I reached the front of the prison's exit.

But before I could even step closer, the ground in front of me decided to go through puberty and burst open.

Something — no, someone — crawled out of the dirt like the final boss of a garbage dump.

Big. Burly. Strong.

And dirtier than a politician's promises.

He wasn't human.

Because no human looked like that unless they had been rejected by both evolution and hygiene.

Which could only mean one thing—Malthus had upgraded the prison security.

The ogre-looking freak leaned toward me, staring deep into my eyes like he was trying to find a brain cell to borrow.

He growled, his breath smelling like it murdered a sewer rat just for dessert.

Classic villain behavior: threaten first, think never.

I tilted my head, eyes sliding to his neck.

"Your neck is so thick," I said, voice smooth as caffeine overdose. "I bet it'll feel good…"

I raised my sleek black katana.

"…to slice it off."

The man's eyes widened like he'd just realized taxes exist.

Erect and Sexis smirked behind me, their faces saying 'yeah, he's about to commit anime.'

The guard's Ego must've taken a mortal wound, because he roared with enough force to exfoliate my soul.

I would've toyed with him longer — but time was something I couldn't afford.

So I sighed.

"Alright, big guy. Time to sleep."

He raised both fists like he was about to punch the concept of gravity itself.

Meanwhile, I just stood there, calm.

No fear. No hesitation.

Just a katana, a bad attitude, and the confidence of a man who's failed so much that death feels like a vacation.

I readied my stance.

[ Skill "All Weapon Masturbation" Activated! ]

The System's voice echoed in my skull.

Images flooded my mind. Swords, axes, hammers, spears, guns—Everything that could slice, stab, or bonk.

All the world's weapon knowledge crammed itself into my brain like a bad PowerPoint download.

A slow grin spread across my face.

I had no clue how to use a katana before—hell, I'd been treating it like a fancy butter knife.

But now?

Now I could probably fight a blender and win.

I bent my knees, muscles tightening like overworked rubber bands.

And since I can't do anything without being dramatic, I exhaled softly and muttered,

"Pervert Breathing. First Form…"

My katana shimmered under the dim light, ready to commit something both illegal and impressive.

I dashed forward—

"Circumcision in Adolescence."

I sliced through the air so fast that even the wind was like, "Bro, chill."

In one second, I was behind the guy.

He turned around, laughing, chest puffed like he just got a promotion.

"Hahaha! I didn't feel a thing, human! You are tras—"

THUD.

His sentence lost its head—literally.

The head hit the ground, rolled twice, and stopped, looking up at me like it couldn't believe the Wi-Fi just disconnected from its body.

I turned around slowly.

"You were saying something?"

The guard's eyes blinked once, then twice, then realized blinking was useless when you're decapitated.

He hadn't felt a thing.

That was the beauty of my swing.

When your blade's faster than guilt, the enemy dies confused.

I crouched down beside the head.

"You said you didn't feel a thing when I swung my sword."

I flicked my katana, blood droplets forming a crimson halo around me.

"That's what makes me the greatest swordsman alive… after Zoro."

The head stared at me for a few seconds more—then its eyes closed like it was just done with this franchise.

He was dead.

My first kill in this war.

[ Alright. What the hell is Pervert Breathing? You planning on becoming a Pervert Hashira now? Also, did you just name-drop Zoro? Bro, this isn't One Piece fanfiction. Don't do fan service just because you're broke. ]

'Don't get personal, System. I just wanted to feel cool for once. You know—like a protagonist who doesn't pay taxes.'

[ Fine. You do you. ]

The System shut up, probably out of secondhand embarrassment.

I turned toward the prison exit again, sheathing my sword.

Sexis and Erect caught up, faces glowing with "we wanna break stuff" energy.

"You should've let me fight him, my lord," Sexis grumbled. "I wanted to use my hammer too. Why are you even here?"

"Yeah, Racis," Erect joined in. "I wanted to use my scythe. You already killed one guard daily! Give us a turn!"

They sounded like kids complaining their older brother finished the boss fight before they could plug in the controller.

I shrugged.

"You'll both get plenty of chances. I'm here to test something."

They frowned, confused.

Instead of explaining, I raised my left hand toward the massive metal gate ahead.

Made a fist.

And with all the confidence of a man who overestimates himself on arm day—

BAAM!

The gate screamed.

Then—

THAAM!

It shattered open, locks exploding off like popcorn in a microwave.

Chunks of metal scattered everywhere, and the sound echoed through the prison like thunder made of disrespect.

I smirked.

Last time I needed Jack's dead body to break through a wooden door.

Now I'd just folded metal with my fist.

That's called character development, baby.

"I was here to test my progress," I said, cracking my knuckles.

"And I certainly made it. I'm strong now, Erect. Sexis. We can win this shit."

Erect smiled, eyes burning with determination.

"Of course we can win, my lord. We trained till death flirted with us and said, 'maybe next time.' I won't lose again."

Sexis clenched his fist. "I won't die again either. I'll make my mother proud. I am the Alien King, and the aliens will regret doubting my throne. Just wait, Malthus."

I nodded, the flames of rebellion burning inside me like a motivational speech gone feral.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's join the fun."

They nodded back, and together, we walked toward Malthus's castle.

My allies were already at the castle gate—a monstrous double door, tall and heavy, made of metal thicker than my patience.

It had holes everywhere—big ones, like someone had tried to use it for target practice while blindfolded.

The prisoners and aliens had been hammering it for hours, trying to break through.

The door looked like it'd been through therapy and was still not ready to open up.

When the crowd saw us three walking up, they instantly stepped aside.

Even they knew shit was about to get cinematic.

"Why are you still hitting it?" I asked, watching them hammer the door like it owed them child support. "You've already made enough holes to turn this thing into Swiss cheese's uglier cousin. Just go inside and have fun."

One of the prisoners, sweaty and weirdly proud, turned toward me.

"We don't want half-ass, Lord Hero. We want to destroy this door completely. Such holes don't give us happiness at all."

I stared at him.

That man just described every perfectionist ever — and also every failed relationship.

"I see."

I folded my arms, trying not to laugh. "Look, everyone. You're strong, no doubt. And yeah, if you keep pounding it like that—" I paused, glancing at Erect, "—you'll eventually break through. But that'll take time."

A chorus of confused grunts followed.

"So," I continued, voice dripping with confidence and caffeine, "for you all, I shall help you."

I turned to Erect and Sexis, who stood like two weapons of mass stupidity waiting for orders.

"Your turn came faster than I expected."

They both smiled like kids handed a flamethrower.

"We accept."

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