He-El, wrapped in a rough blanket, was escorted by two armed soldiers to a secret room.
"Get in!"
The soldier who had brought He-El to the secret room gave him a hard shove. He-El staggered slightly as he was pushed inside.
It could hardly be called a secret room. It was more like a low-ranking sailor's cabin. The walls were covered in a black, greasy film like motor oil. A broken window had been crisscrossed with nailed boards, sealing it completely. The dim ceiling light swayed overhead, and the air reeked—a heavy, fishy stench like abnormal discharge mixed with blood, or the dull foulness of burst hemorrhoids mixed with shit.
He-El could not help frowning. The smell was too pungent.
He currently had only the physique of an ordinary adult, and he had spent an hour soaking in seawater. His body shivered as it tried to warm itself and maintain its vitality. His energy reserves were also running low, and hunger twisted through his stomach.
"I need to get something to eat and recover my strength first." As He-El surveyed the room, he did his best to control his body and conserve his strength.
He did not possess the strength of a human body at its limit, but his awareness of his physical condition and his control over his body still kept him from looking quite so miserable.
The miserable state was all an act for these pirates.
In truth, He-El still had a fairly clear understanding of and control over his body. He was not actually shaking uncontrollably from the cold seawater.
By subtly regulating his breathing and the rise and fall of tension in his muscles, he was nowhere near as weak and helpless as he appeared.
With his current skill alone, he could still kill fifty people