CHAPTER 338: CHAPTER-338.

The mongoose looked at Kaya through half-closed eyes, his breathing shallow and ragged. Blood dripped from his mouth, pooling beneath him on the cold floor. His whole body trembled—not from cold, but from pure, primal fear.

And then, in one last act of defiance, he gathered what little saliva and blood he could muster in his broken mouth and spat it directly at her face.

Ptooey!

Kaya’s head tilted just slightly—smooth, effortless—and the bloody glob sailed past her cheek, splattering onto the floor behind her.

Splat.

She straightened slowly, looking down at the mess on the ground. For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then she looked back at him, and that playful glint returned to her eyes.

"Like, really?" she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

The mongoose glared up at her, mustering whatever defiance he had left. "If you have the guts," he rasped out, his voice cracking, "then just kill me! Do you really think I’ll speak?"

Kaya stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then she smiled—that cold, dangerous smile that never reached her eyes. She bent down slowly, deliberately, until she was at his eye level.

"Oh, really?" she said softly, meeting his gaze directly.

What the mongoose didn’t know—what he couldn’t possibly understand—was that none of the criminals Kaya had ever interrogated died during her sessions. Not because she showed mercy. But because she made their lives worse than death itself. They begged for it, screamed for it, but death never came. Kaya had a particular talent for breaking people, for hurting them in ways that kept them breathing but wishing they weren’t.

Without warning, she raised her fist.

WHAM!

The punch landed squarely on his ribcage with a sickening thud—precise, controlled, hitting with just enough force to send shockwaves of pain through his entire body without breaking the bones. Not yet.

"Ghuaaak!"

The mongoose coughed violently, blood spraying from his mouth as he groaned in agony.

Cough, cough, cough.

Kaya looked down at him, that same smile still on her face.

"It’s been a long time since I had a warm-up," she said casually.

With that, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing her forearms. Then she raised her hand again.

And the real beating began.

CRACK!

Her fist connected with his jaw.

THWACK!

Another punch to his shoulder.

SMASH!

Below his ribs.

CRUNCH!

His lower abdomen.

Punch after punch after punch. Face. Shoulders. Below the stomach. His lower parts. She hit him systematically, each strike calculated and deliberate. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room—thump, crack, smack—wet, brutal, unrelenting.

"AAAGHH!" The mongoose tried to scream, but the sound came out gargled, choked by the blood filling his throat. "Ghhk... khaa..."

Splatter. Blood hit the floor.

His face swelled with each hit. Whack. Crack. Thud. His eyes puffed up. Blood poured from his nose, his mouth, even his ears. Kaya’s fists found every nerve cluster, every pressure point, every spot that would maximize pain without killing him.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

She varied her strikes—sometimes fast and sharp, other times slow and grinding. Thunk. She’d hit the same spot twice, letting the pain compound. Thunk. Then she’d switch to a new area, keeping him conscious, keeping him aware of every single moment.

"Nghh... ahh... ghhaa..." The mongoose’s groans became weaker, more desperate.

SLAM!

The mongoose’s body jerked with each impact. His limbs twitched uselessly. He couldn’t defend himself. Couldn’t move. Could only endure.

Crack. Smack. Thud. Splat. Crack. Whack.

The sounds became a rhythm—a brutal symphony of violence.

Twenty minutes passed like this.

Twenty long, brutal minutes.

By the end, the mongoose looked like something dragged behind a cart for miles. His fur was matted with blood and sweat. His breathing came in short, desperate gasps. "Haa... haa... haa..." But he was still alive. Still conscious.

Off to the side, Sparrow was trembling so violently you could literally hear his teeth chattering. Chatter-chatter-chatter-chatter. The sound cut through the heavy air like a strange, constant rhythm. His eyes were wide, locked on the scene before him, unable to look away despite wanting desperately to.

Sparrow had encountered many predators in his life—hawks, eagles, wolves, even larger beastmen who’d tried to hunt him. But he’d never seen anyone like Kaya. If someone gave him a choice right now—die by Kaya’s hand or jump into a lion’s mouth—he’d pick the lion without thinking twice. At least that death would be quick. Merciful.

This? This was something else entirely.

Cutie remained perfectly still beside Sparrow, his expression frozen as always. But if you looked closely at his eyes—really looked—there was something flickering there. A glint of admiration. And though his face showed nothing, deep in those eyes, there was a clear hint of pride.

Kaya finally stepped back, flexing her fingers.

Crack, crack, crack.

Her knuckles were split now, bleeding from the repeated impacts against bone and flesh. But she didn’t even glance at them.

She slowly bent down, bringing herself to the mongoose’s level once more.

"Well," she said softly, "you’re not going to say anything still, right?"

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Her knuckles dripped blood onto the floor. The mongoose trembled beneath her gaze. He didn’t even have the strength left to lift his limbs. Every part of his body screamed in agony—muscles torn, bones bruised, nerves raw and exposed.

And at this moment, he genuinely wished Kaya would just kill him. End it. Make the pain stop.

He tried to bite his tongue—tried to end it himself—but he couldn’t. Kaya had tied his mouth shut earlier with strips of cloth, binding it so tightly his jaw felt like it might crack. She’d anticipated that move. Of course she had.

Kaya wasn’t worried. She knew—absolutely certain—that before this bastard died, she’d get exactly what she wanted.

"So," she said quietly, her voice almost gentle, "now you want to talk?"

The mongoose trembled harder, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

During the beating, Kaya had already broken all of his teeth. She’d done it methodically, using the hilt of her dagger to smash each one individually. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crunch.

The remaining fragments hung loose in his gums, jagged and useless, not enough to bite anything.