Laura Lowell’s face turned grim as she took in the bloody scene and the bizarre paralysis of the law enforcement officers.
She quickly directed the surrounding micro-drones to aim at Connor Webb and barked out a sharp command:
"Cease your violent actions immediately! Assaulting someone in public at the base entrance is a serious violation of the Central Base’s regulations! Everyone involved is to disarm at once and submit to an investigation!
Otherwise, your clearance to enter the underground area will be revoked, and we will resort to force!"
Puffing out his large stomach, a conspicuous sight in this post-apocalyptic world, Connor Webb showed no fear. Instead, a smug, confident smile spread across his face.
To maintain such a physique in an apocalypse fraught with food shortages and constant danger, a person either had a special Ability, a powerful backer, or both.
He slowly patted non-existent dust from his hands and shrugged. "Now, now, my dear administrator, you can’t just say things like that.
Everyone saw it. This lunatic suddenly attacked me with a weapon. I was acting purely in self-defense.
Was I supposed to just stand there and let him stab me to death?
The Central Base’s regulations can’t possibly forbid law-abiding survivors like us from protecting ourselves, can they?"
His words skirted the main issue, painting a clear case of aggravated assault as mere "excessive self-defense."
By calling it "legitimate self-defense," he was even implying that the base’s regulations were unreasonable.
Laura Lowell’s chest rose and fell with indignation at his sophistry, but she was more concerned about the law enforcement officers, who were still unable to move.
She was just about to order the micro-drones forward to suppress and contain him, and to call for heavily armed backup.
Just then, a deep, authoritative man’s voice came through the tiny earpiece Laura Lowell was wearing, its tone brooking no argument:
"Laura Lowell, let him pass.
This matter ends here. Someone else will handle it."
Laura Lowell stiffened, whispering urgently and in disbelief into her microphone.
"Sir! This man committed assault in public and is suspected of using a Control-type Ability to obstruct law enforcement! He’s in serious viola—"
"That’s an order!" The voice in her earpiece grew stern, laced with unyielding pressure. "Execute it immediately! Secure the scene, placate the crowd, and don’t let this escalate."
The order was absolute.
Laura Lowell’s expression darkened. She bit her lower lip, her gaze fixed on Connor Webb, filled with fury and a barely perceptible trace of humiliation.
Connor Webb clearly noticed the change in Laura Lowell’s expression and the way she faltered, as if about to speak but then holding back.
The smug look on his face deepened. He deliberately raised his voice, as if speaking for the benefit of the entire crowd. "What’s wrong, Miss Administrator? Did you receive an order from your superior?
I told you, I’m a ’special talent’ personally invited here by your higher-ups. Thinking you can stop me over a trivial matter like this? You’re not important enough."
He shot Laura Lowell a contemptuous glance, then beckoned to the women at his side.
"Let’s go, babes. No need to waste time on people who don’t know their place."
With that, he began to swagger toward the open VIP lane with his companions in tow.
"Somebody help! He... he’s still bleeding! Please, someone save him!"
At that moment, the pool of blood beneath Paul Payne—the man Connor Webb had stabbed—was expanding rapidly. His face had become ashen, his breathing shallow.
Unable to watch any longer, someone in the crowd cried out anxiously.
Justin Brooks, Wesley Moore, and the others couldn’t help but turn their gazes toward Seraphina Sullivan.
Seraphina Sullivan sighed inwardly. ’I can’t just stand by and do nothing.’


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