The afternoon felt heavy, the sun pressing down on the city like a weight. Somewhere inside an office building, within a cramped cabin, tension coiled thick in the air.
The manager sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee trembling slightly on its saucer as his voice exploded.
"You are so useless! I gave you chances, but you failed again!" he yelled, furious eyes locked onto the employee standing 5 to 6 steps away from the manager.
The employee tried to explain, his voice shaking. "Sir, I tried, but they didn't exc—"
"You're fired!" the manager snapped. "Now don't show me your face again."
The words pierced like needles. The employee stood frozen for a second, his throat tight, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Boom.
A small explosion erupted behind the manager's table. Dust and debris burst into the room, shards of wood and glass scattering across the floor. The manager cried out as a fragment scraped his face, leaving a shallow cut.
As both the manager and the employee struggled to process what had happened, the dust slowly settled.
A figure was crouched low on the table.
It was Mike.
His clothes were soaked in blood, raw scars carved across his skin. He held Aki in his arms—unconscious, yet completely unharmed, not a single scratch on her.
"What are you looking at?" Mike said calmly.
The manager's face drained of color, his body locked in place, eyes unable to move away from Mike and Aki in his arms.
Mike raised his hand.
Burst!
With a single one-inch punch, the manager's head shattered like glass. Blood exploded outward, painting the walls, the chair, and the table in red.
The employee let out a strangled gasp, his eyes bulging as he staggered backward, silently begging for his life. His foot pressed down on something soft.
Something that wasn't his.
Slowly, trembling, he turned his head.
Behind him stood Ghost.
Dark circles sank beneath his eyes, his empty gaze locked onto the employee.
The employee tried to scream.
Click. Slash. Click.
Ghost calmly sheathed his chokuto back into its scabbard.
For a split second, nothing happened. Time itself seemed to pause.
Then the employee's body slid apart, falling in clean, horizontal pieces. The cut was mechanical—too precise, too perfect. Even as his body separated, his heart continued to beat, his mind still conscious, as if his body had not yet realized it was already dead.
Mike gently lowered Aki onto the table. His movements were slow, careful. Exhaustion dragged at his body, dizziness blurring the edges of his vision, but he forced himself to stay upright.
Silence pressed down on the room.
It wasn't peaceful—it screamed. The concrete walls trapped the heavy smell of dust, blood, and metal, making the air feel thick in his lungs.
In the blink of an eye, Mike vanished.
He reappeared directly in front of Ghost, his fist tearing through the air in a blur, aimed straight for Ghost's face.
Shing!
Ghost's chokuto moved first.
A single vertical swing—clean, merciless.
Mike's palm split into two halves.
His eyes widened in shock at Ghost's speed. Pain exploded through his arm, but instinct took over. He twisted his body and slammed a kick into Ghost's face.
The impact sent Ghost hurling backward, crashing into the building across the road from where Mike and Aki stood.
Mike staggered back, breathing hard. He ripped a strip of cloth from the cabin and wrapped it tightly around his mangled palm, blood seeping through almost instantly.
"He really is a monster," Mike thought, his gaze flicking back to Aki lying motionless on the table.
He clenched his teeth.
Mike couldn't give up.
He had no choice.
Mike's eyes widened as fear crawled through his body.
From the shattered building where Ghost had crashed, a figure stood at the edge of the broken wall. Ghost held a familiar stance—low, precise, lethal. Mike's nerves screamed at him to run.
He knew that stance.
It was the same move Ghost had used to cut an entire building in half.
But what truly terrified Mike wasn't the stance.
It was the fact that Ghost wasn't there anymore.
He was beside Mike.
Inside the cabin.
Close enough for death to breathe against his skin.
Ghost raised his chokuto, the blade slicing diagonally through the air, aimed straight at Mike's torso.
Beep. Beep.
The sound cut through the moment.
Ghost froze.
His eyes flicked to his wrist. The watch blinked softly.
Without hesitation, he stopped mid-swing, smoothly sheathed the chokuto, and turned away.
He walked toward the broken wall of the cabin as if Mike no longer existed.
Mike stood frozen, confusion clouding his thoughts, his breath trapped in his chest.
Ghost stepped off the shattered edge.
Wind roared past him as his clothes fluttered violently. He fell—but landed cleanly on the road below, knees bending just enough to absorb the impact.
Then he vanished.
Disappearing between moving cars and unaware crowds.
Yet the fear he left behind didn't fade.
It clung to the air.
To the streets.
To Mike's shaking breath.
Mike breathed heavily, each breath ragged and uneven. Blood loss crept through his body, a slow drain that made the world feel distant and unstable.He fell to the floor with a dull thud.
The room blurred.
Through the haze, a figure came into focus.
Mike forced his eyes open, his voice low, broken with exhaustion.
"You arrived…"
The words barely left his lips.
Then everything went dark.
Mike lost consciousness.