Vizas had a reputation for being a brawler. In contrast, Mason had always been the quiet one, not even a real thug. Despite holding a knife, no one expected him to be able to handle a seasoned street fighter.
"Quit acting tough!" Vizas shouted, raising the brick.
But then something strange happened. Mason's hand, the one holding the knife, seemed to blur, almost disappear.
Vizas froze, confusion clouding his face, just before a sharp, burning pain erupted from his side.
"Aaaah! You bastard!" Vizas screamed, collapsing to the ground, clutching his bleeding side.
"Boss!" his men shouted, rushing to his aid.
Vizas writhed in agony, his mind racing. This was no ordinary knife fight. The Mason he knew had been scared of blood, weak, and passive. Now he fought like a maniac, his movements precise and merciless.
'This isn't just some martial arts trick… what the hell happened to him?'
Mason approached, twirling the knife in his hand. The men panicked, backing away as he got closer.
"Stay back! Are you trying to kill the boss?" one of them stammered.
Mason chuckled. "Relax. I didn't even cut him that deep."
"D-don't come any closer!" The men were visibly shaking, terrified by the change in Mason. The brainy kid they used to bully had suddenly turned into a weapon-wielding expert, and they couldn't understand it.
"He's possessed! A ghost must've possessed him!" one of them blurted out.
"A ghost?" Mason raised an eyebrow.
"How else can you explain this?!"
Mason let out a soft laugh. They were wrong about the ghost, but they weren't far off. The knife in his hand wasn't an ordinary weapon; it was a Mythic Item, and it was doing more than they realized.
'Possession-type Mythic Item...'
He recalled the ancient text etched into the blade. It was likely an Egyptian Mythic Item, once used by a high-ranking embalmer to cut open bodies with surgical precision. That explained why he could see through people's flesh and bones when he activated the knife.
Possession-type Mythic Items allowed their users to access the skills of the item's original owner. Even someone like Mason, who'd never trained with a weapon, could wield this knife like a seasoned killer.
'It's probably a C-Grade Mythic Item, a low-grade one, but rare right now,' Mason thought. 'In my past life, this would've been nothing special, but right now, it's valuable.'
He stepped closer to Vizas, who sat on the ground, pale and trembling like a cornered animal. "D-damn it, you freak!"
Vizas's pride wouldn't let him back down easily. This was the same Mason they had pushed around for years, and now he was making them look weak.
"Are you just going to stand there?! Get your weapons and finish him!" Vizas barked, trying to rally his men.
"Yes, boss!" they responded shakily.
Mason sighed, shaking his head. "You guys really don't know when to quit, do you?"
Mason pressed the knife against Vizas's throat, his expression cold. It wasn't a threat anymore, not with the sharp blade grazing his skin. Vizas felt a surge of panic. His pride as a man crumbled as he realized Mason could easily end him right there.
"Stop, Mason Monroe, you bastard!" Vizas whimpered, his voice trembling.
"Boss!" his men shouted, but their voices lacked conviction. They were just as scared.
Vizas, on the verge of tears, realized they were outmatched. The thugs he commanded were nothing compared to what Mason had become. Mason had survived in a world where people killed for Mythic Items without hesitation. This was nothing to him.
Vizas, clueless about Mason's past, trembled in fear. 'Did we push him to the point of insanity? Or is he really possessed by something?'
Whatever the cause, they had crossed a line they shouldn't have. Regret wouldn't help him now. His only option was to beg.
"I'm sorry! Please, forgive me!" Vizas stammered. "I'll get you your money—everything you're owed, I swear!"
Mason pulled the knife back, satisfied. "Good. You've got thirty minutes."
Even as he groveled, Vizas's mind raced, trying to concoct a way out. He wasn't ready to submit to Mason's demands without a fight. He needed time—time to turn the tables and crush Mason.
Vizas swallowed hard, coming up with a plan. "Uh, sir… about that…"
"What now?" Mason asked, eyes narrowing.
"We can't pull the money from the company account without the boss's permission," Vizas explained, faking sincerity.
"Oh, is that so?" Mason replied, his tone indifferent.
Vizas thought he had hooked Mason, a sly smile forming. "Yes, sir! We'll bring the cash, but we need a little more time to convince the boss."
His lackeys caught on to the plan and chimed in. "Yes, that's right! We need permission. Hehe."
'Once he gives us more time, we'll call in reinforcements. Maybe take his friend hostage,' Vizas thought, confident in their scheme. But their smugness vanished when Mason's voice cut through like ice.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid?"
The thugs froze as Mason's piercing gaze met theirs. His smile was mischievous, but his eyes were terrifying.
Without warning, Mason cracked his neck and then lifted his fist.
Mason started beating them relentlessly. His punches were calculated, always landing in the same spots. Bones cracked under the force, and the men crumpled, crying out in pain.
"Stop! Please! We're sorry!" Vizas wailed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face.
Mason ignored their pleas. "I never said to take money from the company account. You've got five minutes. Go get the cash."
The men, bruised and battered, were too shocked to respond. They had miscalculated, and now they were paying the price.
Meanwhile, Vizas clutched the phone, nervously listening to his sister Juliana's anger on the other end. Juliana, the head of a small art broker operation, was livid. They had a major deal lined up, and now Vizas was screwing everything up.
-What do you mean Mason Monroe quit?! What the hell is going on?!- Juliana shouted.
Vizas stammered, "W-we couldn't touch him, sis! He's completely different—he's like a martial arts expert now!"
-Are you kidding me? He's just some kid! You're telling me you let him walk all over you?-
"N-no, that's not it!" Vizas tried to explain, but Juliana wasn't having any of it.
-Forget it! Focus on the deal. You still have the sample, right?-
Vizas felt his stomach drop. The real problem was just beginning. "About that…"
-What is it now?-
"Mason… he took the art piece."
-What?! He took the Buddha statue?!- Juliana's voice rose with fury.
"Y-yeah, he said it was his overdue pay."
-You idiot! Do you know how valuable that statue is?! Do you even realize what you've done?!-
"And… he took all of our wallets too," Vizas added weakly, bracing for the inevitable.
Juliana's voice exploded with curses, her anger growing as she realized the gravity of the situation.
-Mason Monroe is close to the cops! What if he figures out what's hidden inside that statue?!-
"No! He won't figure it out. There's no way he'd know!" Vizas tried to reassure her, though he didn't believe it himself.
-I don't care! Get it back, now! And don't come home without it!-
The call ended with a sharp click. Vizas cursed under his breath, knowing they were in deeper trouble than before.
'This is all Mason Monroe's fault!'