As Sophie gently placed the last dish in the sink, Kyle rolled up his sleeves, reaching for the sponge. But before he could start, Sophie put her hand on his and said, "Kyle, washing dishes is not your thing. And after all that traveling, you should be resting instead."
Kyle smiled, warmth filling his gaze. "All those years, I wasn't by your side. Let me attend to you, Mom."
Sophie parted her lips to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She had so much to say, yet nothing came out.
Kyle took the dish from her hand with a firm but gentle touch and started cleaning effortlessly. His movements were smooth, practiced—almost professional. Sophie blinked in surprise, watching as he swiftly scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked the dishes with the efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times before.
"You know how to clean?" Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
Kyle let out a small chuckle, his voice laced with nostalgia. "When I was in the army, they gave us a single set of utensils—one plate, one cup, one spoon. That was it. If you lost them, you were doomed. Either you fought someone for theirs or you starved."
Sophie blinked in shock. "What kind of rule is that?"
Kyle shrugged, smirking. "Survival training, I guess. Cleaning them properly was like another mission for us. If you left a speck of dirt on your plate, you could wake up to a boot kicking you in the ribs."
Sophie's lips twitched. "So, you're telling me you learned to clean dishes out of fear?"
Kyle laughed. "Exactly! One time, my buddy thought he could get away with washing his cup half-heartedly. The next morning, our Sergeant made him drink from it… after filling it with mud."
Sophie gasped, covering her mouth. "That's disgusting!"
Kyle shook his head. "You say disgusting, but we called it 'character development.'"
Kyle smirked. "You have no idea. There were guys who guarded their spoons like national treasures. One time, my friend lost his fork, and he spent an entire week eating rice with two sticks he found outside. He even carved them to look fancy, said it was 'military innovation.'"
Sophie let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "And here I thought war stories would be more… grand."
Kyle said with a grin, "Survival is survival, whether on the battlefield or in the mess hall."
Sophie let out a light laugh, shaking her head in amusement as she stepped aside, watching her son clean the remaining dishes with ease. Within moments, the sink was empty. Kyle clapped his hands clean and turned to Sophie with a sudden thought.
"Mom, do you want to go shopping?"
Sophie blinked. "Shopping? All of a sudden?"
Before she could fully register what was happening, Kyle took her hand and led her outside. The cool evening air brushed against them as they stepped out of the house—only to be met with an unpleasant sight.
A group of thuggish-looking men stood in front of the house, their silver chains gleaming under the streetlights. Their expensive watches and gaudy rings screamed arrogance rather than wealth. The leader, a rough-looking man with slicked-back hair and a bat resting on his shoulder, smirked at Sophie.
"Hey, old woman," he sneered. "It's been a week since you said you'd clear out. Why are you still here, huh?" His voice carried an unmistakable edge of threat.
Sophie's grip on Kyle's wrist tightened. Her voice wavered as she said, "Give—Give me one more week, Hank. I promise the house will be empty."
Hank sneered. He tapped the bat against the ground, the sharp sound echoing through the area. Sophie flinched.
Kyle's expression darkened. His once warm, playful demeanor vanished, replaced by something cold and dangerous. His arm wrapped protectively around Sophie's shoulders.
Hank finally noticed Kyle and raised an eyebrow. Then, as if realizing something funny, he burst out laughing. "Oh? I see you found yourself a boy toy to protect you, huh?!"
The gangsters behind him erupted into mocking laughter.
Kyle's gaze was calm, but the air around him grew heavier, like an impending storm.
Just then, Darius stepped out of the house. His sharp gaze immediately took in the scene. His stomach churned as he sensed the tension in the air. He knew that if this continued, a massacre was inevitable.
Darius took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Mas—uhm—Brother," he corrected himself quickly. "Leave them to me. I'll handle this." His eyes burned with a quiet fury.
Kyle simply nodded.
Sophie's fear escalated. "D-Don't do anything reckless," she pleaded. "They're backed by Tom Hardy. He's the most vicious gangster in Fragent City. If you offend him—" She didn't finish the sentence, but her meaning was clear.
Tom Hardy was not someone to be trifled with.
Hank's laughter grew louder. "Did you hear that, boys? The old cougar is worried about us! Hahahaha!" He wiped a fake tear from his eye and turned back to Kyle and Darius. "Listen up, pretty boy. Take your old hag and get the hell out of here. Otherwise, I'll break every bone in your body and make you crawl out."
Darius's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
How dare they insult the Legendary God of War and his mother?!
Darius took a deep breath, but before he could act, Kyle's voice came, cold and commanding.
"Why haven't you taken action yet?"
Darius's breath caught in his throat. His body tensed.
That was all the permission he needed.
With explosive speed, he lunged at the gangsters.
Hank barely had time to react before a fist buried itself in his gut. His eyes bulged as he doubled over, gasping for air.
"D-Don't just stand there!" he wheezed. "Get him!"
His men snapped out of their shock and charged.
Kyle turned Sophie away, shielding her from what was about to unfold. "Mom, don't look."
The next ten seconds were filled with screams, groans, and the sound of bones breaking.
Sophie trembled slightly, eyes shut tight. She clutched Kyle's sleeve as if it were a lifeline.
Then, silence.
Kyle gently turned her around.
When Sophie turned back, all twenty men were sprawled on the ground—some unconscious, some groaning in agony. Some had their limbs bent at unnatural angles. Not a single one was left standing.
And Darius? His clothes were untouched. His face was calm as if he had merely gone on a casual stroll, not even a wrinkle on his clothes.
He grabbed Hank by the hair and dragged him toward Kyle. The once-arrogant thug was now a pathetic mess, his eyes filled with pure terror.
Darius threw him to the ground in front of Kyle.
Kyle looked down at him with an indifferent gaze. To Hank, it felt like the sky itself was pressing down on him.
Unable to bear the weight of Kyle's gaze, Hank collapsed onto his knees and slammed his head against the ground.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried. "I was wrong! Please, spare me! I swear I'll never do anything like this again!"
Kyle's voice was calm but firm. "Don't kneel to me. Kneel to my mother and apologize."
Hank, as if he had been given a lifeline, crawled towards Sophie. His forehead smashed against the ground as he pleaded, "Madam Sophie! I deeply apologize! Please, let me live! I-I swear I'll leave the gangster life! I'll even help people like you!"
Sophie hesitated, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.
Kyle placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Mom, don't be afraid. Just say what's on your mind."
Sophie took a deep breath and said softly, "Let him go."
Kyle nodded to Darius, who flung Hank aside like garbage.
Far away, Hank emerged from the shadows, his face twisted in rage. He pulled out his phone.
A deep, lazy voice answered.
"What is it?"
Hank took a deep breath. "Boss… we have a problem."
The voice chuckled darkly.
"Interesting. They dare to challenge me? Let's see how they handle the real King of Fragent City."