It was late into the night, and the streets of Malian City lay shrouded in dim shadows. The faint light of scattered street lamps cast narrow pools of illumination on the cracked pavement, barely revealing the world beyond. The air felt heavy, a quiet tension lingering as if something dangerous lurked just out of sight.
Harry stood motionless under one of these lights, his gaze fixed ahead. The dark figure of a person stumbled out from the building across the street. His heart skipped a beat as the figure moved closer and the weak light illuminated her face. It was Karina.
Her usually composed features were flushed, her steps unsteady. She looked as though she'd just emerged from a storm. Scattered scratches adorned her arms and legs, faint streaks of dried blood marking her pale skin. Her disheveled hair fell loosely over her face as she clutched her side, every movement heavy with exhaustion and pain.
Harry stayed where he was, watching her from the shadows. She stumbled to a nearby corner, gripping the wall for support, before collapsing onto the cold ground. He clenched his fists, torn between rushing to her side and keeping his distance, unsure of what he was witnessing.
Karina, unaware of his presence, tried to push herself back to her feet. Her body trembled with the effort, and her breaths came in shallow gasps. Malian City was no place for anyone to be wandering alone at night, least of all someone in her condition. The streets were rife with danger; gangsters, opportunistic thieves, and those who thrived in the darkness.
She knew she needed to move, to get home, to find safety. But the pain radiating through her body and the overwhelming fatigue made each step an ordeal. Eventually, her strength gave out. She sank back onto the ground, leaning against the wall. Her breathing slowed as she closed her eyes, defeated.
In the stillness, the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the street. Karina's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding. Someone was approaching, their steps deliberate and slow. The figure grew clearer with every passing second; a man. He was walking straight toward her.
Her mind raced with panic. Who was it? A predator? Another drunk? Someone worse?
But then, in her drunken haze, a reckless grin spread across her face. If this was danger, she would meet it head-on. "What is it?" she slurred, her voice tinged with mock defiance. "You wanna join me in bed? Go ahead. Make my night worse."
But her smirk faded as the man stepped fully into the light, and her blood ran cold. It wasn't a stranger, it was Harry.
He didn't say a word at first, just crouched in front of her, his expression calm yet unreadable. Finally, he extended his hand. "Do you want to rest somewhere?" His voice was soft but firm, cutting through the tense silence like a knife.
Karina stared at him, blinking as if she couldn't believe he was really there. She hesitated before murmuring his name, "Zack…" Her voice was low, almost a whisper, weighed down by a mix of emotions; shame, surprise, relief. She felt small and exposed under his gaze.
Harry didn't react to her hesitation. He didn't chide her, didn't question her, didn't even flinch. He simply stood and helped her to her feet, his movements steady and gentle. She wobbled but leaned on him for support.
"What happened?" he asked after a long silence. His tone was steady, but his eyes betrayed a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.
"It's nothing," she said quickly, brushing him off. "I just… fell."
He knew she was lying. But he also knew better than to press her. Instead, he nodded silently and began guiding her down the street, searching for a safe place for her to recover.
Before they could go far, however, the faint sound of laughter reached them, followed by the clatter of boots on stone. A group of men emerged from the shadows, blocking their path. Their leader, a burly man with a smug grin, stepped forward. His presence was oppressive, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Master Glenn asked me to pass along a message," he said, his voice dripping with mock respect. "He's very pleased with your… performance tonight. He wants you to come back tomorrow."
Karina stiffened beside Harry, her body trembling. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Harry stepped forward, placing himself between her and the gang.
"Where is your master?" he asked, his voice unnervingly calm.
The leader let out a bark of laughter. "You? You think you're worthy of meeting Master Glenn? Do you even know who—"
'CRACK.'
The man's words were cut short as Harry moved faster than anyone could react. His fist slammed into the thug's chest with bone-crushing force, sending him flying several feet before he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. The sound of the impact echoed through the street, silencing the gang in an instant.
Harry turned to the remaining men, his eyes cold and unyielding. "If you're going to lead the way, then do it. Otherwise…" He stepped forward, his tone dropping dangerously low. "Do you want to die here tonight?"
The gang exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence evaporating in the face of his unflinching presence. One by one, they backed away, the leader still motionless on the ground.
Harry turned back to Karina, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Let's go," he said simply.
Karina stared at him, her emotions warring within her; gratitude, guilt, and a tinge of fear. The brother she had known was gone. The man standing beside her now was someone different, someone who had seen the darkness of the world and learned how to fight it. She nodded weakly, letting him lead her away into the shadows of the city.
The sound was sharp, almost deafening, and it echoed across the empty street.
The sturdy man's head exploded like a crushed watermelon, the fragments of bone and flesh scattering in all directions. Blood splattered across the ground, painting the scene in a gruesome red. The few who remained standing froze, terror etched on their faces. Silence followed, heavy and oppressive.
Harry stood amidst the carnage, his expression calm, almost detached, as if the chaos surrounding him didn't register. His eyes flickered once toward Karina, who watched from behind, her face pale, her body trembling.
---
Meanwhile, inside a lavish manor not far away, the atmosphere was one of indulgence and decadence. A grand banquet was about to begin. Glittering chandeliers hung above the massive hall, casting a golden light on the expensive tapestries, flowing curtains, and marble floors. The host, Glenn, sat lounging on a plush velvet couch, two young women draped over him. Their laughter rang out, a stark contrast to the growing tension outside.
But Glenn's revelry was interrupted by the distant echo of screams and commotion. His brow furrowed in irritation. "What the hell is all that noise?" he snapped, pushing one of the women off him with little regard.
A middle-aged man standing nearby gave a curt nod. "I'll go check, Master Glenn."
The man left quickly, his footsteps fading down the hall. Glenn leaned back, shaking his head in annoyance. "Can't people let me enjoy one evening without—"
He didn't get to finish. Moments later, the same man returned. Or rather, his head did.
The severed head tumbled into the room with a grotesque squelch, rolling to a stop near Glenn's feet. A slick trail of blood followed, soaking the pristine floor. The women screamed, scrambling away in terror. Glenn's face drained of color as he stared, horrified.
And then 'he' walked in.
Harry stepped into the room, his footsteps deliberate, his face eerily calm. The rich surroundings did nothing to slow his advance. He walked past the cowering guests and stopped directly in front of Glenn, who was now struggling to his feet.
"Are you Glenn?" Harry asked, his voice cold and steady.
Glenn swallowed hard, his bravado faltering under the intensity of Harry's gaze. "Who… who are you?" he stammered, taking a step back.
Before Harry could reply, a loud gasp came from the back of the hall. "Master Zack!" an elderly voice cried.
Harry turned his head slightly, recognizing the man hurrying toward him. It was Bill Clinton, a wealthy merchant who held considerable influence in Malian City. Harry had met him before, back when he had first been introduced to the world of politics and power as the deputy director of the Red Bird Dojo.
"Mr. Clinton," Harry said, inclining his head slightly. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Clinton's face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. "Master Zack," he said quickly, bowing low. "I assure you, I had no idea—"
"Save it," Harry interrupted, his tone dismissive. "This isn't about you. But if you interfere, it 'will' be."
Clinton gulped, visibly trembling. "I wouldn't dream of interfering," he said hurriedly. He turned to Glenn, his tone suddenly harsh. "Glenn, kneel down. Now!"
Glenn blinked, stunned. "What?" he exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "Father, what are you—?"
"Kneel!" Clinton roared. He motioned to two burly men at his side, who immediately grabbed Glenn and forced him to the ground. Thick chains were thrown over his shoulders, locking him in place. Glenn struggled, shouting angrily, but it was no use.
Harry watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. "Decisive," he remarked, tilting his head at Clinton. "You've turned on him rather quickly."
"Master Zack, please," Clinton said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "He is 'not' my son. He's… he's merely a child I took in for a friend. He's nothing to me."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Convenient," he murmured.
Clinton pressed on, his voice desperate. "You may deal with him as you see fit, Master Zack. I won't interfere. I only ask that you spare me and my family."
Harry regarded him in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. I'll take you at your word."
Without warning, Harry raised his foot and brought it down with devastating force. The sound of Glenn's skull shattering was loud and final, the sickening crunch followed by the splatter of blood and brain matter. Glenn's body slumped to the floor, lifeless.
The room fell deathly silent. Blood pooled across the marble, creeping toward Clinton's feet. The merchant stood frozen, his face pale and his hands trembling.
Behind Harry, Karina watched the scene unfold, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt as though she were in a nightmare, the events surreal and horrifying. She barely recognized the man standing before her, this was her brother, yes, but he had become something…, unyielding.
Harry turned to face her, his expression softening for a brief moment. But it wasn't enough to mask the chasm that had grown between them. Karina felt a wave of emotions crash over her; fear, confusion, and a tinge of admiration.
As the blood continued to seep across the floor, Harry spoke quietly to her. "Let's go," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.
Karina nodded wordlessly, following him out of the manor. The once-lavish banquet hall now lay in ruin, a silent testament to the man her brother had become.