Milo’s ears twitched as a distant chorus of armored boots slamming against the stone could be heard. The sound wasn’t just getting louder, but closer as well. His grip on his sword tightened, and his eyes flicked toward Kaiser, who was still standing over Aria.

  “Kaiser!” Milo called out sharply. “Get your ass in place, we’ve got company!”

  At the same time, Ivan was struggling with the cages, pounding on the steel bars in frustration. His fists, despite his strength, barely made a dent. “Oh, for the love of—how the hell do they expect me to break all these cages open by myself?!”

  Kaiser, with an almost lazy amusement, glanced down at the sword in his hand. He took a moment to appreciate it, admiring the edge, before flipping it effortlessly in his grip and tossing it toward Ivan.

  Ivan barely caught it, stumbling back as he looked at the golden blade in sheer wonder. It was impossibly light, yet it shone with an almost unnatural sharpness. Kaiser smirked, his red eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “It’s sharper than it looks, huh?”

  Ivan barely had time to respond before Kaiser leaned in, lowering his voice to a slow, deliberate threat.

  “Rescue Aria first,” he said, his tone so casual it sent chills down Ivan’s spine. “Or I swear to God, I will hunt you down, murder you and your sister, and make sure your graves are empty.”

  Ivan froze, his grip tightening on the sword instinctively. He looked up at Kaiser, waiting for a sign that he was joking, that maybe this was just some crude, twisted humor, but there was none. Just those burning red eyes, watching him like a predator watching its prey.

  And yet, as terrifying as that was, Ivan barely had time to process the threat. His mind was entirely focused on one thing, getting everyone out. His hands trembled for only a second before his instincts took over. He activated his ability, and in the blink of an eye, ten identical copies of himself materialized around him, each one wielding a perfect copy of the golden sword.

  Without hesitation, they moved. The first swing of the blade sliced through the steel bars like they were made of paper. The resistance was nonexistent. One by one, the cages burst open, releasing their sleeping captives into the arms of the waiting clones.

  Meanwhile, Kaiser finally turned away, stepping beside Milo, who stood in front of the broken wall, his expression darkening as the marching boots turned into shadows stretching down the hallway. “Think you’ll be alright without a weapon?” Milo asked, his voice steady but edged with subtle concern.

  Kaiser exhaled, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll get one soon enough.”

  And then they arrived. A hundred, maybe more Right Fist members flooded into the hallway like a storm of steel and anger, their weapons already drawn, their armor clanking as they formed tight formations. Among them, scattered throughout the ranks, were members of the city watch. But the way they carried themselves, the way their eyes flickered with uncertainty, set them apart. While the Right Fist men looked eager, almost giddy at the idea of cutting them down, the city guards were hesitant.

  Milo stood there, still as a statue, his eyes burning with something colder than anger, disappointment. His grip on his sword tightened, but he did not raise it. Not yet.

  The city guards, men he had once respected, men who had sworn an oath to protect the people, stood before him with weapons drawn. But their hands shook. Their faces were strained with something heavier than duty. Guilt.

  Milo exhaled, the weight of this moment sinking into his bones. Then, softly, almost like a whisper carried on the wind, he spoke. “A blade in the back is as sharp as the one to the throat. And yet, somehow… it always hurts more.”

  His voice carried through the hall, wrapping around the silence like a funeral shroud. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was the flickering torches, their flames swaying as if even they hesitated to witness what was about to unfold. And then a new sound was heard behind Milo and Kaiser.

  Footsteps. Ivan emerged from the shadows of the cages, his clones following behind, each one carrying a prisoner. The first, a blonde girl who was his sister. The second, Aria, her pink hair vibrant even in the dim torchlight. And the last, a noble-looking brunette, her elegant dress stained with dirt but somehow still regal.

  The sight of them sucked the air from the room and for a brief second, everything was frozen in place.

  “THEY’RE TAKING OUR MONEY!”

  It was the first scream that shattered the silence, and it was followed by a dozen more. The first wave of Right Fist members lunged forward, their rage drowning out their fear, their weapons raised high to cut down the intruders who dared to steal their "Money."

  But they never even reached their targets as Milo moved first.

  With a single step forward, his blade lashed out in a clean, unbroken arc. Three heads were severed from their bodies in one swing, rolling across the cold stone floor before their owners even realized they had died. Their bodies remained standing for a fraction of a second, as if their minds had not yet caught up to reality, before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

  The air filled with the sound of wet thuds, and a moment later, a sickening crack followed.

  Kaiser, with a casual flick of his wrist, had backhanded another man with such force that his skull shattered against the wall, painting the bricks with a gruesome splash of red. The body slumped to the floor, twitching, then went still.

  Kaiser let out a satisfied hum, stepping over the corpse without a second thought. He bent down, picking up the fallen man’s sword, testing the weight in his hand. Then, in a grandiose motion, he slashed the air in front of him, the blade cutting with a sharp whisper as if singing its own deadly tune.

  A grin played at his lips as he spun the sword once, then twice, effortlessly twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease, more for show than necessity. The Right Fist men took an instinctive step back, making the city guards step forward. Unlike the criminals, these men did not shake. They did not hesitate. They had trained for years, and their discipline was evident in the way they moved.

  Milo's eyes flicked to them, his expression unreadable.

  Kaiser, however, let out a low whistle. “Oh? You lot actually know what you’re doing.” He spun his newly acquired sword one last time before pointing it toward them lazily. “Good. I was getting worried, for you I mean.”

  A dozen city guards stepped forward, their eyes locked onto Kaiser with unwavering focus. The weight of betrayal sat heavy on Milo’s shoulders as he could not bring himself to strike down his former comrades, even if they had turned their blades against him. His fingers tightened around his sword, his expression conflicted.

  Kaiser, on the other hand, had no such hesitation.

  With a grin that barely concealed his anticipation, he lunged into the fray, moving like a force of nature. His first strike was effortless. His newly acquired sword tore through the first guard’s chest, cutting through his armor as if it were nothing more than paper. Blood sprayed in an arc, painting the cold stone beneath them.

  The moment he finished his swing, two more guards attacked, slashing at him from opposite sides. Kaiser ducked low, feeling the blades whistle just inches above his head, his is grin widening with each passing second. Before they could recover, he twisted on his heel and lashed out with a vicious roundhouse kick. The impact sent both men crashing to the ground, their helmets bouncing off their heads as they crumpled.

  But Kaiser didn’t stop moving. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled his sword at a guard standing a few paces back. The blade slammed into the man’s chest with such force that he was launched off his feet, his body crashing into a cluster of Right Fist members behind him. They toppled over like dominoes, their shocked expressions frozen in disbelief.

  Now weaponless, Kaiser showed no concern. Instead, he crouched low like a beast preparing to pounce, and then he leaped. His feet came down with sickening force upon the two guards he had just knocked over. Their skulls caved in beneath his weight, their bodies twitching for only a moment before going completely still.

  The remaining guards hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. Then, one of them thrust a long spear forward, the tip finding its mark… Right through Kaiser’s chest.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The force of the blow sent a deep shock through the hall, the sheer power of the strike making even the Right Fist members pause, and the other city guards didn’t waste a second as the blades impaled Kaiser from every direction. Swords plunged into his arms, his legs, his stomach, his back. Metal cleaved through flesh, breaking bones, severing tendons.

  Kaiser stood at the center of it all, his body skewered like a beast hunted down by a pack of wolves. The guards panted, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and triumph.

  The Right Fist members, still in the back, stared in horror at the man impaled before them. Their breath caught in their throats as they looked at the guard Kaiser had thrown, his corpse still lodged in their ranks.

  Milo sighed.

  It was tragic, in a way. These men, traitors though they were, did not deserve this fate. Perhaps if they had been more righteous, if they had not stained their hands with corruption, they could have lived long enough to see justice. But they had chosen to stand against the wrong man.

  And just as he finished the thought, life returned to Kaiser.

  With a sudden, horrifying movement, his hands shot up and grabbed two of the city guards by their helmets.

  Before they could even react, he smashed their heads together, their skulls shattering like fragile glass. Blood and brain matter splattered in all directions, painting the remaining guards in a sickening red mist.

  Kaiser’s fingers twitched. His hands, drenched in warm blood, trembled—not from pain, but from something else. He let out a long, shuddering breath, and then… He laughed.

  It started as a low chuckle, barely audible over the crackling torches, but then it grew.

  His shoulders shook, his chest heaved, and soon his laughter filled the entire chamber. It was wild, unhinged, something that no sane man should ever produce.

  The guards still holding their swords inside him recoiled in horror. His body twitched, blood oozing from his wounds—wounds that should have killed any normal man. But for Kaiser, they were nothing more than temporary inconveniences.

  He reached down and grabbed the spear that was still lodged in his chest, and instead of pulling it out, he pushed it in deeper. The spearhead erupted from his back, a fresh gush of blood spilling onto the stone floor. Yet he did not falter. He lunged at the guard who had impaled him, smashing his forehead into the man's skull with such ferocious force that bone shattered and brain matter sprayed the air.

  The guard stumbled back, collapsing onto the ground, his body twitching in its final moments. Kaiser, too, fell to the floor. His forehead was drenched in blood, his vision momentarily hazy, but his regeneration had already started working.

  As Kaiser’s regeneration kicked in, his shattered body mended itself with unnatural speed, the spear wound closing as though it had never been, pushing the spear out of him, and as he slowly rose, his crimson eyes gleamed with a grin that was no longer just a smile, but something darker, something hungry. For the first time in their lives, even the Right Fist members, seasoned in horrors, stood frozen in dread, unsure if the man before them was even human.

  Kaiser rolled his shoulders, feeling the last remnants of pain dissolve into nothingness. His crimson eyes scanned the stunned soldiers before him: the city guards, the Right Fist mercenaries, the so-called warriors who had believed, foolishly, that they could stand against him.

  He took a step forward, and the room collectively flinched.

  Then, with a voice dripping in amusement, he chuckled.

  “What’s wrong?” His words were casual, almost conversational. He lifted his hand, watching the way the blood dripped from his fingers. “Was that all? Surely you weren’t thinking that would be enough?”

  One of the city guards, still gripping his sword, stammered, “Y-you… you should be dead.”

  Kaiser tilted his head, his grin widening. “Dead?” He pressed a hand to his chest where the spear had impaled him, fingers tracing the place where the wound had been just moments ago. “Oh… you poor things. You really thought you won?”

  His laughter returned, louder this time, bouncing off the walls. “That’s adorable.”

  Then, without warning, he moved. The guard who had spoken barely had time to scream before Kaiser was upon him. With a single motion, Kaiser caught his head in his palm, gripping it like a fruit, and squeezed.

  CRUNCH.

  The skull shattered in his grasp, like an overripe melon bursting open. Blood sprayed out in a violent arc, splattering across the horrified faces of his comrades. Kaiser’s fingers twitched, letting the lifeless body crumple to the floor. He exhaled slowly, reveling in the sensation.

  The Right Fist mercenaries, in their blind fury, rushed forward. “Kill him! Cut him to pieces!”

  The first came from the side, swinging a heavy battle-axe. Kaiser stepped forward, his movements elegant, almost effortless. His body twisted like a dancer’s, dodging just enough for the blade to whistle past his ear.

  Then, before the attacker could recover, Kaiser’s fist lashed out, striking the man in the ribs. The impact was thunderous, like a cannon blast at close range. The man’s body lifted off the ground, flung backward, crashing into two others behind him.

  Without stopping, Kaiser caught another attacker’s wrist mid-swing and twisted.

  The sickening snap of bones breaking was followed immediately by a bloodcurdling scream. The mercenary fell to his knees, clutching the ruined limb, until Kaiser drove his knee into his face, silencing him forever.

  Milo, still gripping his sword, had not moved. His hands were clenched, his face unreadable. The city guards, despite everything, hesitated. They still knew him as their captain. Kaiser glanced at them, licking blood from his fingers. “Still unsure?” His voice was mocking, taunting. “That’s fine. Stay right there and watch. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  Another wave surged toward him, but this time with wariness in their eyes. Kaiser exhaled, and in that breath, the world seemed to go still. Then, he moved. He flowed through their attacks like wind through an open field. Every sword swing missed by mere inches, every spear thrust met only air. He weaved between them with grace, bending and twisting, making them strike at nothing but shadows.

  “Too slow.”

  He grabbed one soldier by the throat and lifted him with a single arm, holding him aloft like a toy. The man struggled, his hands clawing at Kaiser’s fingers, until Kaiser simply squeezed. The man’s throat caved in. His body spasmed, then fell limp.

  Kaiser dropped him and turned to the next, but this time, he did not use his hands. He lunged, biting down into the soldier’s neck. The taste of warm, pulsing blood flooded his mouth, as the soldier screamed a horrifying, guttural sound, before Kaiser tore away, leaving a gaping wound where flesh had once been.

  Another guard lunged at him, sword raised high, and Kaiser pivoted on his heel, allowing the blade to pass just inches from his ribs. In the same motion, he snatched the man by the throat and slammed him into the ground so hard that the stone cracked beneath him. The body went limp before the next breath could leave the poor bastard’s lungs.

  Another guard attempted to take advantage of the moment, swinging a curved saber down toward Kaiser’s exposed back. Without looking, Kaiser reached back, caught the incoming blade with his bare hand, and yanked the man forward. The guard stumbled, and Kaiser delivered a swift elbow to his face, shattering his nose in an instant. As the man staggered back, dazed, Kaiser grabbed his sword by the hilt and drove it straight through his throat.

  The dying man gargled, eyes bulging as he grasped at the blade embedded in his neck. Kaiser merely smirked and twisted the sword before yanking it free in a single, vicious motion. Blood sprayed outward, painting the stone floor in an ugly shade of red.

  His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as he let the corpse drop. “Oh? That’s it?” he taunted. He twirled the sword lazily in his grip, wiping the blood off with a flick of his wrist. “I expected at least one of you to put up a fight.”

  As the remaining city guards hesitated, shaken, the Right Fist mercenaries roared in fury and charged in unison. Kaiser laughed and stepped forward, ready to butcher them all, but before he could strike, a sharp, piercing pain erupted in his chest. He froze, his eyes widening slightly as a flicker of surprise crossed his face. Looking down, he saw a sword impaled straight through his heart, and behind him, a Right Fist soldier let out a triumphant grunt, gripping the hilt with both hands. "Got you, you bastard."

  Kaiser’s body slumped forward slightly. His crimson gaze dulled, lifeless… For all of four seconds.

  Then, in an instant, his head snapped back up, the light returning to his eyes. No… not just light. Something far worse.

  Kaiser exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if merely stretching. He tilted his head back, neck popping audibly. Then, in one smooth, merciless motion, he twisted around and drove the back of his hand into the soldier’s face with bone-crushing force. The impact was thunderous… Cheekbone shattered, teeth scattered like shards of glass, and the man's head snapped sideways with a sickening crack. His body followed a moment later, collapsing to the ground in a twitching, bloodied heap.

  Kaiser sighed. “Tch. Amateur.”

  With an almost bored expression, he grasped the sword still lodged in his chest and pulled it out in one slow, deliberate motion. Blood coated the steel, but before it could drip, Kaiser twirled the weapon elegantly, letting the force of the spin fling the blood off in a crimson arc. He then flipped the blade once in his grip before resting it on his shoulder.

  His eyes flickered toward the remaining Right Fist mercenaries, daring them to try again, but none of them moved.

  “I SWEAR TO THE GODS, KAISER!”

  Ivan’s voice rang through the chamber, frustration dripping from every syllable. Kaiser turned, tilting his head slightly. He spotted Ivan at the far end of the hallway, standing amidst the freed prisoners, but instead of moving them out, the young man looked furious.

  Ivan pointed at him accusingly. “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY WASTING TIME RIGHT NOW? WE HAVE A DAMN JOB TO DO!”

  Kaiser smirked. “I thought you were handling it.” Ivan stomped toward him, throwing his hands up. “I CAN’T! There are three cages I can’t break open!”

  That got Kaiser’s attention. His smirk faded, replaced with something colder. He turned on his heel, completely ignoring the remaining fighters in the room. Milo, still standing in place with his sword raised, blinked. “Wait, where are you going?”

  Kaiser didn’t stop walking. “You said you could handle this mission alone.”

  Milo stiffened as Kaiser glanced back over his shoulder, grinning like a devil. “I already took care of the city guard. Now you won’t have to feel bad about killing the rest.”

  Milo’s expression darkened. His grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. The air around him shifted and a sudden, violent gust sweeping through the chamber.

  Kaiser chuckled. “Ah… so you do have some fight in you.”

  The room groaned under the pressure as Milo’s wind magic surged. The torches flickered wildly, their flames threatening to extinguish under the raw force of his power.

  Then he started his attack. The first gust was nearly invisible. A razor-thin crescent of air sliced through the nearest Right Fist mercenary like paper. The man didn’t even react. He took a step forward, then… his upper body slid clean off his waist.

  The second gust followed immediately after, tearing through three more men at once. Their bodies split open in grotesque, diagonal cuts, blood spraying in every direction.

  Kaiser chuckled under his breath as he disappeared down the hall, following Ivan. “Have fun, old man.”

  Every victory counts! Whenever any of these milestones is reached, I’ll drop a Bonus Chapter as a reward! Hit them all, and you get even more!

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