"Spare me! Please! I'll give you everything—the Black Blade, my men—just let me live!"
The once-mighty Hideki Nozaki was reduced to nothing. He lay in a growing pool of his own blood, his severed legs twitching, his face twisted in agony. Dignity? Power? They meant nothing now. Survival was all that mattered.
SLASH!
Blake didn't respond. Instead, he drove his sword through both of Hideki's hands, pinning them to the ground like an insect on display.
Another bloodcurdling scream tore through the night.
Hideki's body convulsed, the pain unbearable. His once-proud hands—the hands that had orchestrated countless murders, betrayals, and power plays—were now utterly useless.
Escape was no longer an option.
Blake pulled his blade free, the crimson-streaked steel gleaming under the factory lights. He turned away, his work not yet finished.
More screams rang out in the distance—raw, desperate wails that echoed through the industrial district. One by one, Blake hunted them down, his movements silent, merciless, efficient.
Minutes later.
The last straggler lay at his feet, his lifeless body still warm.
Blake spun his sword once, flinging the excess blood off the blade, painting crimson arcs on the concrete. Then, with a practiced motion, he sheathed it, turning back toward the carnage he had left behind.
The Black Blade was finished.
Standing over Hideki's trembling form, Blake's icy gaze bore into him.
"Make a call," he ordered. "Summon every last Black Blade member to the main Hall. I might consider letting you live."
Hideki's eyes lit up with sudden hope.
"You'll really let me go?" His voice was weak, desperate.
Blake's hand tightened around the black handgun he had taken from Hideki, raising it slightly.
"Stop wasting time." His voice was impatient, cold.
The thick, suffocating aura of death that surrounded him made Hideki's entire body tremble uncontrollably. He had no doubt—this man would kill him without a second thought.
Shaking fingers dialed a number.
"Godou? It's me."
He forced his voice to stay steady, masking his terror.
"Order every Black Blade member to assemble at Hall immediately. I don't care what they're doing—if they don't show, they'll answer to the first rule."
The voice on the other end stammered a panicked confirmation.
Hideki exhaled sharply, hanging up. He looked up at Blake with a forced, pathetic smile, like a man clinging to a last lifeline.
And then—
BANG!
A single gunshot.
The bullet tore through Hideki's skull, snuffing out his life in an instant. His body slumped, eyes still wide with shock.
Why?
Why kill him after he obeyed?
Blake's expression remained unreadable as he tossed the gun aside.
"To still beg for life at this point…" He let out a quiet scoff. "Pathetic."
He turned away, stepping over Hideki's corpse as if it were nothing more than discarded trash.
Finding a supply of motor oil from the factory's forgotten storage, he doused the bodies. The sharp scent of gasoline filled the air.
A flick of a lighter.
The fire roared to life, consuming the remains of over a hundred men.
Without a second glance, Blake slid into Hideki's luxury black sports car, its sleek leather interior still reeking of expensive cologne and blood.
With a smooth turn of the wheel, he disappeared into the night.
---
Ten minutes later.
A convoy of police cars screeched to a stop outside the abandoned factory.
What they found inside stopped them cold.
Flames devoured the corpses, casting dancing shadows on the blood-soaked walls.
The officers stared in horror. Some staggered back, bile rising in their throats. A few turned and vomited outright.
The Black Blade Group had been under surveillance for some time—the police had been preparing for a large-scale raid. But this?
This was something else.
The captain stepped forward, his face grim.
"Captain, these are confirmed Black Blade members," an officer reported, his voice tight. "Looks like a turf war."
The captain frowned. "A turf war? But who else could match Black Blade in this city?"
No answer came.
Because deep down, they all knew the truth.
This wasn't the work of a rival gang.
This was the work of one man.
And that thought sent a chill through every officer present.
---
Main Hall
As the police tried to make sense of the massacre, Blake had already moved on to the next phase.
Using the car's GPS, he pinpointed—the Black Blade's main headquarters.
Pulling up to the lavish building, he took a moment to observe it. Golden lights, intricate carvings, grand pillars.
A monument to wealth and arrogance.
A slow smirk spread across his lips.
"Leaving the roots intact only invites trouble."
Two young guards stood at the entrance, their postures relaxed, expecting to see their boss step out of the luxury car.
Instead, they saw a silver-haired stranger, dressed in black, stepping out with a sword in hand.
Their confusion turned to alarm.
"Who the hell are y—"
SWISH!
Two clean strikes.
The guards didn't even have time to scream.
A thin red line appeared across their throats—then, blood sprayed, and their bodies crumpled, choking on their own lifeblood.
Blake didn't slow down.
He stepped over their corpses without a second thought, his expression devoid of emotion.
After killing so many, he had long since stopped wasting time on unnecessary effort.
There was only one thing left to do.
End the Black Blade.
Completely.
-----
Re Worked