The Conqueror Of Cities!-Chapter 61 Zehar’s Concern
61 Zehar's Concern
Midway through my meal, an inexplicable surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and without warning, I leaped to my feet, bellowing, "Attack!"
The others around us gaped in bewilderment and horror at my sudden outburst, but my men, fueled by an uncontrollable craze, erupted into a blasting of war screams. With an unyielding force, they catapulted out of their seats, jumping over tables, and lunging at the other inmates, unleashing a vicious assault upon them.
The guards, alerted to the chaos, threw themselves into the fight with reckless abandon, their eyes wild with fear and fury. The scene erupted into unmitigated chaos, an onslaught of battle cries and clashing bodies, resonating with an electrifying intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
The alarm was sound, piercing our ears with its loud noises. Trays and spoons were now makeshift weapons, transformed into deadly instruments, their edges used to pierce flesh and bones. Blood spilled forth in torrents, drenching the cafeteria floor in a nightmarish tableau of crimson. The screams of pain and terror mingled with the deafening din of the ongoing combat, creating a symphony of violence that sent chills down my spine and thrilled me to my very core.
The guards and inmates alike fell like dominos, their defenses crumbling before our onslaught. Our ferocity had caught them entirely off guard, leaving them utterly defenseless against our brutal assault. We fought with a savage determination, sparing none who dared to oppose us.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as the battle raged on, an endless onslaught of blows and clashes. The air became thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and fear. It was a savage ballet of brutality and defiance, a primal display of dominance and survival.
Yet, despite the mounting injuries and exhaustion, neither side showed signs of relenting. Our adrenaline-fueled rage persisted, driving us forward, while the desperation to suppress the riot spurred the guards to fight with equal determination.
The cafeteria had transformed into a veritable battlefield, the remnants of the once-peaceful meal now replaced by a scene of carnage. As the dust settled, bodies lay strewn across the floor.
only a handful of us were left standing, gasping for breath, our legs threatening to buckle under the strain. I was among them, feeling the fatigue settling into my muscles. We took a brief respite, a minute that felt like an eternity, attempting to catch our breath.
However, the respite was short-lived when suddenly, the doors swung open with a force that seemed to match our chaotic circumstances. Armed police officers flooded in, their expressions stern and determined. In an instant, they apprehended each of us, swiftly fastening cold handcuffs around our wrists. I found myself sprawled on the ground, a police officer's knee pressing into my back. Despite the discomfort, I couldn't help but wear a satisfied smirk, relishing in the outcome we had achieved.
We were herded like cattle to our cells, each clang of the heavy door locking us away like animals.
After a day or so the situation calmed down. The second cell block was under my control now someone in that cell block took a portion of the blame and some in my cell block took it, leaving most of us still in the game ready for more action.
In our cell block it was now quiet, just inmates medically helping each other out, bandaging them, putting ice on their wounds, basically recovering from the battle and the same went for the second cell block.
While I was sitting on of the metal benches in my cell block with some other inmates talking and healing, Zehar approached me from behind, grabbing my shoulder and saying with a concern look in his eyes, "Dionis, we need to talk." his voice carried a somber tone that belied his emotions.
"Um sure?" Rising from my seat, I followed Zehar to a corner, my annoyance palpable. "So what's up?" I inquired, my patience wearing thin.
"I agreed to support your pursuit for diplomacy within this juvenile prison, but your methods are extreme. Can't we find a more peaceful way to fix this place?" Zehar's words carried a weight of genuine concern.
I met his gaze squarely, a mix of frustration and conviction in my expression. "Do you think I derive pleasure from causing pain? That I'm indulging in this for my own amusement? No. If there were a better alternative, I'd embrace it wholeheartedly. But tell me, how can one alter the minds of countless unstable, evil teenagers solely through words? It's an impossibility. I employ force out of necessity, with the goal of establishing control. Once that control is secured, I'll repress violence and enforce order. Peace cannot flourish when numerous leaders vie for dominance."
His eyes held a glimmer of understanding, yet he persisted. "Surely, there must be something else..."
"The strength you possess is a gift, Zehar, albeit one that comes with a burden. You're a knight, destined to battle even against your will. So why not channel that strength toward a cause that aims for the betterment of all?" My voice softened, an appeal to his sense of purpose.
Zehar's face still concerned, slightly agreed with me, "You're right. This strength isn't a blessing; it's a curse. But I'll use this curse to help others."
"Exactly!" My own excitement was visible as I gently pushed him making way for me to return to my seat, resuming conversations with fellow inmates. The expression on my face shifted from excitement to a chilly, emotionless demeanor right after I moved past Zehar.
Amid the chatter, the blare of an alarm pierced the air, signaling the commencement of a class session.
Basically in the juvenile prison, we attended classes similar to those in school, where we were taught the same subjects as high school. The goal was to ensure that upon release, we wouldn't need to repeat a class.
Marching alongside my classmates through the lengthy corridor, we filed into the classroom. Guards stationed at each corner kept a watchful eye, a stark reminder of our captivity. The teacher launched into the lesson, diligently fulfilling their role.
As I settled into my seat, I scanned the room and realized that I was still surrounded by the same classmates from the very first day I had entered the facility. None of them hailed from cell blocks 2 or 1, so I remained unfamiliar with everyone. Usually, they simply disregarded my presence, allowing me to be on my own without so much as a glance in my direction. However, this occasion felt distinct—
everyone's gaze was fixed on me.
I dealt with it for some time, but The annoyance festered until it erupted, my frustration finding voice as I slammed my desk and rose to my feet., "The fuck you all looking at!"
A guard's voice rang out, commanding authority as his hand rested on his holster. "Sit down, now!"
"Then tell them to stop fucking staring!" I retorted, my voice laced with defiance.
"SIT!" The command left no room for negotiation.
With a muttered curse, I begrudgingly sank back into my seat. Laughter rippled through my classmates, but the scrutinizing gazes had ceased.
As the lesson continued, a realization dawned on me. "Now that I've been pushed around, no one's staring? Damn, it looks like news about me and my actions has spread to the other cell blocks that's why they were so on guard. These idiots have let their guard down after seeing me being bitched around. Well, that's advantageous. They will probably spread the word in their cell block, painting me as some pussy."
"This situation is perfect for me to catch them off guard and gain influence over more people.
Handling this situation feels like child's play compared to the challenges I'll face once I'm out of here,"
