you? That's far too kind." Thora's icy voice made his body jerk. "I don't waste time. I'm not here to chat. And torturing someone for answers bores me." Her mouth curved sharply. "I like things direct and vicious." Before she finished speaking, Thora kicked him hard and sent him flying. He smashed into the wall with a harsh clang of metal against stone. Then he dropped to the floor. A violent cough ripped from his chest as his body spasmed uncontrollably. Thora walked up, set her boot on his hand, and pressed down. Again and again. Bones snapped with crisp cracks, like dry beans breaking apart, loud and pitiless. He felt every fracture spread, bone shattering bit by bit. The pain burned worse than dying, slow and absolute. Her boot shifted from his hand to his forearm, crushing down like a massive rock and breaking bone in sections."Ah!" His shrill screams filled the room. The soundproof walls held the noise, but the pain soaked everything. The guards had witnessed plenty before, yet even they stiffened, faces tight and eyes fixed forward by habit. Thora bent and grabbed his head, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Hypnosis doesn't work on me. Forget it." Jeremy tried to sneer, but it came out strained and vicious. "Ah!" Another surge of agony tore through him before he finished. A cold light flickered in Thora's eyes. "Hypnosis is dull." With that single line, his last line of defense collapsed. He had been holding himself together by sheer will, telling himself not to speak and hoping Valen would stop it. Reality offered no mercy.The next second, his skin swelled. Something rippled beneath it and moved, like insects swarming through flesh. Terror swallowed him whole. He thrashed wildly, broken and desperate. "What is that—ah! Argh!" His hands were destroyed, his body barely obeyed. He twisted and rolled like a trapped worm. Even the guards widened their eyes, chills running down their spines. The bulges multiplied, crawling under his skin in clusters and threading through muscle. Just watching made your scalp crawl. He wanted to scratch but could not. He slammed the floor. He struck the wall. He begged the wall to end him. Thora raised her chin. Two soldiers held him down. He went feral, screaming and spitting fury, "Kill me! Let me die! Thora get them out! Get them out now!" Thora glanced at her watch. He had about 20 seconds left. His mind broke, and she spoke softly, sweet and lethal, "Tell me everything you know, and they'll vanish." The crawling sensation did not stop. Thought disappeared. Instinct took over. "Fine! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!" Thora checked her watch again, a faint smile slicing across her lips. Perfect timing. Her eyes sharpened. The swelling faded. His skin smoothed out, leaving only raw scrapes and torn patches from thrashing. It looked as if the nightmare had never been real. Valen, watching through the monitors, finally fell silent. Only then did he understand Thora's approach. It looked savage, but from the very beginning, she was attacking his will—cutting straight to the core. Once his resolve cracked, she unleashed the unnatural, shattered his judgment, and left him guided only by instinct, a shell fleeing pain and grasping at relief. One mistake with that method could kill the subject. Thora clearly did not care whether he survived. Valen could not tell if he admired her edge or feared her coldness. Thora dragged the stool back and sat, looking down at him. "Talk." "I usually give one chance. Today you get two." Her voice stayed flat and cold. "Be honest. Don't play tricks. Or what you felt just now was only a tenth of what comes next." Ice crawled up Jeremy's spine. He shrank and shook, terrified. He would rather die than endure that again. "I-I'll talk..." His voice quavered as he slowly spilled everything. Thora sat motionless and listened, her brow tightening more and more as he spoke.