THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS.
BEGINNING OF VOLUME 2
The day ended, and night rose like a quiet king—calm, proud, and painted in deep-blue shadows. Damon walked beneath it alone.
He passed the alleyway where everything had begun—the place he was beaten bloody, where the ring his mother gifted him shattered, where the fire inside him first opened its eyes. The memory stung—not with fear, but with that strange ache only the past knows how to give.
Same shortcut. Same path. The only difference was this time nobody tried to beat him. He owned all three gangs now. The rebuilt Obscuron Tower rose ahead, newly repaired after the chaos he caused last year. The glass shone cleaner, the structure somehow stronger.
"Theres no way to get in," Damon muttered. "Guess I'll climb."
A bark echoed behind him.
"Daichi? What are you doing here?"
The small dog barked again. "Well you didn't think I wouldn't notice you sneaking out of your room, did you?"
Damon sighed mentally. "Stop barking. Telepathy, please."
Daichi hopped into his pocket, shrinking until he fit like a big keychain. "I'm coming with you. Besides, tomorrow is Natsuki's birthday—you need a gift, don't you?"
"That's why I'm here," Damon whispered.
Daichi added, "Speaking of gifts, don't touch the rope of sausages in the freezer. It's hers."
"…How did you get that?"
Daichi looked away.
"I don't even want to know." Damon said.
Damon summoned and stabbed his daggers into the tower wall and began to climb. By the time he reached the top floor, he saw him—wild hair, huge eyebags, twitchy hands.
Dr. Maniac.
Surrounded by armed guards. Daichi asked, "Well? What's the plan?"
Damon answered by knocking on the window. The glass shattered.
The guards opened fire instantly. Damon weaved through the bullets like wind through curtains. Daichi bit a bullet mid-air and spat it back at the shooter's forehead.
One by one, Damon struck the back of their necks—clean, efficient, fast. They dropped like puppets with cut strings. Then— A sniper bullet screamed from above. Damon swung his dagger.
CLINK.
The bullet split in half. He flicked his other dagger upward. The hilt smacked the sniper's skull. The man dropped. Dr. Maniac trembled, pointing a small gun with shaking hands.
"S-stay back! I'll give you anything! Money—guns—tech—just don't come any closer!"
Damon stepped closer as Dr Maniac fired a couple. They bounced off.
"Relax. We need to talk, Dr. Maniac."
The man gulped. Damon continued, "Obscuron is going broke since the government barely and won't fund your projects unless you build military weapons... that they sell. Correct?"
The doctor stuttered, "W-well when you put it like that—"
"I'm not asking you to stop," Damon said. "I'm saying if you create anything that harms any Japanese citizens… you'll find yourself in boiling acid."
"Okay—OKAY—I'll stop!" Damon pulled out a cave crystal.
The doctor's pupils dilated instantly. He reached for it—Damon pulled it back.
"This thing is practically indestructible. And it's overflowing with energy you could use. I'll give it to you if you help me."
"Help you with what…?"
Damon and Daichi exchanged a look. Then Damon said: "Help me make a Batcave."
Maniac blinked. "…What?"
Later...
Damon and Daichi walked through the night streets toward home.
"You think he'll do it?" Daichi asked.
"I didn't give him a choice," Damon said. "Besides, we'll know by the deadline."
"You're not actually going to boil him in acid… right?"
"What? No. Natsuki would kill me if I did that." They laughed—then Damon's phone rang.
"Kuroshi?"
"Damon… I don't know how to say this. Just get here. Now."
"Where?"
"Your house. Hurry."
His voice carried confusion, urgency… and disbelief. Damon blurred across the city. By the time he reached the street, the gang was already outside his window—Kuroshi, Daigo, Rukito sitting on Daigo's shoulders, Drexel, Takeshi, and several others.
Kuroshi pointed at the window. "I didn't join in cuz it's your house and all, but see for yourself."
Damon peered inside. His father was fighting six armed men. Some already down. Richard moved like a ghost. A clean fist snapped into someone's jaw. Another rushed in—Richard ducked, swept a leg, and hammered a punch into the man's temple.
What in the world…? Damon thought but didn't enter. It felt unfair to interrupt—against them, his dad didn't need help. A knife flew from behind. Richard caught it with two fingers. Cut his apple with it then took a bite and continued fighting.
Daigo whispered, "This dude's munching mid-fight…"
"Two down, four to go," Drexel muttered. The gang watched in awe:
Drexel pushing his hair back while his was mouth open.
Takeshi whispering, "He's not human."
Rukito sitting upright on Daigo's shoulders. Drunk, but the sight made him sober.
Kuroshi muttering, "At least I know where Damon gets it…"
Richard wrapped cloth around his fists, cracking the fabric tight.
One assassin lunged— Richard sidestepped and dropped him with a single jaw shot. Another attacked with dual knives— Richard caught one mid-spin, slapped him with the hilt. Another charged—Richard grabbed his wrist, twisted, slammed him down. The last hesitated. Richard ended it in three moves.
Six bodies surrounded him. No blood. No wasted motion. Just Richard breathing steadily and finishing his apple. Damon entered. His father almost struck him out of reflex.
"Oh—Damon. Sorry."
"You're bleeding." Damon said calmly.
He wiped his face with a finger. "Oh… that's not mine."
The gang peeked through the broken door. Damon sighed. "They're… friends." He whispered, "Dad… how do you fight like that?"
"Control," Richard said simply. "I simply kill only when necessary."
Damon melted the door back into shape with a flick of fire. They sat in the living room.
"I'm ready when you are." Damon prompted.
Richard let out a breath. Then spoke
"I was part of a secret organization," he began. "Japan created it to infiltrate enemy nations before wars. Project NOVA—Neutralization of Violent Aggression."
Damon stared. "You... were an assassin?"
"We stopped wars by gathering leverage," Richard continued. "Remember the USA–Japan dispute? It ended because of us. One time, we were supposed to slip in, get data, slip out. But one mission went wrong. We were ambushed. Most of us died. During training we were taught complex medicine, so I left and became a doctor."
Damon frowned as he knocked an assassin that was about to get up. "So why are they back?"
"Because they want to recruit your father," a voice replied.
Every man in the room froze. Even the ravens outside stopped gliding to watch. And then she walked in.
A black bodysuit hugged every curve of her lethal hourglass frame—smooth, quiet, deadly. Short midnight hair streaked with very dark purple at the tips that blended with her hair. Eyes that didn't look at the room—they judged it. One crimson eye. One silver. Both beautiful and terrifying.
Daigo's jaw dropped. She tapped his stomach with two fingers. "Hello, big boy."
Daigo whispered, "I'm never washing this shirt again…"
The toughest men in the gang swallowed their pride and fear whole.
Someone muttered, "Who is THAT…?"
No one answered. Because the moment she lifted her hand and tucked a strand of short hair behind her ear— every man watching felt the same, silent realization:
"Beautiful" was too weak a word.
She was dangerous. She was lethal. She was art.
Richard stepped forward, stepping on the groaning assassins.
"Mira?"
She smiled softly. "So you still remember me."
Silence. Then she hugged him—tight.
The gang outside completely lost consciousness for a second.
Damon thought Dad married a queen… and now he has *her* attention?
Daichi read the thought. "Shocker."
"It's been a long time, Richard," Mira said. Her voice bathed in velvet.
"Yeah… it has."
Richard turned. "This is my son, Damon."
Damon stepped on an assassin's face.
Mira smirked. "Wow. Even cuter than your father."
Damon forgot how to form words.
"This is Mira Korubane," Richard said. "My… teammate at NOVA."
Mira added, "Awn c'mon we were more than that. Tell him how you begged me to massage your arms after EVERY mission."
Richard stiffened. "No—let's not—talk about that now."
Damon sighed. "Honestly? I'm not even surprised anymore."
The gang prepared to drag the unconscious men away, but Mira squatted—graceful, lethal, natural—and said she'd take them herself.Every man blushed and bowed.
"YES MA'AM!!"
Kuroshi stood frozen until Drexel and Takeshi pulled him down to bow.
Damon grumbled, "You never listen to me like that…"
Mira touched her lips, glanced back at Richard. "We need to talk."
Richard blushed and Damon screamed in his own head. Why is he blushing!?
Richard muttered, "Err… Mira, kids are here."
She laughed and touched his chest. "Not that, Richard. I mean—really talk."
Damon tried to walk out but Mira pointed a gun at the back his head. Damon moved fast but humanly fast and reappeared behind her, dagger at her neck.
She smiled. "You taught your son well."
Richard and Damon both thought: "He/I didn't teach me/him anything."
Her perfume floated around Damon—way too attractive. She turned to him and he turned away. "I—I'm not 18 and I have a girlfriend."
She smirked. "Cute, but you can stay."
She reminded him of Velmira. Too much.
After tying the men, Mira sat with Richard as she clicked open a bottle of beer and chugged.
"Our last mission… Germany," she said.
"Yeah… that was hell. Do you still see Ren?"
"Sometimes. I leave him flowers every now and then."
The room dimmed. Ren was gone.
Mira exhaled slowly. "NOVA is being hunted, Richard. They want us dead or under their control. That's why these six came for you." She leaned closer. "You need to come back."
Richard clenched his jaw. "I can't. Last time we—"
"We can prevent that," she cut in. "Ren would want you to."
She held his palm gently. Richard stood, staring out the window.
"Damon, go upstairs."
"Fine. But first—how old are you, Mira?"
She turned. "Thirty-seven. And eleven months."
"You're older than Dad?"
"Yes. Richard, when's my birthday?"
"…December 31st."
Damon nodded. "Makes sense. My dad does have that older-woman pull."
Damon and Richard thought of Queen Thessa then he walked upstairs. Mira drained her beer and approached Richard again. Rested her head on his arm.
"You remembered my birthday," she whispered.
"Mira… I miss the old days. But I can't lose anyone again."
"Remember Murphy's law? I'm going Richard, and if I'm meant to die—I'll die whether you join or not."
"You won't" he said firmly.
She stepped closer, one foot planted, the other barely touching the ground. "Look at these men, you beat high trained assassins with an apple in your mouth. Richard, with your skill? Imagine NOVA with you again."
"Thank God you said imagine."
She cupped his neck, her other hand pressed to his chest. He melted. Just a little.
"I'm begging you," she whispered. Her dual coloured eyes glinting in moonlight.
Richard exhaled. "Fine. I'll come. But promise me—"
"I won't sacrifice myself."
"Deal."
She kissed him.
Upstairs, Damon yelled: "Dad! Come look at this recording I got of you!"
"DAMON!"
Mira smirked. "Send it to me."
"MIRA—!!"