For a moment, there was only silence.

  The underground passage remained eerily still, with only the distant drip of water and the quiet, steady breaths of the three men breaking the stillness. Kaiser leaned against the rough stone wall, arms crossed, exuding an air of casual patience, though his muscles remained ready. Milo, standing just ahead, was unnaturally still, his gaze fixed on the marked section of the wall before them. Ivan stood just behind them, shifting slightly, his posture watchful but quiet.

  Then… BOOOOOOOOOM.

  The explosion roared through the underground like a beast finally breaking free from its cage. The entire world trembled, the force of the blast tearing through the air with a deep, thunderous shockwave. The old windmill above had been reduced to splinters in an instant, its unstable structure unable to withstand the sheer violence of the detonation.

  The tunnel beneath their feet shuddered, dust raining from the ceiling in thick plumes. The distant sound of cracking timber, toppling stone, and shattering glass filled the air. The concussive force was so powerful that it sent a small gust of air rushing through the tunnels, carrying the scent of burnt powder and splintered wood.

  The explosion was near, but not here. The Right Fist’s hideout had not been touched. Not yet. Above them, through layers of earth and stone, distant screams echoed. The frantic, panicked shouts of slavers and guards trying to make sense of what had just happened. Orders were being barked, boots slamming against wooden floors. Chaos had begun.

  But down in the tunnel, where the trio stood, there was no urgency.

  The dust continued to settle, the reverberations still fading through the walls, yet Milo remained perfectly still, his hands at his sides, unmoving. Kaiser, who had been watching the ceiling for any sign of collapse, finally scoffed and exhaled. "So… we’re just going to stand here while half the city loses its shit?"

  Milo didn’t look at him. "We move when it’s time." Kaiser rolled his eyes at that.

  Another beat passed. Then, Milo exhaled slowly and reached for his weapon and the moment he did that, the air changed.

  A sudden burst of sharp, cutting wind erupted from the blade as soon as it was freed. The motion was fluid, precise and dangerous. A deep, whistling sound filled the underground passage, like the howl of a storm given shape. The wind lashed out like invisible blades, kicking up dust and making Kaiser’s coat whip against his legs.

  Even Ivan flinched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he instinctively braced himself.

  Kaiser, however, was grinning.

  "Oh, that’s good," he muttered, voice low with amusement. "That’s really good."

  The air itself seemed sharpened around Milo, as if the blade in his hands had a hunger for battle. Kaiser could feel it—the presence of a fighter, someone who could carve through flesh and bone with terrifying ease. For a brief moment, the thrill of a possible fight between them burned in Kaiser’s mind. His hands twitched slightly, his instincts screaming at him to test this man, to see how deep that sword could cut, how fast it could move.

  But he pushed the thought away.

  ‘Aria.’

  He had one goal tonight.

  Still, he couldn’t resist the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don’t exactly give off ‘retired Liberator’ energy," he remarked, eyes still locked on the sword. "If anything, you look like you should still be active."

  Milo didn’t react. He simply flicked his sword once, dispersing the lingering wind that had swirled around them. "Ready?" he asked, his voice calm, unreadable.

  Kaiser rolled his shoulders, his smirk widening. "You already know the answer." Milo turned toward the marked wall. The sounds of the panicked slavers above were growing louder, more frantic. He took a slow step forward, raising his sword.

  "Then let’s move."

  With a single, fluid slash, his blade carved through the air, releasing an invisible force of wind that slammed into the marked wall.

  The effect was instantaneous, as sharp howl of slicing air filled the tunnel and the stone wall shattered into a thousand precise fragments, diced so cleanly that for a second, the structure held together in its original shape before collapsing all at once. The debris crumbled apart, forming a fine mist of dust in the air as the path ahead was revealed.

  Not stopping, Milo spun on his heel and flicked his sword toward the opposite wall. Another burst of cutting wind followed, but this time, controlled, deliberate. The second wall split open, revealing two small, hidden openings within the stone.

  He barely needed to speak; instead, he pointed at them, and Ivan immediately understood. That was the entrance to the Drillex. The underground escape route. Kaiser, who had been standing off to the side, watching with mild amusement, suddenly burst into laughter.

  It wasn’t a small chuckle, either, it was a full, deep roar of amusement, his voice bouncing off the tunnel walls as he gripped his stomach.

  Milo frowned, until his eyes followed Kaiser’s gaze and finally noticed it.

  In the wreckage of the first wall, amid the shattered stone and scattered debris, was a dead man sitting on a toilet. Or rather—what was left of him. The poor bastard had been in the middle of his business when Milo’s wind had sliced through the stall, through the walls, and through him in one effortless motion. His upper half had slid clean off, collapsing onto the ground with a lifeless thud.

  Milo sighed, shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time his sword had unintentionally massacred someone mid-shit, but it was never not ridiculous. Then, despite himself, a small, involuntary snort of laughter escaped him.

  Kaiser’s head snapped up at that. His grin widened. "Oh? You actually have a sense of humor?"

  Milo immediately suppressed the expression and turned away. "Move."

  Still grinning, Kaiser followed, and Ivan trailed just behind him. Stepping through the ruined entrance, the trio entered a completely different world. For a criminal organization known for trafficking, blood money, and underground dealings, the Right Fist certainly had taste.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The interior was stunning. The floors were polished marble, reflecting the soft golden glow of lanterns lining the walls. Intricately woven rugs were spread across the ground, adding warmth to the otherwise cold stone structure. Even the ceilings were beautifully decorated, carved with intricate swirling patterns, depictions of wealth, battle, and power. It was absurdly extravagant for a group of slavers, a stark contrast to the filth and suffering they caused outside these walls.

  Kaiser scoffed. "Huh. They’ve got money, that’s for sure."

  Milo didn’t respond. He simply moved forward, stepping silently. His posture was cautious, his sharp eyes scanning the halls. And then they noticed something that relieved them, and that was that there were no guards. For a hideout this size, especially after an explosion had just gone off, the fact that they hadn’t encountered a single patrol was… odd.

  Milo held up a hand, silently signaling them to slow down. Kaiser, for once, obeyed. The trio moved carefully, their steps barely making a sound as they passed ornate doorways and luxurious furniture that looked like it belonged in a noble’s estate rather than a den of criminals.

  As they reached the corner of the hallway, Milo raised a hand, halting them before peeking around the edge. He saw three guards stood in front of a large, reinforced door, one of them a broad-shouldered, scarred brute clad in thick armor with a heavy weapon strapped to his back.

  "That’s the storage room," Milo whispered. "We need to be quick."

  Kaiser grinned. "Ready when you are."

  And then, Milo vanished. In an instant, his form dissolved into a rushing gust of wind, a streak of movement so swift and seamless that it seemed as if the air itself had taken a blade and gone on the offensive. The guards at the storehouse door never even had the chance to react as a blur of silver cut through the air, and in a fraction of a second, Milo reappeared behind them, his sword held low, its edge gleaming.

  For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, deep red lines carved across the guards’ throats and torsos, followed by a sudden gush of blood. Their bodies twitched, then crumpled into a lifeless heap, weapons slipping from their hands and clattering dully against the floor. Milo exhaled, sliding his sword back into its sheath in one swift motion.

  Kaiser walked past him, then turned toward the door, and lifted his golden sword with both hands. If this was the storehouse, then Aria was right behind this door, and that was all that mattered to him. With one powerful downward slash, his blade struck the metal doors.

  CLANG!

  His sword bounced off, making Kaiser blink in surprise. "The hell?" Milo sighed, shaking his head as he stepped forward. With a casual motion, he drew his blade, its surface shimmering faintly as it hummed with cutting wind.

  CLANG!

  The exact same result. The sword bounced off, completely ineffective. Milo clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. "Hmph."

  Kaiser sheathed his blade. He cracked his knuckles, and then, without a second thought.

  BOOM.

  He punched the door with all his might. A sharp, sickening crunch rang out as his own bones shattered from the sheer impact. But the door? Completely unmoved.

  Kaiser stared at it for a long moment, expression unreadable, before clenching his fist as his body immediately started regenerating. "Alright. That was bullshit." Milo, watching with mild disappointment, exhaled through his nose. "I’m genuinely amazed. That might have been the dumbest thing I’ve seen today."

  Milo sighed, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand. "They enchanted it. I should have guessed."

  Ivan, meanwhile, had crouched beside the corpses, rummaging through their pockets. "No keys," he muttered. Kaiser paused, frowning. "That’s weird."

  Milo shook his head. "Not really. These guys were just guarding the storage. Only the higher-ups carry keys to a reinforced door like this." He narrowed his eyes at the green sigils still glowing faintly. "Breaking through this thing would take me around ten minutes, not that big of a problem."

  Kaiser cracked his neck. "Then we’re not bothering with the door." Rolling up his sleeves, he clenched his fists and, without hesitation, drove a punch into the wall beside it. Milo’s eye twitched. "You have got to be kidding me."

  Another punch landed, and another crack of bone was heard, almost instantly rebuilding as Kaiser’s insane regeneration kicked in. Blood smeared the wall, but the marble and reinforced stone weren’t enchanted like the door.

  BOOM!

  Finally, the wall gave in, blasting open a hole large enough to step through. As the dust settled, Milo and Ivan stared while Kaiser flexed his hands, bones snapping back into place. His smirk widened. "Door’s open."

  Kaiser stepped through the gaping hole in the wall, his boots crunching over broken stone and dust. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside the storage room, his gaze landed on the four men standing within—or rather, trembling inside.

  The Right Fist guards, the firm and battle-ready warriors had gone pale. Their hands quivered on their weapons, their faces slick with sweat, their breath ragged.

  They had just witnessed a man break through a solid, reinforced wall with his bare fists. One of them stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a wooden crate. Another gasped as he gripped his sword, his knuckles turning white. The largest among them, the one who looked like he might actually try to fight, couldn’t stop his hand from shaking.

  Kaiser moved the instant he saw them, his golden blade slicing through the air with a terrifying grace, his movements almost resembling a dance. What made it worse, what made the Right Fist guards feel true horror, was that Kaiser dodged attacks that never even came.

  He moved like a phantom, his body slipping through unseen attacks, dodging before his enemies could even react. His sword sang, and it became a blur of motion too fast to follow. A single breath. A single second. Then—blood sprayed through the air. Four guards collapsed simultaneously, their bodies falling apart in precise, perfect pieces.

  Milo, stepping in behind Kaiser, barely had time to react before all the enemies were dead. He had seen speed. He had seen power. But there was something brutal about how Kaiser fought… Not just as a warrior, but as a beast in human form, something feral hidden beneath the sharp grin and carefree attitude. The only sound that followed was the soft clinking of Kaiser’s sword as he flicked the blood from its edge. Milo exhaled sharply, watching as the last body hit the ground. He hadn’t even raised his weapon.

  He opened his mouth, perhaps to compliment, perhaps to say something witty, but Kaiser was already gone. Before Milo could even register it, Kaiser had dashed ahead, his figure vanishing between the rows of metal cages deeper in the storage room. Ivan, without hesitation, ran in after him, his small frame darting between iron bars, frantically searching.

  Kaiser’s heart pounded in his chest as he moved, but not from exertion, but from the sheer weight of urgency pressing down on him. Every step he took, every face he examined, only fueled his frustration. He had prepared himself for something horrific, expecting bruised and beaten captives, the kind of misery he had witnessed in slave pens before, but instead, what he found was eerie. Too clean. Too quiet.

  All of them were simply sleeping.

  His sharp red eyes flickered from one unconscious figure to the next, taking in their unnaturally peaceful expressions, their unnerving stillness. The air was thick with a strange, almost medicinal scent, and that was when it clicked.

  ‘A drug.’

  A place like this, built to store human beings as if they were mere merchandise, would need a way to keep them manageable. Slaves that didn’t cry, that didn’t scream, that didn’t resist—made for easier transactions.

  He gritted his teeth and kept moving, his focus narrowing to a singular goal.

  'I need to find her as soon as possible!'

  But then, suddenly he heard Ivan’s scream.

  “Sister!”

  Ivan’s voice rang out through the storehouse, sharp and filled with relief. Kaiser glanced over his shoulder, and in that moment, he spotted her. Amidst the countless caged bodies, the unmistakable sight of soft pink hair caught his eye.

  With no hesitation, Kaiser lunged forward, seizing the bars of her cage. The iron groaned under the pressure of his grip, bending, warping, before finally snapping apart as he tore the entire door off its hinges. The sound echoed through the room like the cracking of thunder, but he didn’t care, his focus was entirely on her.

  Without another thought, he stepped inside, crouching down and wrapping his arms around her limp form, pulling her into his chest. His grip was firm yet careful, his usually rough hands surprisingly gentle as they held onto her sleeping body.

  She was warm, alive and safe.

  His fingers instinctively brushed against her face, tucking strands of pink hair away from her closed eyes as a grin tugged at his lips. “Well, well,” he muttered, amusement lacing his voice. “Took me long enough, didn’t it?”

  She didn’t respond, of course—still under the effects of whatever drug they had used to keep these prisoners subdued, but it didn’t matter to him. He had found her.

  He exhaled, his grip on her tightening slightly as he rose back to his feet, holding her securely in his arms.