The silence after the door was destroyed was almost absolute.
Smoke slowly dissipated, revealing the intruder walking forward with calm, measured steps.
Arthur lifted his gaze, and the cold glint in his eyes made it clear—he wasn't there to intimidate anyone. He was there to finish something.
Kingpin watched him in silence for a few seconds. His broad face, his white suit now stained with dust, and the simmering rage pulsing through every muscle in his neck.
Arthur smiled with contempt.
"Who would've thought I'd end up tracking you down because of the idiotic actions of one of your dogs, Kingpin."
His voice echoed through the underground hall, laced with mockery.
Kingpin frowned, irritated. "You…" he began, but the words died on his lips when his eyes finally recognized that stare.
"Bastard…" he muttered, his breathing growing heavier. "So it's you… Battosai."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Took you long enough to recognize me, filthy worm."
His tone was almost playful, but his eyes made it clear there was no humor in it.
"I heard you had vanished from the face of the earth, but it seems that was a lie…" Kingpin said, narrowing his eyes.
"It's getting late," Arthur continued, as a golden portal opened beside him.
"So… let's end this quickly."
A sword shot forward, piercing Damian Silver's skull before anyone could even blink. The body collapsed instantly, a blade embedded between his eyes, his face frozen in absolute shock.
A murmur of horror spread through the room.
Kingpin remained still, eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think you're walking out of here alive?" he asked, his deep voice echoing with restrained hatred.
"Instead of asking that, you should be thanking me for coming here," Arthur replied.
Kingpin blinked, confused. "Thanking…?"
"When I found out that 'The Hand' was involved in my parents' murder… I started hunting them. Unfortunately, there were too many of them, so I had to involve unnecessary parties in the process—for example, a certain group of mutants, an international espionage agency…"
Fisk's eyes widened.
"Don't tell me—"
"Exactly," Arthur interrupted coldly. "After completely erasing that abomination of an organization from the face of the Earth, I uncovered a few names connected to them… and it was thanks to that little discovery that I got this beauty."
He pulled a katana from the portal, the steel gleaming with a crimson hue.
"Thanks to those damn ninjas," he continued, "I ended up meeting an old man named Muramasa. He forged this for me."
"He wanted to call it Muramasa III or some nonsense like that, but I decided to name it Kōryūga," Arthur explained, running a hand along the blade.
[A/N: Kōryūga — Crimson Dragon's Fang]
Kingpin clenched his fists, his face twisting with rage and tension.
Arthur flicked his wrist, the blade letting out a soft whistle before he sheathed it with a sharp click.
"The name 'Kingpin' was among The Hand's records."
He shook his head sarcastically.
"Anyway… I made a small list of people I'd kill if I ever found them. And guess what, Fisk…" He pointed directly at the giant. "Your name was the last one remaining."
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Kingpin roared and charged forward, the ground trembling beneath his weight.
His fist, wide as a sledgehammer, tore through the air with a thunderous roar.
Arthur moved instantly.
He stepped to the left and, with a smooth motion, the room's light reflected off the crimson blade of Kōryūga.
The sound of the cut was dry and clean.
Kingpin stopped, confused.
He looked at his own arm—or rather, at the place where it should have been.
The scream came a heartbeat later.
"AAARRRRGHHHH! YOU BASTARD!!!"
Arthur said nothing.
He spun the katana gracefully, flicking the blood from the edge.
Before Fisk could react, the Ripper struck him with a precise kick to the side of the head, sending the giant crashing to the floor.
Arthur stepped on him, the sole of his boot pressing hard against Fisk's skull.
Silence overtook the room.
And suddenly… Arthur began to speak.
Calmly. Methodically. As if reciting a daily routine.
"My current name is Arthur Morgan.
I am twenty-one years old.
I live in Queens, New York."
Kingpin groaned, trying to push him off, but it was useless. Arthur's foot pinned him like a nail hammered into the ground.
"I am not married, but I am in a very good relationship.
I am a relatively well-known writer within nerd culture.
I don't smoke, and I only drink on rare occasions."
What is he talking about!? Fisk thought, panic rising. And why… can't I move!?
"I always go to bed at eleven p.m.
And I sleep for eight hours.
No matter what happens."
Arthur pressed down harder. The floor cracked beneath the force.
"I like to drink a warm glass of milk before bed.
I do stretches and light training with my bokken.
And I usually sleep peacefully, without interruptions."
Blood streamed down Fisk's face.
"I wake up without fatigue.
Like a baby with no worries."
The giant writhed, his face crushed against the concrete.
"At my last check-up, no health issues were found."
This damn… this psychopath…! Fisk roared internally as the pressure increased.
"I am someone who strives to maintain inner peace as much as possible."
Arthur lowered his voice, now almost whispering.
"But if I am forced to fight… I never lose, and I never hesitate to kill."
The room was utterly silent. Only Fisk's ragged breathing and the distant hum of an emergency light rotating in the background.
"In short," Arthur said, his eyes cold and impassive, "you and your pack of whores are an inconvenience. An irritating noise in the back of my head. And that… can disturb my sleep."
Arthur leaned down, his voice now a verdict:
"Therefore, Wilson Fisk… you are my enemy."
He lifted his foot from Kingpin's head, crouched down, and grabbed him by the throat. Fisk tried to speak, but only managed to stammer:
"W-what… do you want…?"
Arthur stared at him up close.
"I don't want anything from someone like you."
With a single swing of his sword, a clean cut was made across Kingpin's neck.
The dull sound of something heavy hitting the floor echoed through the hall.
Blood sprayed, painting Arthur's face red.
Without hesitation, he executed each of the men still breathing in the room.
When the last body fell, Arthur wiped his face with the back of his glove and calmly walked out through the corridor he had destroyed minutes earlier.
---
NYPD — Technology Division
"Report," George said, entering the control room in a hurry.
One of the technicians turned around, sweating nervously.
"Fortunately, sir, all server data and files are still intact. Nothing was deleted or altered."
A collective sigh of relief spread through the room.
"Then why the hell would a hacker break into our system if he didn't change anything?" one of the officers asked, frowning.
George crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"Good question."
He stared at the screens filled with code and access traces.
"Can you locate this intruder's IP?"
The technicians exchanged glances. One of them shook his head in resignation.
"Negative, Captain. He masked every route. It's as if… he never existed."
George let out a heavy sigh.
"I figured as much."
He turned to the team and spoke firmly:
"Then listen carefully. I want all of you on alert. If this hacker makes another move, trace every byte, every digital shadow. Use every resource available to find him."
"Yes, Captain!" they responded in unison.
George ran a hand through his hair, exhausted, and muttered:
"Looks like someone just declared war… and we don't even know who it is."
---
(End of Chapter)