Chapter 72: JACOBS POV.

The man in front of me, the one on the left, didn’t even have time to turn all the way around.

He could only stare wide-eyed as I closed the distance in a fraction of a second.

I delivered a restrained blow to his face.

I didn’t want to kill him, just put him to sleep, but even "restrained" for me was like being hit by a moving carriage.

His head snapped back, his feet left the floor, and he slumped against the wall like a ragdoll, unconscious before he hit the ground.

While I handled my target, the captive men all rushed out of the room behind me like a dam breaking.

The man on the right of the hallway was momentarily paralyzed by fear.

He had been expecting a quiet shift, not a pack of angry prisoners led by a guy moving like a blur.

That split second of hesitation was his undoing. It gave the captives ample time to pounce on him.

They didn’t have weapons, but they had numbers and a lot of built-up rage.

They swarmed over him, pulling him to the ground. Then began beating him, using their fists and feet to keep him from reaching his weapon or crying out. It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective.

Perhaps due to not knowing how much strength I truly possessed on land, my blow ended up being far more violent than I intended.

The blow had actually knocked out a few of his teeth, which had flown through the air like small white pebbles.

His eyes were currently rolled back to the limit, showing only the whites, and his head was slumped to the side.

Actually, as I watched the way his chest barely moved and the strange angle of his neck, I realized that "unconscious" might have been an understatement.

Perhaps on the brink of death might’ve been a better statement. I hadn’t even swung with my full power; it had been a quick, reactive jab.

’Was I always this strong?’ My widened eyes stared at my still clenched fist in disbelief.

I stood there for a second, my knuckles stinging only slightly, while the adrenaline flowed through my veins.

I knew I was strong back in the ocean, but I had figured most of that came from my tail and the effects of being underwater.

I didn’t realize that the strength would carry over so perfectly to my human legs and arms.

Back in my old life, a punch like that would have been impossible. I would have probably broken my own hand before I broke someone’s face.

Just what in the hell was that punch just now, I wondered.

I opened and closed my hand, feeling the density of my muscles. It felt like my bones were made of iron and my tendons were like thick steel cables.

Maybe I’ve been underestimating the strength Persephone had bestowed upon me.

To think I was this strong even in my human form was a scary thought.

It made me realize just how much of a gap there was between the world I used to know and this one.

It went to show just how strong merfolk are when compared to normal humans.

If a "weakened" human version of me could do this, then Persephone or Artria could probably crush a human skull like a grape without even trying.

It was a sobering thought.

I wasn’t just a man anymore; I was something else more terrifying than I expected.

Which made me wonder just why that so called human nation in the novel dared to kill Persephone in the original story.

Those guys must’ve known that she was royalty, not to mention royalty of the shark tribe, one of the strongest merfolk tribes, so why did they do it?

Well maybe these were thoughts for the future.

By the time I snapped out of my thoughts and looked away from my hands, I was dumbfounded by what I saw.

The group of men who had followed me had already finished their task.

They had beaten the other guard to death. It wasn’t a clean fight. They had used their hands, their feet, and some had actually carried the heavy iron shackles they had just been wearing.

Blood was dripping from their hands and splattered across their ragged clothes.

They panted heavily, the sound of their breathing filling the quiet corridor.

Some still had vengeful faces, their eyes wide and bloodshot as they stared at the body of their tormentor.

Others looked a bit relieved, their shoulders sagging as the weight of their fear turned into a grim satisfaction.

It just goes to show how much they hated these men. These weren’t soldiers; but victims who had finally been given a chance to hit back.

Perhaps the heart of a slave wasn’t something I was willing to understand myself, as I hadn’t been in those chains for more than a day.

Who knew how much hardship they’d endured under the hands of these men? They might have lost families, friends, and their very dignity to these traffickers.

Seeing the guard dead on the floor wasn’t just a victory for them; it was a small bit of justice in a world that had treated them like trash.

Since taking out these guys was easier than I thought, I didn’t want to waste the momentum.

If we stood around staring at corpses, we’d eventually be caught.

I called the men over, gesturing for one of them to grab the guard’s sword.

We continued to move through the ship, staying close to the walls and keeping our ears open.

It didn’t take us long to clear out the lowest deck of the ship.

We found one more guard near the storage room, but he didn’t even have time to scream before three of the captives tackled him to the ground.

We were moving like a pack of hungry wolves now. The fear that had held these men back was gone, replaced by a desperate need for freedom.