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Asher and the tester converged at the center of the blood-splattered floor, and the brutal fight began.

The tester was the first to lash out, hurling a vicious punch toward Asher’s face. But Asher dodged with ease and retaliated instantly, his fist hammering into the man’s face with enough force to send two of his teeth flying.

Yet unbelievably, the man hardly seemed to register the pain. He didn’t even stagger. If anything, he let out a guttural snarl, looking very much deranged as he lunged again.

Asher met him head-on, this time driving his fist straight into his gut. A dull, heavy sound echoed through the warehouse as the impact lifted the man off his feet and sent him crashing backward.

He rolled across the floor, dust and blood mingling in the air. And then like a predictable zombie, he got up to his feet

Again.

Unlike Asher who had trained all through his life, the tester had no form, nor discipline. There was no skill behind his movements, just the reckless aggression of a man high on power. He fought like a wild animal — all instinct, and no technique.

And Asher exploited it.

Each time the tester charged, Asher would countered it and let his fists meet his flesh with punishing accuracy : A strike to the ribs. A hit to the side of his head. A crushing blow to his collarbone.

Yet no matter how hard Asher hit him, the fool kept coming back. And finally, his unrelenting aggression paid off. The tester managed to slip in one brutal hit to Asher’s chest.

Asher spat blood onto the floor, his eyes flashing with an unknown emotion. It seems he was getting rustic. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And continued.

This time around, Asher showed the idiot no mercy, no opening for him to slip a blow. He beat him up as if he was an unruly child. Not that an unruly child could ever be beaten like this.

Even amid the fight — beating, was a much better term — Asher was watching and studying.

Whatever drug they fed this man gave him near-werewolf strength and speed.Unfortunately, If this drug were to spread unchecked, it would topple everything and tear the society apart.

It won’t just be a war between humans and werewolves anymore, it would be for survival.

But then, every drug had an expiration date, something Asher found that out next. The tester threw a punch, but there was no strength behind it. Asher barely had to move or dodge it. The hit brushed against his cheek weakly, almost as if someone just petted him.

The mania in his eyes had vanished, replaced by growing confusion and pain. His breathing became ragged, body slowing, and his limbs trembling violently.

His face contorted in agony and he doubled over, screaming as his body crashed from the drug’s effects. Asher snorted as he realized what was happening.

Of course. The fool had been too high to realize that he wasn’t actually invincible.

His body had endured the beating, but now that the Ignis had worn off, his nerves had caught up to the damage.

The tester fell to his knees, his hands scrabbling at the floor, his breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. The pain was coming in from every side and all at once. He needed relief. Except there was none.

The tester looked up at Asher, his bloodied face twisting with fear especially when he saw the dark smile on the Alpha’s face.

"Tired now, are we?" Asher murmured, his voice mockingly soft.

Then he grabbed him by the neck and hauled him upright. The man groaned, his hands weakly gripping Asher’s wrist, but he had no strength left to fight back.

Asher drove his fist into his face again and again. He didn’t stop. Not even when the man’s nose shattered, when his cheekbone cracked, not even when the flesh around his eyes swelled shut. He let out every ounce of frustration, disgust, and rage on him.

By the time he was done, the tester’s features were battered beyond recognition. Asher let go, watching as the tester slumped against the floor, barely breathing.

There was no doubt he’d suffer a drawn-out agony from internal bleeding and organ damage, assuming he even clung to life for more than a few moments.

Good. Let him die a painful death, Asher thought, stepping over the fool and leaving him to fate.

Asher’s attention shifted to Samuel, still standing at the head of the table, wearing an expression equal parts horror and shock. At least the underboss had possessed enough common sense not to attack him. Instead, he kept perfectly still, awaiting Asher’s next move.

Taking just a step, Asher’s foot nudged something small, sending it skittering a few inches on the blood-slick floor. Frowning, he glanced down and realized that it was one of the drugs Umal had tried to escape with.

"Small mercies," he muttered under his breath as he crouched to pick it up.

That was when Asher spotted another vial, half-embedded in a slick of congealed blood near a corpse. It seemed Umal had missed it in his hurry. He snagged both bottles, rose to his feet, and strode over to Samuel.

Samuel’s gaze was locked on him, unblinking, as though bracing for whatever came next. Reaching the table, Asher dropped the drugs onto its surface with a clink.

"Initially, I came here with just one question," he said in a voice gone cold and razor-sharp. "Now it’s two." He locked eyes with Samuel. "Start talking."

"What is your question?" Samuel went straight to the point, knowing his life was at stake here.

"Where can I find your boss, Titan and kill him? He has my mother-in-law hostage. I intend to take back a head for display to please my purple queen."

He added immediately, "Secondly, what is this drug? What can it do? Above all, where did it come from? And who was that man?"

That was more than two questions.