Here's the corrected translation with your requested formatting (— for dialogue, " for thoughts):
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On a night, a man was running, but something felt wrong. He was frightened, his face showed fear, his breathing was rapid. He was desperately fleeing from something, but what could possibly be so terrifying to cause such fear?
A whistle began to sound, a figure taking long strides. In fact, it almost looked like it was happily skipping. The fleeing man couldn't scream—something was preventing him.
—W-what did I do to deserve this!
The man was already tired, his shirt soaked with sweat. He staggered from exhaustion. His foot gave out, making him fall sideways and hit his head against the alley wall. He passed out.
He woke up in panic, looking around. There was nothing, but he knew: "A predator enjoys playing with its prey's mind. He... hid on purpose."
Then he startled and looked up. A figure watched him, its smile macabre, its face... "But what? It's blurred—no no, it doesn't exist? But what."
Suddenly it disappeared. The man realized there wasn't a single sound in the area. Not one trace of human life.
—A very interesting thing about the human mind is silence.
The figure reappeared, walking slowly down the alley.
—Why? Simple. Your senses become more sensitive. The fear infiltrating your mind. Doubts filling your body. "Why isn't there any sound?" You must be thinking that... ah yes, I forgot I used mana to destroy your vocal cords. My mistake, sorry. —The figure mocked the poor man.
The man's eyes began to tear up. With each step the figure came closer. In desperation, the man bit his finger, tearing off skin, and started writing on the ground. The pain was agonizing—the concrete ground shredded his flesh. The figure appeared beside him, waiting for him to finish writing.
I... can... give... you... whatever... you... want!
—Oh how wonderful. —The figure impaled its sword through the man's hand.
—But what if I say... what I desire is your life?
The man tried to pull out the knife, but the figure moved forward and placed a hand over his mouth.
—Boom! —Its voice was calm.
An explosion occurred. The skin around his mouth carbonized, his teeth exposed. The flesh and muscles of his face began to split. The man writhed in pain.
Blood poured endlessly. The figure's smile was frightening—it was enjoying the suffering, trembling with what seemed like withdrawal, its breathing heavy. It grabbed the man's leg, pushed him to the ground, and stepped on him, then began applying pressure to tear off his leg. The skin stretched, then began to tear—muscles, tendons, everything splitting apart. The pain was unbearable. The man, with his vocal cords and larynx destroyed and his tongue burned, screamed in silence before fainting.
—What a pity, already passed out? Unfortunately I can't wait for you... after all those bastards will come as fast as they can. —The man's leg was torn off.
It took its knife and opened his chest, then began removing his organs one by one. Veins were ripped out, skin removed, muscles torn away. The man had been dead for a while, but the figure didn't care—it just kept tearing without mercy.
—Ah! Really, what a delight!
It then stood up, removed its glove and threw it on the body. It walked away and disappeared into the shadows. The sun began to rise as the figure left the alley and stretched. That was Arthur.
—Now I have to go. Need to open the tavern.
Later that day.
—Seriously! You should apply to join the police, Arthur!
—Really Ray, I'm not at all interested in joining the police.
Ray banged the table and stood up.
—Besides talent you have great intelligence! If you become a detective, you'll be one of the most renowned!
The men started shouting—they were all very drunk.
—Ah seriously. —Arthur scratched his head.
—Art, don't need to listen to these drunks, do what you want! Just don't waste your life like I did. —A blonde-haired woman spoke.
—I'll think seriously about it.
"Joining the police was something I'd already planned. I'd gain many things by joining—information, strategies, and knowledge."
Arthur's face became expressionless as he poured beer into a glass.
"It would become more complicated to kill, but I'll find a way."
Then Arthur gave a big smile and handed over the beers.
"So... let's prepare. The test is in a week."
Back in that alley, they finally found the body.
—My beloved gods, what the hell happened?
A woman approached. Her white hair shimmered, her beauty stunning—purple eyes and pale skin making her striking.
—Lady Melissa!
The man handed her the glove.
—He was wearing this glove. His fingerprints are probably here!
The woman took the glove and used light magic to examine it, then realized it was a magic circle! She threw the glove away as fast as she could and grabbed the man, throwing him back. The glove created a massive explosion.
—Ah! Miss, are you okay?!
—Yes, I'm fine.
"A magic circle that activates when mana is detected—and no fingerprints, just the circles. This was meticulously done. The body was killed in a terrifying way. And there's always one thing in common with all the bodies: their organs were all removed, vocal cords and larynx destroyed, mouth carbonized. Signs of a bladed weapon, probably a knife."
—Notify "them" that this killer is now a rank Blue criminal.
—Understood!
The man ran off.
—Wait for me, killer.
End of Chapter 2.