A woman entered the room, and after sitting down, she tapped her watch. Instantly, a 3D projection screen appeared before her.
The photo displayed a young East Asian man. His pitch-black eyes were as deep as a deserted night sky, casting a shadow over an otherwise sunny and handsome face.
Below were details such as his name, but the woman only glanced at them briefly before looking away—not just because she'd read them many times, but also because the man himself was sitting right in front of her.
"Gusion Paxley, is that right?"
The man sitting across from her was tightly bound in a straitjacket, every inch of his body securely restrained, with only his head exposed.
His face was covered in wild stubble, and his hair was filthy, making it impossible to discern his original appearance.
"Is there anyone else in the company prison treated like me?" Gusion smiled, a hint of mockery and self-deprecation in his tone.
The woman wasn't angered. She tucked a strand of her purple hair behind her ear, maintaining a businesslike demeanor. "You can call me Nephier. I'm responsible for taking your final statement. I hope you'll cooperate. That way, I can try to get you the breakfast you want."
Gusion fell silent as if recalling something. After a moment, he sighed softly. "The breakfast I want most likely no longer exists in this era."
Nephier didn't press for what he wanted to eat—that wasn't her task today. She glanced at the time and began the formal questioning. "There are a few questions I need to ask before your execution begins."
She paused and flipped through the projection. The display showed a middle-aged man in exoskeletal armor. The armor on his chest was shattered, pierced through the heart by a long spear, his body lying in a pool of blood.
"Master Phoveus—did you kill him?"
Faced with Nephier's question, Gusion looked up at the man in the image and sneered, "Master?"
Nephier frowned. "Answer my question. You know there are many ways to execute someone."
Gusion withdrew his gaze from the projection and stared at the woman in front of him. She was a typical New Era human—her appearance was already somewhat different from people of the old era. For example, her purple hair was not dyed but a genetic trait.
Being stared at by Gusion made Nephier inexplicably uneasy, but she kept her composure and raised her voice, "I've read your previous statements. You admitted your crimes, but you never explained your method."
Gusion leaned back, twisting his neck as if trying to relieve the discomfort from long-term restraint. "I've already told you how I did it. You just don't believe me."
A strange look flashed in Nephier's eyes. Indeed, the man before her had described his method, but his explanation was simply too far-fetched—impossible, even.
While Nephier was pondering how to break through Gusion's silence, he looked up at the ceiling and began reciting names:
" Phoveus, Ling, Chou, Lancelot, Zilong, Akai, Hayabusa, Sun, Paquito, Yin."
With each name, Nephier's frown deepened. Every person Gusion mentioned was a renowned martial arts master.
Even though she disdained the outdated martial arts of the old era, believing them useless against the power of technology, she had to admit that these people were in excellent physical condition—and, equipped with exoskeletons, individually quite formidable.
Yet, the man before her—without any technological aid—had killed all ten of these martial arts grandmasters.
It was common knowledge that human physical strength was weak. In history, the strongest strongmen could only deadlift several hundred kilograms, but with exoskeletons, even a frail person could easily lift three or four hundred kilograms.
Those already strong martial arts masters, when wearing exoskeletons, could exert force easily exceeding a thousand kilograms.
"How did you do it?"
Nephier couldn't help but ask. Figuring out Gusion's secret was her job, and now, she was genuinely curious.
"Hard to believe?"
Gusion smiled. "I didn't find it that difficult to kill them."
"Impossible. Don't tell me your martial arts were better than theirs. I've checked the records. Why do boxing matches in the old era have weight classes? You weren't even in the same league."
Nephier leaned forward, meeting Gusion's gaze. "If you confess now how you discovered and exploited the system loophole, the company might reconsider your sentence and possibly even offer you a position."
Gusion was momentarily stunned by Nephier's words, then realized everyone had misunderstood. They believed he had discovered a flaw in the company's exoskeleton systems, allowing him to defeat the so-called martial masters.
No wonder the company had kept him alive for so long—they wanted to be sure their product wasn't flawed.
"Seems I've caused you quite a bit of financial loss," Gusion mocked.
"So what's your answer?" Nephier pressed. This was the company's real concern.
The incident had caused a huge stir. Even with the company's media control, many people knew that someone had killed ten martial arts masters with bare hands. This led the public to question the quality of the company's products, and even the military had canceled some orders.
Until the cause was found and the new exoskeleton's integrity was confirmed, the company was reluctant to deal with Gusion hastily.
"Have you ever read manga?"
"What?"
Nephier hadn't expected that answer. She'd heard of manga—an entertainment medium from the previous century—but what did that have to do with this?
"When I was a kid, I read a manga called Baki. There was this strongest on earth character, and I liked his approach to fighting."
Gusion reminisced, while Nephier looked utterly confused.
"Mr. Gusion, please answer properly," Nephier said coldly, thinking he was mocking her.
"Communicating with you is hard. Let me put it simply. When facing someone stronger, use technique. When facing someone more skillful, you can use greater strength to win by force."
Gusion grinned. "Your exoskeletons might enhance strength, but those people were too weak in technique."
"Are you saying, at just over twenty years old, you're stronger than those masters who practiced martial arts for half their lives?" Nephier was incredulous. "Strong enough to overcome the absolute gap in power?"
Even if Gusion had killed just one exoskeleton-wearing child, it would be unbelievable—human bodies are limited and fragile.
"You could put it that way," Gusion said, closing his eyes as if uninterested in further talk.
Before the company sent this purple-haired beauty, he'd already talked with over a dozen interrogators, negotiators, and psychologists. None got the answer they wanted.
Most of what he said was true, but people only believe what they want to believe. This hasn't changed, even in the new era.
The company thought he'd found a system flaw, perhaps even a backdoor in their network, which allowed him to defeat the ten masters.
They wanted to find out if they had a product flaw or if he had support from a resistance group.
But in reality, he was alone and had long accepted his fate.
He knew Nephier was the company's last chance offered to him. After half a year, their patience was exhausted, and by now the company had likely updated its systems, and his impact on society would slowly fade.
Nephier was like a foot the company placed before him—if he just licked it, he'd have a chance to live. But he didn't want to.
"Let me change the question. Why did you kill them?"
Nephier took a deep breath and resumed the official statement, just going through the motions.
"They were company dogs, betrayed their principles, and killed my master... Too many reasons, which you should know."
Gusion yawned and glanced at the time on the projection. "Can we begin the execution?"
Nephier frowned. She'd seen people unafraid of death, but this man was too calm—as if bored with the world.
Like a strong man on a cold mountain peak, she was reminded of an ancient phrase: 'invincible and lonely.'
She stood, and put away the projection. "I'll take you to the execution ground."
The statement would be preserved as an audio record. As the company's special death row prisoner, she would also record the entire execution process and file it with the death certificate.
With two exoskeleton-armored guards escorting him, Gusion was quickly brought to the open-air execution ground.
In the blinding sunlight, he squinted, adjusted to the light, and looked around.
"What a sick sense of humor. Sometimes I wonder where your so-called progress has led you. Isn't this just retrogression?"
Gusion's tone was mocking as he looked at the execution platform—a mechanical device.
Once the execution began, he'd be fixed to the platform, with robotic arms pulling his limbs until he was torn apart.
To prevent accidents, the circular plaza was surrounded by armed soldiers, and figures stood on the high walls, watching below.
"For violent criminals like you, we must use severe punishment as a warning to others," Nephier said beside him. "Any last words?"
With two guards escorting him, Gusion stepped up to the platform. "I just remembered what my master praised me for as a child..."
As he spoke, his straitjacket was removed, and a guard used a mechanical arm to fix his neck, a gun at his head, then secured him to the machine step by step.
Nephier didn't understand why Gusion would say such things at death's door, but she was curious. "Did he praise you as a martial arts genius?"
Fixed onto the machine, Gusion felt the force from the robotic arms around him, grinned, and glanced at the figures on the high platform.
The execution arms were company products, the same model as the exoskeletons the people he killed had worn.
Looking at the cameras around, Gusion guessed the company wanted to restore its reputation by showing their products could easily tear apart a person.
If he had found a system loophole, they'd expect him to use it to escape death now.
Of course, the company didn't believe he could interfere with their products without any electronic devices. They wanted to see if his secret allies would intervene.
Gusion had to admit, the company had planned well. Either way, they would regain their reputation or crush the resistance.
But today, the company was wrong. He had bet correctly.
On the high platform, an old man in a black robe and sunglasses looked down at Gusion, a relieved smile on his face.
Gusion also smiled, baring his white teeth and laughing madly, as if in a death frenzy.
If not for the mechanical arms restraining him, he might have doubled over with laughter.
The executioner pulled the switch. Gusion immediately felt a powerful force pulling at his limbs. His neck wasn't fixed—this method was meant to make the criminal die in pain, not quickly by strangulation or decapitation.
As his limbs were pulled off, most would scream before dying.
Gusion reflected on the company's cruelty but was also grateful to whoever designed today's execution—he laughed heartily, and under shocked gazes, his muscles tensed and resisted the mechanical arms.
"My master didn't praise me for being a martial arts genius..."
At first, his voice was slow, but as he exerted force, it became more intense. His muscles bulged like erupting volcanoes.
His words intertwined with the whirring of the mechanical arms, like whispers from hell: "He said I... possess a numerical beauty."