Outside, the night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Guests inside the estate sipped plum wine, laughed behind paper fans, shared idle gossip under oil lanterns and silk banners.
"Did you hear about Lady Soo-Jin? She actually dared to wear violet tonight."
"Quite scandalous," another whispered, amused.
One of the guards outside looked up.
Something wasn't right.
The wind had died. No bugs. No frogs. No owl song. Just…
stillness.
He opened the gate to check the perimeter.
Found nothing.
Turned back.
Then something grabbed his ankle.
!SNAP!
He dropped. No sound. No warning.
By the time the second guard noticed, his partner's head was already twisted the wrong way.
He reached for his blade.
He didn't make it.
!THUD!
A body hit the ground behind him.
Kai moved from the shadows like smoke with intent.
Precise. Clean. Absolute.
Three more guards dead before the front gate even creaked open.
Inside the main hall, a servant crashed through the doors. Bleeding. Eyes wide.
"He's—he's here."
The music stopped.
The nobles didn't understand.
They never do.
Soft murmurs filled the silence. "Who is he talking about?" someone whispered anxiously.
Another voice replied calmly, "Likely a drunk servant, nothing more."
Sung-Min rose from his place, gold-trimmed robe swaying.
"Who?"
The servant's jaw trembled. He couldn't form the name.
But Kai answered for him.
The doors didn't open.
They burst.
!BOOM!
Wood splinters. Wind rushes in.
A startled noble exclaimed, "What in heaven—?"
And Kai walked through—alone.
No sword. No armor. No allies.
Just hands. And memory. And years of stored violence, ready to burn.
Silence.
The nobles clutched their pearls, their children, their useless symbols of wealth.
One man tried to speak.
Kai didn't hear him.
He was looking at Sung-Min.
The last Jang heir.
The room held its breath.
Sung-Min gestured sharply. "Kill him."
Then from behind the folding screen, the bodyguard stepped out—Nam Gyu-Rin, the butcher of Yongin.
He cracked his neck.
Everyone watched.
Except Kai.
He was already moving.
Nam Gyu-Rin grinned.
He was fast. Strong. Trained.
But he made one mistake.
He thought this was a duel.
Kai didn't fight for sport.
He fought to end.
Gyu-Rin lunged—fast, brutal, committed.
Kai ducked. Slipped inside the strike.
Impact.
A sharp crunch—his palm collapsed cartilage with surgical precision.
A hollow thud—elbow into floating ribs, like striking rotted wood.
A wet snap—knee drove up into the sternum, and something inside Gyu-Rin gave way.
Three points of contact—each one a conversation between gods and bones.
Gyu-Rin stumbled back, coughing blood, teeth red.
Kai waited.
Because he wasn't done yet.
Gyu-Rin roared, charged with a soldier's fury—but no plan. Rage doesn't win fights.
Kai stepped inside the arc—too close for form, too tight for grace.
Grabbed the wrist. Twisted. Elbow up.
!POP!
Dislocation.
Then headbutt.
!CRACK!
Then silence—because Gyu-Rin's jaw unhinged like bad carpentry.
Kai spun behind, wrapped his arm around the man's throat. Squeezed.
Gyu-Rin kicked, bucked.
Didn't matter.
Then snapped his neck so fast, the body took a second to realize it was dead.
!THWACK!
He let it fall like garbage.
The room? Frozen.
Somewhere, a noble vomited.
One woman dropped her fan. Another soiled herself.
But Kai—he didn't even blink.
He turned to Sung-Min, whose mouth moved but made no sound.
The heir tried to back away.
But Kai stepped forward.
One step. Then another.
Every inch of him steady as prayer.
And the house that used to beat him?
That used to own him?
Now it held its breath.
...
"Where is your father?" Kai asked—not shouted, not snarled.
His voice was level. Measured but heavy.
Sung-Min didn't answer immediately. He straightened. Stepped forward to match the space between them.
"He's old. Sick. Dying," he said. "Everything you hoped to do to him… nature is doing already."
Kai didn't move. "That's not what I asked."
Sung-Min nodded slowly. "No. But that's the answer you deserve."
A silence stretched between them. Taut as a blade.
"You've changed," Kai said, eyes scanning Sung-Min like an old map. "You speak softer. Straighter."
Sung-Min chuckled bitterly. "Five years in the capital does that. I learned diplomacy. You—"
"Learned war," Kai finished.
Their eyes locked.
Sung-Min stood still.
Kai didn't look away.
"You're calm," Sung-Min said.
"Should I be shaking?" Kai asked.
Sung-Min looked at the floor, then back up.
"You were always quiet. I used to think it meant you were scared."
Kai took a step forward.
"No. I speak when it matters."
Another pause.
Sung-Min's voice dropped.
"And this? This matters?"
"No. This is what comes after."
Sung-Min nodded slowly.
"You think this makes things right?"
Kai's face stayed still.
"No. Just clear."
Then, as if honoring an unspoken agreement, both moved simultaneously.
Whoosh! Sung-Min lunged first, swift and decisive, each strike a testament to his training and his newfound humility. Kai moved fluidly, sidestepping with ease, countering without hesitation, his moves precise but ruthless, delivering blows that sent sharp jolts of pain through Sung-Min's body.
Thwack!
Sung-Min struck out with a powerful kick; Kai caught it, twisted harshly, and forced Sung-Min to the ground with a forceful slam—Bam!
Sung-Min gasped but rolled swiftly back to his feet, his breath uneven, acknowledging Kai's strength with a grim determination.
They clashed again, their blows rhythmic, fierce, and relentless. Sung-Min's attacks grew more determined, driven not by rage but by respect—a clear desire to grant Kai closure.
Kai responded fiercely, each maneuver demonstrating his resolve and the depth of his past suffering.
Crack!
Sung-Min's punch collided sharply against Kai's guard. Kai retaliated instantly.
Wham! His fist connected brutally with Sung-Min's ribs. Sung-Min stumbled but quickly regained his stance, jaw set tight, unwilling to yield.
Swish! Kai's powerful kick narrowly missed Sung-Min's head, the air whistling loudly with its speed.
Sung-Min countered swiftly, lunging forward—thud!
His fist hit Kai's abdomen, but Kai barely flinched, grabbing Sung-Min's arm and twisting viciously. Sung-Min winced in pain but did not retreat.
Sweat streamed down both faces, the fight extending longer than either anticipated, their breath labored and heavy.
Yet neither backed down, each driven by something deeper than mere victory. Sung-Min's moves became less about landing hits and more about proving his sincerity and change.
Kai's strikes remained severe, each one calculated, controlled aggression fueled by memories.
...
Up to this point, all the nobles in the room were calm as could be. Forty people stood nonchalantly, confident that they knew exactly how this "would end."
"Why hasn't anyone stopped this yet?" a noblewoman murmured.
"Patience," a man answered dryly. "The guards are coming."
Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted outside. Guards swiftly flooded the room, wearing dark jackets over loose trousers tucked neatly at their ankles, wide-brimmed hats shading their focused eyes. Each guard carried a spear or sheathed sword, ready to enforce order.
The nobles, previously composed, now rose with a chilling unity. Silken robes rustled as concealed daggers and short swords emerged from within their folds. Their eyes, once indifferent, now gleamed with a predatory intent.
Sung-Min's voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding: "End him."
In an instant, the room transformed into a battleground. Guards and nobles alike surged towards Kai, their movements a coordinated assault. A noblewoman, her jeweled hairpin now a weapon, aimed for Kai's neck. He ducked—whoosh!—the ornament embedding itself into a wooden pillar behind him.
Kai countered with precision, his fists a blur. Thwack! A guard's weapon flew off as Kai's kick connected.
Crack! A nobleman's wrist snapped under Kai's grip, his dagger clattering to the floor.
But the numbers were overwhelming. A blade grazed Kai's shoulder—slash!—blood seeping into his clothes. He winced, the pain sharp, but his stance remained unbroken.
Sung-Min advanced, his own blade drawn. "You've caused enough chaos," he sneered.
Their fists met—boom! Kai parried, but Sung-Min's next strike found its mark with his blade, a shallow cut across Kai's thigh.
Breathing heavily, Kai surveyed the encroaching circle of adversaries. His body ached, blood dripping from multiple wounds. Yet, his eyes burned with defiance. He adjusted his grip, readying himself for the next onslaught.
The room, once a place of opulence, now echoed with the sounds of battle—grunts, clashes, and cries. Kai stood amidst it all, a solitary figure against a tide of enemies, his resolve unwavering.
...
With his back against the crumbling wall, Kai closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. A faint glow emanated from his wounds as his magic coursed through him, knitting torn flesh and mending broken bones. His muscles tensed, strength returning, amplified beyond mortal limits.
A hush fell over the room, the nobles momentarily stunned by the spectacle.
"What... what is he?" one whispered, voice trembling.
"A demon? A god?" another murmured, eyes wide with fear.
Kai's eyes snapped open, now glowing with an otherworldly light. In a blur, he launched himself into the fray. He moved with unimaginable speed, a phantom weaving through the crowd. Slash! A noble's head rolled across the floor. Crash! A guard was hurled through a stained-glass window, shards raining down like deadly confetti.
"He's unstoppable!" a noble screamed, scrambling backward.
"Protect the heir!" another shouted, rallying the guards.
But their efforts were in vain. Thud! Kai slammed a guard into a marble pillar, the stone cracking under the force. A wave of energy erupted from his palm, sending a group of attackers flying, their bodies crashing through walls and furniture.
The once-opulent hall was now a battlefield, littered with debris and the fallen. Flickering lanterns cast eerie shadows, dancing over the carnage.
Amidst the chaos, Sung-Min stood his ground, sword drawn, face pale but resolute.
Kai approached, footsteps echoing ominously.
"This ends now," Sung-Min declared, charging forward.
Their clash was titanic. Clang! Steel met flesh as Kai deflected the blade, retaliating with a punch that sent Sung-Min sprawling, ribs shattered under the impact. A wrist broke as Kai caught another strike, twisting it mercilessly.
For twenty grueling minutes, the battle raged. Kai moved like a tempest, leaving devastation in his wake. The nobles' ranks thinned, their resistance crumbling.
Finally,
only Sung-Min remained, kneeling amidst the ruins, defeated.
Kai stood over him, breathing heavily, his gaze unwavering.
"Mercy..." Sung-Min gasped, blood trickling from his lips.
Kai paused, the room silent.
"There was no mercy for my people," he replied, voice cold.
He turned away, leaving Sung-Min to his fate, the echoes of his footsteps fading into the night.
"The longer I stayed a good man in this world, the more I realized the world deserved a monster."