The Red Devil (2/3)

Seoul, nighttime.

'Now that I think about it, her face slightly resembles theirs.' Mikoto thought. He was inside a crowded club, sitting on a small circular seat in front of the bar, surrounded by people talking and laughing. He wore a simple white T-shirt that showed off his well-defined arms and outlined his upper body, along with black pants and shoes. A bottle of Soju in hand, he took occasional sips as he reflected.

His mind drifted back to a week ago when he was with Yeonwoo. As he thought it over, he realized something about her. Her face slightly resembled two people he knew, people with long red hair and amber eyes, unlike her black hair and eyes. These people were his mother and older sister.

'Should I apologize for what I did to them and the clan?' Mikoto thought, bringing the bottle to his lips and gulping down half of it. 'But why should I, when I was just having fun at the time?'

'They should be the ones apologizing, not me.' His expression was blank as he tilted his head down, staring at the table. His left hand rested on the side, and his right held the bottle. 'But… was I wrong to do it?'

Suddenly, a loud voice broke through the noise in the club.

"Everyone, make way!"

"Move it, you damn Koreans."

The atmosphere in the club shifted as several men entered, all dressed in black business attire. The patrons quickly moved aside as these newcomers came through, their hands openly gripping weapons being katanas, machetes, even pistols.

"This place reeks of Koreans." One of them who stood at the center muttered.

"Well, sir, we're in Korea." Another replied in Japanese.

At the center of the group stood a towering man with a massive frame and muscular build. His bald head was marked with a snake tattoo, and a scarred left eye was replaced by a glass eye. He wore business attire, and his name was Fujimori Yuuki, Vice-President of the Kyungsunghwe organization. In the Kansai region of Japan, the Kyungsunghwe Yakuza was one of the largest, known for its involvement in human trafficking.

They moved to the front of the bar, where they suddenly stopped, noticing someone still sitting at the counter.

"Hey, Korean redhead, move out of the way." one of the men said loudly, a machete in hand, directing his words at a particular red-haired person sitting at the bar.

"Hey, bastard, can't you hear me?" He grew angrier as the man didn't respond. Approaching him, he placed the machete's tip on the redhead's shoulder. "I said, move it."

Still, there was no response, which only made him angrier. He was just about to take action when...

"Hey, tell me, am I wrong?" Mikoto asked suddenly, stopping the man mid-action. His voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

"Huh? What did you say, you damn Korean?" The man growled, annoyed that he hadn't heard the words.

"Am I wrong?" Mikoto repeated, this time audibly.

"Wrong? What the hell are you talking about?" The man was now confused, certain that this guy had to be drunk, but his patience was wearing thin.

Suddenly, the man felt a firm grip on the back of his neck, slamming his face down onto the table. He groaned in pain as his machete fell from his hand.

"What's that bastard doing?"

"Kill that Korean!"

The group was startled as they watched the redhead suddenly attack one of their own. Their anger flared as they prepared to charge, but-

"It seems you don't have the answer." Mikoto stood up, causing the group to halt. He gulped down the remaining alcohol.

"If you don't have the answer," He said, holding the man in place by the back of his neck. With his left hand, he grabbed the empty bottle and broke its bottom half against the table's edge, sharpening it.

"Then there's no use for you." Mikoto's expression was blank as he lifted the man by the neck, revealing his bloodied face. With a swift motion, he drove the sharp, broken bottle into the man's face, sinking it halfway through and disfiguring him beyond recognition. He didn't stop there, slamming the man's head back onto the table with such force that the bottle went entirely through, killing him instantly.

The club went silent. Patrons and Yakuza alike were frozen, horrified at the scene before them. Some onlookers placed hands over their mouths, gagging, while others turned away, unwilling to see the grisly sight. The Yakuza members, however, were shocked not because of the gore. They were used to violence, but because they hadn't expected anyone to take action like this. They'd been caught off guard.

"So, do you guys have it?" Mikoto asked, turning to the stunned Yakuza members. "Do you have the answer I want?"

Now they were even more shocked when they looked at his face, the man standing before them was just a kid.

"Kill that damn brat."

"Get him!"

Their shock quickly turned to rage. They wouldn't let a kid get the better of them. Two of the men rushed forward, katanas drawn. One leapt into the air, aiming to slice Mikoto's head off, while the other charged low, targeting his stomach aiming to pierce it.

"Huh?" Both attackers froze in disbelief as the expected outcome didn't happen. The first attacker's katana stopped dead on Mikoto's skin, unable to cut through, while the second's katana shattered in half upon contact.

"It seems that you don't."

Before they could react, Mikoto struck, his movements swift and lethal. His blows landed on both attackers at the same time. The first man was sent crashing through the ceiling, his head embedded in concrete, his lower body dangling as blood poured down from his head, which had burst open. The second man's head was smashed into the floor with such force that it flattened completely, blood splattering outward as his head was crushed, killing him instantly.

Everyone, both the onlookers and the Yakuza, were now shocked by what they had just seen, the scene overshadowing the earlier events. Two men with katanas hadn't been able to pierce or damage the kid. But it wasn't just that they failed to injure him, it was how the two katana-wielders were completely demolished. They stared at the one stuck in the ceiling, dripping with blood like a towel left to dry, and the man with a face so flat they could even see parts of his brain next to his head. They hadn't even seen how the kid moved. To them, he hadn't moved at all, he remained standing with a blank face. They could only stare at the kid, no. The monster they now presumed did this shocking thing.

"This kid…"

"Damn it, all of you, get him!"

The Yakuza's expressions quickly shifted from shock to rage, their eyes bloodshot as they stared at the kid whose face was devoid of any emotion. They had already been humiliated when this kid acted the first time, and now this, this was unacceptable. Since when had they suffered such humiliation? They would make sure to kill this kid.

"All of you, stand back." Yuuki suddenly spoke in Japanese, stepping forward, and all the members looked at him in surprise, not expecting the Vice-President to personally step forward. They moved out of the way, and Yuuki continued forward, stopping right in front of the red-haired kid, slightly tilting his head down due to the kid's surprising height.

"You're very good… for a Korean." Yuuki switched to Korean, looking at the kid who still wore a blank expression as he looked at him. "But don't think you'll be leaving here aliv-"

'Huh? I'm falling?' Yuuki's eyes widened as he thought this, unable to finish his words. He was currently falling backward, having seemingly lost balance on his left leg, and landed with a thud on his back on the floor.

'What happened?' Yuuki was stunned, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn't understand what just happened. Why did he suddenly lose his balance? But his confusion was interrupted by an excruciating pain in his left leg.

"Ughh…" For the first time, Yuuki felt such pain. He could take slashes from weapons, stabbings, all with a straight face. But now, the pain was ten times worse than anything he'd felt before. He strained to lift his head and looked down at his left leg, which was wracked with pain. 'What the?' His eyes widened in shock and confusion. His left leg, completely fine a moment ago, was now in a gruesome state. The skin below his knee was torn open, exposing the bone and with blood pouring out, creating a puddle beneath him. But the scene was confusing, there was no bone, the bone was gone. Now Yuuki understood why he lost his balance: the bone that supported him was no longer there. And it was horrifying, as well as confusing. Confusing for how it happened, and horrifying that it had happened. For the first time, Yuuki felt fear grip his heart.

"Why is it that no one has the answer?" Yuuki's overwhelming thoughts were interrupted by a strange, calm voice that sent chills down his spine. He looked up to see the red-haired kid still staring blankly at him. "Huh?" Yuuki's eyes widened in panic as they caught sight of something. Something in the kid's now blood-covered right hand, something unreal and terrifying, adding to his horror. It was long and white, torn at both ends as if ripped from its place forcefully. It was his bone, the bone from his left leg, held by the kid. A terrifying, unnatural image that added to the unreal horror. Yuuki hadn't even seen the kid move. How had he done it? How could such speed even exist? It was beyond human.

"And I'm not Korean, idiot." Mikoto said in Japanese, making Yuuki's eyes widen even further. Mikoto's body was now bent forward, poised to throw, and he twisted, hurling the bone directly at Yuuki's forehead. It impaled Yuuki through the back of his head, killing him instantly. But Mikoto wasn't finished. His leg poised above Yuuki's body, he stomped down hard on the bone protruding from Yuuki's forehead, the impact splitting his head from above and sending chunks of brain and blood spraying across the floor.

"What about the rest of you?" Mikoto's eyes glanced at the remaining Yakuza members, who had been angry and cursing just moments ago, now silent, faces full of horror and shock. The scene they had just witnessed was unlike anything they'd seen, even in their lives as Yakuza members. This was beyond brutality; it was something else. Could they even call it fighting anymore? This wasn't just a monster. It was the devil, the devil itself. Who could move so fast that he seemed not to move at all? Who could pull out someone's bone and kill them with it? Only the devil could do such things. And what made it even more terrifying was that their Vice-President, who they had believed invincible, was now dead, killed in such an unnatural way. And not just by anyone, but by a kid, someone who looked no older than 18. The scene felt so unreal that some questioned if it was an illusion. That's how unbelievable it was.

The onlookers were equally stunned. No one dared to move or breathe. They were dizzy, their hearts pounding, their stomachs churning, and some found it difficult even to breathe. They were ordinary people who had just been enjoying their night, and now they had witnessed this for the first time. Some fainted, the sight too overwhelming for them.

Suddenly, Mikoto acted again. In an instant, he vanished from his spot, leaving two deep footprints in the floor. He reappeared in front of another man, this time at the center of the group. "Wh-" The man's eyes widened as he looked into the blank amber eyes staring at him. Sweat drenched his body, and he trembled, his pants darkening with yellow fluid. But there was no time to finish his sentence. Mikoto's fist smashed into his chest, piercing through his body and crushing his heart. But it didn't stop there; the blow continued through the second, third, fourth, and fifth people directly behind him. Mikoto then twisted his body, driving them all into the ground with a shockwave that echoed through the room, forcing everyone in the club to cover their faces as the blast hit them.

Once the shockwave dissipated, they opened their eyes to yet another horrific scene.

"Ahhh!"

"Kyaaa!"

"Blrghh…"

Screams erupted from the onlookers as they recoiled, mortified, but this time even more so. This scene was far worse than anything before. Some people vomited from the sheer intensity of the violence.

Mikoto's right arm, halfway up to his bicep, was embedded in the bodies of five people stacked on top of each other, each chest pierced through, his arm acting like a skewer.

"Do you have it? The answer." Mikoto said slowly, his voice washing over everyone with dread, especially the Yakuza, who now knew they were the devil's target. He slowly pulled his arm free as he straightened up, the squishing sound of blood and organs accompanying the friction.

"As to why I'm wrong?" Mikoto was now standing, his right arm halfway stained with blood as it dripped to the floor. His expressionless eyes fixed on the Yakuza members, their bodies visibly trembling as his blank amber eyes met theirs. Their breathing was ragged, and fear tightly gripped them, the scene of five people impaled replaying in their minds.

Silence fell over the club.

Each Yakuza member took a fighting stance, gritting their teeth as they forced their bodies to move, fighting the immobilizing fear. Covered in sweat, they had no choice but to fight, knowing the red devil wouldn't let them go. Nervous gulps were audible as they steadied themselves, some holding weapons like katanas and machetes while others aimed pistols. They prepared to die, realizing this wasn't a human they faced but a devil in disguise.

"Tick!"

"Tick!"

The sound of blood dripping from Mikoto's arm echoed. It was that quiet. Each person could hear their own breaths and heartbeats. With the third blood droplet's fall....

"Ahhhhhh!"

"You devil, die!"

"Kill him!"

The Yakuza screamed, charging Mikoto. They could only scream to drown out their fear as they moved forward. Even scared, they wanted to die with the honor of Yakuza. Following their screams came the sounds of gunshots and shrill cries, reverberating through the club.

After a minute, the noise and screams faded into complete silence.

"Is it that hard to find the answer?"

The voice echoed in the club, filled with disappointment. Mikoto stood, his white T-shirt, part of his face, and both arms stained with blood, which dripped to the floor. Around him lay the corpses of the Yakuza, body parts of legs, arms, even heads scattered across the ground. The once lively club was now a scene from shura hell, crimson blood coating the floor, the metallic scent spreading.

"No, it's not." Mikoto answered himself, raising his blood-soaked right hand to look at what he held. A human heart, still slightly squirming and pulsing in his palm. "It's just the person who has the answer isn't here." He clenched his hand, crushing the heart as blood oozed through his fingers.

He turned and walked toward the bartender, leaving the onlookers pale and blood-drained. Some stood frozen, hands over their mouths, too afraid to make a sound as they watched the red-haired kid make his way to the bar.

"Give me another cold bottle of Soju." Mikoto said, his voice audible to all as he stopped at the counter, raising his blood-drenched arm and looking at the bartender. The man froze, his blood running cold as he met those amber eyes, his heart nearly stopping at the sight of the blood-streaked young man.

The bartender rushed to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of Soju and handing it over to the devil before him. Mikoto took it and left, walking out of the club and leaving a trail of carnage in his wake.

Once Mikoto was out of sight, everyone seemed to relax, a wave of relief washing over them. But their bodies, still trembling from the encounter, felt heavy, like a weight they could finally set down. They knew they'd likely never see anything like this again, and they prayed they wouldn't.

Out on the streets…

"Hey, look at that guy."

"Is that blood?"

Whispers came from people along the road, a mix of fear and unease on their faces as they eyed a tall, red-haired young man with amber eyes. His upper body and white shirt were stained with blood, his expression blank as he walked, lost in thought. He held a bottle of Soju in his blood-covered right hand, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind him.

Mikoto continued walking until he reached a narrow alleyway, following it to a secluded yet familiar area.

"And what I did to her is also wrong?" Mikoto muttered, his eyes drifting to the ground where he took Yeonwoo's first time. "Why is it wrong? How is having fun wrong?"

"It's not fair." Mikoto raised the Soju bottle to his mouth, gulping down half of it before lowering it, gazing blankly up at the night sky, the full moon illuminating his blood-covered form. "It's really not fair."

"It's him, right?"

"Yeah, it is. Nobody else matches his description."

"Young, tall, red hair, amber eyes, it's definitely him."

Three voices echoed through the area as three men appeared in the narrow alleyway, each wearing a coat and pants patterned with white leopard spots.

They walked closer, stopping a short distance away from Mikoto.

"It's over for you, red devil." One of them said with hatred, glaring at the young man's back.

"We notified the Fist Gang of your location. Revenge is coming, you bastard." Added another, veins bulging in his face.

"For what you did to Mr. Baekho, and especially Miss Yeonwoo, you're going to pay." Said the last one.

The three men trembled with anger, clenching their fists as they held themselves back from attacking. Orders from Mr. Gapryong and Mr. Jinyeong Park were clear. If they spotted the red devil, yes, that was the name they'd given him, they were to report it immediately. The gang leaders themselves would handle him. It was forbidden for anyone else to interfere as they knew how dangerous this young man was.

"So be prepar-" The one in the middle couldn't finish as four fingers suddenly jabbed into his mouth and throat, making his eyes widen. He tasted a strong metallic flavor.

"You're interrupting my thoughts." Came Mikoto's detached, uninterested voice. The man looked up to see a half-blood-covered face, with amber eyes glaring coldly at him.

But there was no time to react, as the next second a clear, audible tearing of flesh echoed. Mikoto bent down, swiping the four fingers of his right hand that were embedded in the person's mouth and throat all the way down. A spurting sound followed as blood violently poured from the man's front. His state was now that of a dead man walking: the lower part of his mouth, including his jaw, was gone, and the front skin of his throat down to his stomach was stripped away, exposing bone. His ribcage was visible along with his heart, now beating audibly. His stomach's contents slowly spilled out, hitting the ground with squishing thuds as his intestines hung out. Blood gushed and sprayed as his skin drained to a pale white, the color change almost visibly swift. He slowly fell backward, lifeless.

"Annoying." Mikoto said, straightening up as he looked down at the man. His face and red hair were now even more blood-splattered.

"And now, you can join him as well." He said, turning to the others who stood on opposite sides of the man. Horror masked their faces, and blood spattered onto their cheeks as they looked down at the gruesome state of their friend. Gruesome didn't do it justice; this was a devil's work. Nausea rose in their throats, and their vision blurred from the shock that froze their bodies, rendering them incapable of action.

They looked back at the red-haired man, the devil himself, whose apathetic expression made it seem like what he'd done was the most normal thing.

They wanted to run, to hide, but their bodies wouldn't move. Utter despair washed over them.

Before they could process their thoughts, Mikoto acted. He struck the man to his left with his right hand, sinking his second and third fingers into his eyes, gripping the skull firmly. Mikoto then swiped down swiftly, the crack of bones and tearing of flesh echoing through the air, followed by a thud as the man's body hit the ground.

"You guys are boring." Mikoto said, raising his left hand to drink from his Soju bottle.

The man to the right, lost in shock, remained frozen in thought, replaying images of his first friend's state.

"Huh?" He looked up at Mikoto, who was casually drinking with droplets running down his chin, but his eyes widened at the horrifying realization.

'Is that...a skull?' He saw a skull, glistening with slimy, bloody fluids, held by its eye sockets between two fingers of the devil's right hand. He could make out something pink within it, a brain, intact within the skull.

'N-No way...right?' The man's breathing became labored, his eyes dazed, his heart pounding, threatening to burst. 'I-It has to be a dream...right?' He shakily glanced at his friend's body on the ground, his mind shutting down as he took in the ghastly sight. The man's head, deflated like a punctured balloon, lay on a pool of blood, mere skin where his skull used to be. He couldn't comprehend this. He even questioned whether the devil himself was kinder than this red-haired monster.

"It's not a bad drink." Mikoto said approvingly, lowering the bottle to look at it. He raised his right hand with the skull and casually wiped the Soju dripping down his chin with the back of his blood-smeared hand. "Really, quite rare." He continued, looking at the shivering man before him. "Under the moonlight, you look even more pathetic." There was no resistance, no scream, just a hollow, defeated figure awaiting death. Even the Yakuza had fought, no matter how pathetically, they'd moved, unlike this one and his companions.

"Since you're that pitiful...I'll show you mercy." Mikoto said, looking down at the trembling man. He tossed the skull aside, then slowly raised his right hand, resting it atop the man's head. The man saw the hand move in slow motion, almost evadable, yet his body and mind refused to obey him, frozen in chains of fear binding him to the ground. Mikoto's hand closed around his head. "By keeping your body intact, I guess." He added, applying pressure that instantly crushed the man's skull, sending shards of bone, brain matter, and blood flying onto Mikoto's face. The body fell to the ground, top of the head and brain obliterated.

'But now that I see it...' Mikoto mused, tilting his head up as he gulped down from the bottle again. Looking down, he examined the coat his victims wore. 'Are they related to her?' The jackets and pants bore the same white leopard print pattern as Yeonwoo's coat.

"Hm?" Mikoto looked up, noticing someone suddenly appearing standing in the distance, another man clad in the same patterned jacket and pants.

Earlier...

Inside the restaurant-styled room, Jinyeong, Charles, and Tom sat in silence at a table.

'Why can't we find this bastard?' Jinyeong thought, frustrated. It had been a week since the search began for the red devil. That was the name they'd given him since no one knew his real name. They'd scoured almost the entire city. Gapryong had ordered every member of the Fist Gang to spread out, searching for the red devil. His orders were clear, anyone spotting the target was to report immediately, no one was to engage. That job was left to those with the strength for battles. And yet, there'd been no word on the red devil's location. It was absurd, considering a city-wide search should have uncovered his whereabouts in a day, yet he seemed to have disappeared.

"ZZZ!"

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He quickly pulled it from his pocket, his eyes widening, catching Charles and Tom's attention.

"They found him." Jinyeong muttered aloud, but loud enough for Charles and Tom to hear.

"Who?" Charles asked, though he had a good idea, wanting to confirm.

"The red devil." Without giving either of them a chance to speak, Jinyeong stood up and dashed out.

"Wait." Charles called, standing up, but it was useless, Jinyeong was already gone.

"This idiot." Charles muttered in frustration. Did Jinyeong have a death wish? Couldn't he control his anger? Charles knew Jinyeong had been on standby for a whole week, anxiously checking his phone for news on the red devil's sighting. But to just run off like that? Did he want to get himself killed? From Baekho's description alone, it was clear this red devil couldn't be taken in a one-on-one fight. It would take every commander, including them, to stand a chance. Jinyeong's impulsive, childlike behavior grated on Charles. What good was revenge if he didn't survive to see it through?

"Tom, let's go. I'll contact Gapryong on the way." Charles said, quickly heading out with Tom following behind.

Back with Jinyeong...

'That bastard is at that place again.' Jinyeong thought angrily. The location of the Red Devil was the same place where he'd done the unforgivable to Yeonwoo. Was he there to savor his vile acts? Only a devil would revel in someone's suffering.

Jinyeong dashed through the narrow alley to the secluded area, only to stop in his tracks, his eyes widening at the horrific sight before him.

Three of his men lay on the ground, each in a state so gruesome that even the most brutal enemies he'd faced seemed innocent in comparison. One man's torso was fully exposed, organs spilling out. Another had no head, only a flattened, flayed piece of skin. The third was missing the top of his head entirely. Jinyeong had seen brutality, but never anything like this.

His gaze shifted to the one standing over the bodies. Tall, with spiked, ruffled hair and amber eyes, the figure wore a white t-shirt soaked in blood, black jeans, and shoes. His bloodied stained figure weren't his own. There was no mistaking him, this was the man Jinyeong hated most, the Red Devil he'd been waiting for.

Rage boiled in Jinyeong's blood. His hands clenched as his nails dug into his skin, blood seeping out, veins bulging in his face. Not just for what this man had done to Yeonwoo, but for what he'd done to his men. He wouldn't let this pass. Even if it cost him his life, he'd make sure to bring this Red Devil down. 'Kill… kill… kill,' the words repeated in his mind, his anger consuming him.

"Do you know the woman that I had fun with?" The words hit Jinyeong like a punch. He stared at the young man who was casually looking at himself, or rather, at his bloodied clothes.

'What did he just say?' It wasn't the question itself but the word that stunned Jinyeong. 'Fun? Did he just say fun?' His eyes widened as he looked at the Red Devil's expressionless face. Fun with Yeonwoo? 'You…' Jinyeong's expression became ferocious, his body trembling with a level of anger he'd never felt before. This wasn't just some evil act. This man had called it fun. This wasn't a human, this was a devil. The title "Red Devil" fit him perfectly.

Unforgivable!

In a flash, Jinyeong acted. He launched into the air, spinning 1080 degrees, aiming a deadly kick at Mikoto's head. But something unexpected happened.

The kick was stopped, his ankle caught mid-air by a blood-covered hand.

"Are you an idiot?" Mikoto asked, gripping Jinyeong's ankle as Jinyeong stared in shock. But he didn't have time to process it before he was slammed to the ground. Mikoto twisted, slamming Jinyeong down, a large crater forming on impact, debris flying out, a shockwave rippling through the air.

'T-This strength…' Jinyeong groaned, coughing up blood from the impact. He'd never faced anyone like this before. 'It can't be…' He looked up, pain twisting his face as he met Mikoto's stoic expression. They'd all assumed the Red Devil's strength would be maybe slightly greater than their own, but they were wrong. This kid was on a whole different level. The force left him feeling powerless, his bones trembling from the impact. And Mikoto wasn't even serious.

"All this spinning, for what?" Mikoto taunted, still gripping Jinyeong's ankle. His voice snapped Jinyeong back to reality as he saw Mikoto's leg poised above his head. "Just to die like that, it seems." Mikoto brought his leg down, cutting through the air with a whistling sound as shockwaves rippled around it.

'Death.' Jinyeong's heart raced as he stared at the descending leg. This was it. If it landed, he'd have no head left. 'Damn it…' He cursed. He hadn't even gotten his revenge yet, and here he was, powerless. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything. He closed his eyes in frustration, waiting for his end.

But the expected blow never came. Instead, he heard a loud crash beside him. He opened his eyes, looking at the leg buried up to the ankle in the ground next to him, the floor spider-webbed from the impact.

"Hm?" Mikoto looked up, his gaze shifting to a new arrival. Charles Choi, standing tall with neatly combed hair, glasses, a long-sleeved dress shirt, and old-style pants held up by suspenders, polished shoes, and a lollipop in his mouth.

"I apologize, but I can't let you do that." Charles said with a smirk, his eyes meeting Mikoto's blank gaze. But inside, he was nervous.

'What a monster.' Charles thought. He'd faced many powerful enemies before, but now, he found himself evaluating this kid as a monster beyond all others. He'd arrived just in time to see Jinyeong on the ground, rendered helpless within a minute of their encounter. That alone was telling. But it was also that kick, if he'd tried to block it, his leg would've been crushed along with Jinyeong's head. Instead, he'd had to divert it with an invisible strike, but even that left his leg completely numb. When he'd made contact, it was like trying to move an anvil mid-fall. He was lucky his leg hadn't broken.

'To do something like this…' Charles thought as he glanced at the three bodies on the ground. Even the Yamazakis didn't reach this level of brutality. The Yakuza were known for their ruthlessness. He'd seen it in the Yamazaki clan, which the Fist Gang had gone up against. To them, human life was trivial. But this? A kid, no more than 18, had unleashed a carnage that surpassed anything he'd ever seen. Could he be a Yakuza descendant? Charles doubted it. Even a madman wouldn't take things this far.

"What do you think, Tom?" He asked, noticing someone approaching from behind. Mikoto's eyes followed. Below neck-length black hair was a towering, muscular frame clad in a green jacket, black pants, and a small hat. It was Tom Lee.

"I say, it's kill or be killed." Tom replied, stopping next to Charles, his height looming. He scrutinized the red-haired kid, whose apathetic gaze stayed on them. Since learning what Yeonwoo had endured, Tom had been angry, she was the woman he'd fallen for, and hearing that some kid had forced himself on her had left him furious. He wanted to teach the kid a lesson himself, but now things felt different. His instincts screamed danger. Facing Mikoto wasn't just personal anymore, it was life or death. He felt his body tense, every sense on high alert. If they didn't kill, they'd be killed. But a nagging doubt crept in. Could they really kill this kid? His presence felt like it was on another level altogether. Even if they won, they might not leave intact, if they left at all.

Suddenly, Charles's eyes widened as he saw Jinyeong flying toward him. Tom quickly moved, stepping in front to catch Jinyeong with a thud that slid him back slightly.

"What about you people?" Mikoto asked, taking a swig from a bottle he held and tossing it aside. His gaze fixed on the three, now standing side by side. "Do you have an answer?"

The three exchanged confused looks. What was this kid talking about?

"I can tell from your eyes." Mikoto continued, studying them coldly. "You're not the kind of people to have that answer."

"So." He said calmly, looking up at the full moon. "There's no use for you anymore."

At that, Jinyeong, Charles, and Tom moved. Jinyeong appeared at Mikoto's side, launching a kick aimed at his head. Charles readied his invisible attack, and Tom drove a punch toward his torso. They acted on instinct, sensing the sudden shift in the kid's atmosphere. Tom had been right, it was kill or be killed. None of them held back.

A loud thud echoed as all three attacks connected with Mikoto, a shockwave rippling out from the impact.

'What the hell?!' They all shared the same thought, their expressions shifting from intensity to disbelief. Mikoto stood there, head still tilted toward the sky, completely unaffected.

'The attack didn't go through?'

Disbelief washed over them. The three combined attacks, each one strong enough to incapacitate anyone else, had done nothing. How? Sure, someone could have physical strength beyond theirs, but even then, a body could only withstand so much. This kid's body, though, it was like nothing could touch it. They'd only ever seen something like this with the Yamazaki clan's black-bone, but this felt different. They'd grown stronger since then. No one should be able to tank their attacks without suffering, yet Mikoto hadn't even acknowledged them, completely ignoring them. The unsettling feeling intensified.

"You're trying too hard." Mikoto said quietly, his voice clear despite the stillness. "Is this all you can muster with your life on the line?" He kept his gaze on the moon. "I want to see more. I want to have my own fun. So…" he looked down at their shocked faces. "…don't bore me too much."

'Not good.' The three thought, ready to retreat. But Mikoto didn't give them a chance.

He seized Jinyeong's leg, slamming him into the ground, eliciting a groan of pain, giving Charles and Tom just enough time to pull back. Mikoto didn't stop. He twisted, using Jinyeong as a weapon, hurling him at Charles, who barely registered it before both hit the ground hard, debris flying, and Charles coughed up blood from the force of impact.

Mikoto dashed toward Tom, who could barely react before taking a punch to the stomach that sent him airborne, blood spilling from his mouth. His stomach felt like it had been pierced through, but Mikoto was relentless. He caught Tom's legs mid-air and slammed him back down, forming a crater with the impact. "Ugh…" Tom felt his back give way, but there was no respite. Mikoto lifted him and threw him across the area, smashing him into a wall, shockwaves echoing from the hit.

"Yeah, that's right." Mikoto said, turning to Charles and Jinyeong, both struggling to their feet, panting, blood dripping from their mouths. "It wouldn't be fun if you didn't struggle."

'This bastard.' Jinyeong thought, barely holding on after just three hits. If this continued, he'd be finished within minutes. He looked at Mikoto, realizing that their usual attacks wouldn't work. They needed something stronger.

"Charles, distract him for a bit and give me an opening," Jinyeong whispered urgently, just loud enough for Charles to hear.

Charles glanced at Jinyeong, surprised, but seeing the seriousness in his expression, he nodded. Jinyeong might have something up his sleeve, after all.

'But… distract him?' Charles eyed the kid, still expressionless. How could they possibly distract this monster? Charles had one thing he hadn't tried yet, is to target Mikoto's vital points directly with his invisible attack. No matter how hard a body was, the vital spots weren't as impervious. With his attack being invisible, it was the perfect opportunity. Charles focused on Mikoto's throat, the most lethal spot that lay open.

Charles took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm as he approached Mikoto with a steely expression. His invisible attack might work, he reassured himself. But what if it didn't? What if Jinyeong's last-ditch move also failed, and Tom, already sprawled out from the brutal blows, stayed down? The grim reality hit him, without help, they might not make it out. 'We're going to be buried here.' He thought, hoping desperately that Gapryong would arrive before it was too late.

As soon as Charles got within range, he let his invisible attack fly, aiming directly at Mikoto's throat. The impact rang out sharply, and the shockwaves rippled outward, testifying to the force he'd unleashed. Relief began to fill Charles as he felt the attack hit, until he saw what happened next.

Mikoto's hand held his leg, stopping it just inches from his throat.

'He…he can see it?' Charles felt a cold shock spread through him. Mikoto had not only seen his invisible attack but intercepted it without breaking a sweat. No one else, save for Gapryong Kim, had ever managed to detect his attacks. And even Gapryong had needed time and his unique talent to achieve it. But this kid? He'd done it as if the attack's speed was nothing more than a crawling snail to him.

"I expected more from the look on your face." Mikoto's calm voice cut through Charles's shock. "A kick to a blind spot? That's all you've got?"

'Damn it.' Charles thought. The kid hadn't just blocked his attack but had analyzed it in a split second. Mikoto wasn't just powerful, he was dangerous, with a mind as sharp as his strength. It wasn't just raw power he wielded but a tactical intelligence honed for battle. A mind like that was even more terrifying when backed by such strength.

"Since that's all you have." Mikoto continued, lifting Charles by his leg, holding him suspended in midair. "Then you'll be the first to die."

Charles tried to use his flexibility to strike with his other leg, but a strange, powerful sensation suddenly gripped him, immobilizing his whole body.

'What..... is this?' Charles widened his eyes as he felt his leg slowly vibrating until the vibration rippled onto his body. He suddenly felt his internal organs rattling as well as the vibration slowly but surely increased by the second. "Ughh." Charles suddenly groaned, his face scrunching into one of pain. He felt a sudden tearing sensation throughout his whole body, the vibration causing microscopic tears in blood vessels causing immense pain all over his body.

"Huh?" Charles widened his eyes as he felt blood beginning to seep from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth as the vibration overstimulates the capillaries, causing internal bleeding. 'W-what kind of technique is that?' He thought as he felt his vision blur, turning shade red, and his body feels like it's on the verge of splintering apart from within. He couldn't understand what was happening or what the kid was doing to him. Every pulse generated through his body making it feel like his bones are being ground down, his flesh bruised from the inside out. He was literally being destroyed from within. Charles realized that if Mikoto kept going, he'd likely be torn apart without a single cut or obvious wound on his skin. 

In truth, this was Mikoto's own way of doing things.

It's something that nobody could master or perform as it required an extraordinary mastery of ones own body.

And Mikoto shows just that. This hinges on his extraordinary mastery over his body, allowing him to channel intense, controlled vibrations through his hand.

He can contract individual muscle fibers in rapid succession, creating a vibration effect, and his dense bones provide the stability needed to withstand and redirect this energy without harming himself. By compressing his hand's tissues upon gripping, he intensifies the contact area, enabling a direct transfer of force. Through precise control of pulse frequency, Mikoto can adjust the depth and impact of the vibrations, causing devastating internal effects. With his entire arm as a conduit, the energy flows in calculated waves through Charles's body, targeting soft tissues and blood vessels. It was internally destructive.

'So…this is death.' Charles thought, his vision whitening. His body was on the verge of collapse, blood pouring from his face as his senses overloaded. 'Damn it.' He'd had so much left to do. Was this how it all ended? But just as he felt himself slipping away, he caught a blurry figure out of the corner of his eye. Someone stood in front of Mikoto, his hair wild with movement. Tom.

With a snarl, Tom who was bloodied, lunged forward, right hand spearing toward Mikoto's throat. The force of the impact sent Charles sprawling to the ground as Mikoto's grip loosened. But instead of seeing Mikoto's throat pierced, Charles's blurry vision focused just enough to make out Tom's fingers, bent at unnatural angles.

'What…in the world?' The disbelief wasn't just Charles's. Tom's shocked expression mirrored it. The attack had landed directly on Mikoto's throat, yet Tom's fingers had broken against it. Charles had thought that finally, he might have a chance to live another day. A direct hit to the throat was meant to be fatal. But Mikoto's throat remained unscathed.

The shock of it hit Charles again. Not only was Mikoto's body indestructible, but his very skin was unnaturally fortified. Training one's body was one thing, but a hardened throat was impossible. You couldn't train a vital point like the throat to withstand such attacks. Normally, it would be the one place you'd have to protect or evade a hit to. But Mikoto's body defied all reason. His skin, his organs, even his bones had been honed into something terrifyingly impervious.

Charles watched, barely conscious, as Mikoto turned back to Tom with that same, unnerving calm. They were up against something beyond human limits.

Charles's mind reeled, struggling to make sense of what he'd just witnessed. Tom's spear-hand strike, a full-force, perfectly calculated blow backed by the momentum of over 180 kilograms of muscle and fury, had connected with Mikoto's throat. But instead of shattering Mikoto, the only thing that broke was Tom's own hand, his fingers twisted and mangled. Mikoto hadn't even flinched. There was no bruise, no cut, nothing. Charles wanted to deny the absurdity of what he'd seen, to reject this impossible scene before him. But reality offered no mercy.

'How…?' The question looped in his mind, echoing alongside Tom's own shock. Tom's face was locked in horror, pupils shrunk to pinpoints as he stared at his broken fingers. His attack had connected, yet he was the one left mangled. Even someone as hardened as Tom knew he couldn't achieve such impossible resilience. If their places were switched, Charles had no doubt Tom's own throat would have been pierced.

'Just what kind of monster are we dealing with?' Tom thought, chills seeping down his spine as he looked into Mikoto's blank, unreadable eyes. No human could withstand that without even bleeding.

"Boring." Mikoto's voice cut through their horror, calm and cold, as he seized Tom's neck with one hand and Charles's with the other, lifting them both off their feet. The kid's arms were like steel, and they struggled in vain, feeling his grip tighten, suffocating them. "You guys are no fun at all." he murmured, watching their desperation with disinterest. The world started to dim around them, their breaths shallow.

"Your guard's down, you bastard."

The voice snapped Charles and Tom's gazes downward, where Jinyeong had positioned himself directly in front of Mikoto, fist at the ready.

'Three. I can only do it three times,' Jinyeong reminded himself. His body could barely hold up, but he had just enough strength for three hits. If he could land all three precisely, he might just have a chance. 'I can put him down.' He thought, feeling the surge of his copied power pulsing through him.

'One.' Jinyeong drove his fist into Mikoto's liver, a shockwave rippling out from Mikoto's side. 'Two.' He followed up with a strike to the chest, aimed directly at the heart, sending another shockwave rippling through Mikoto. 'Three.' Jinyeong finished with a hit to the throat, a third shockwave bursting outward. His attacks had all landed perfectly, hitting the vital spots with the brutal power he'd copied from Gapryong.

"Why are you so fixated on my throat?" The calm voice sent a cold wave through Jinyeong as his eyes widened in disbelief. Mikoto's face remained as expressionless as ever, his body unfazed. Jinyeong's heart sank. 'There's no way, right? I hit him, I hit him with everything I had, with Gapryong's strength.'

Reality pressed down on him like a vice. He had used the strength of the strongest person he knew, and yet here was Mikoto, completely unharmed, with no scratch or bruise. Mikoto had taken his best shot and dismissed it without the faintest reaction, as if it were nothing. The strength that had once given Jinyeong hope for vengeance now felt like a fragile dream, collapsing under Mikoto's indifference.

"It's strange." Mikoto said, his gaze dissecting Jinyeong's resolve. "That strength you used, it doesn't belong to you." His voice was tinged with disdain. "You copied someone else's strength. How pathetic."

A chill of fear pulsed through Jinyeong. Mikoto had figured him out in an instant, laying bare the borrowed nature of his power. Jinyeong's heart twisted, feeling more powerless than he'd felt even against the Yamazaki clan. This was different, a primal fear. The kid hadn't even been serious, hadn't displayed any effort beyond his casual, apathetic gaze. What would happen if Mikoto chose to fight with his full strength?

"If that's all…" Mikoto's voice trailed off as he smashed his foot into Jinyeong's face, driving him into the ground with a force that created a pit beneath him. He held Jinyeong there, his foot pressing down with relentless pressure, preventing any chance of escape. "You three can go together." Mikoto's grip around Tom and Charles's necks tightened, their faces purpling as air became scarce, while his foot began to press harder onto Jinyeong's face, threatening to crush his skull.

'It's over.' All three of them thought the same, the haunting realization settling like a death shroud. They hadn't been the hunters here, they'd been prey from the very start, hopelessly outmatched.

But then, a sudden impact broke the silence.

The grip around Charles and Tom's necks loosened, and Mikoto's foot was lifted from Jinyeong's face. They crumpled to the ground, gasping for air as a calm, hardened voice reached their ears.

"Looks like I'm a bit late."

The three of them looked up to see the back of a figure standing between them and Mikoto. He wore a leather jacket over a red blazer, black pants, and gloves covering his hands. A small hat rested in his hand, his silhouette calm and commanding. It was Gapryong Kim.

"Stay back." Gapryong instructed, his tone unwavering and serious as he faced the red-haired kid. "I'll handle this."