FAMILY KILLER?

Amidst the disorienting chaos of deafening explosion sounds reverberating through the once lively brothel, a wave of urgent panic swept through every corner, prompting a swift and frenzied evacuation.

Aiden, Aria, and Andrew finally escaped from the brothel and went outside as they followed the crowd.

Two girls were waiting outside for the boys.

"There they are."

Said Naomi, a beautiful goddess who had a scar on her right forehead.

"WHO IS THIS WOMAN HOLDING AIDEN AND ANREW?"

Said a somewhat overweight woman with the same battle suit as Andrew.

She got angry, just like Andrew, the moment she saw the white-haired woman carrying Aiden.

In the possible final moments of his life, Aiden, having completed his mission, uttered a sigh of relief.

"Ahh, finally, we could go hom—"

His sentence was abruptly cut short as he spat blood, a cruel reminder of the perilous world he inhabited. His soul, on the verge of departing, lingered just long enough for him to experience the peculiar sensation of being once again subjected to an unexpected and painfully familiar dick punch.

The assaulter, revealed as Ashley unleashing a devastating technique. 

"]Unamed Technique: FAMILY KILLER["

Aiden, caught in the throes of agony, could only gasp as the significance of the attack unfolded. Amidst the chaos, Ashley, fueled by a unique fury, decried,

"MINETA, YOU UGLY GNOME, ONLY KACCHAN (Torao) CAN HAVE A HAREM."

Her powerful left strike, a manifestation of her vehement objection, obliterated any semblance of a future family for Aiden.

In those fleeting moments, as Aiden's consciousness waned, he grasped a profound realization — the intrinsic value of a singular and committed companionship. The echoes of his untimely demise served as a stark lesson in the cataclysmic dance of relationships, where the pursuit of a harem met an unforeseen and brutal end.

A woman shrouded in an aura of seething rage and killing intent emerged as a chilling manifestation of vendetta behind her.

"What did you say about this Kacchan (Torao)?"

Said Naomi with the dark eyes of a killer.

"But . . . where is Torao?" Naomi nervously, her gaze scanning the surroundings in a futile search for their missing companion.

"I am here,"

Torao's voice sliced through the air, a surprising revelation that caught the group off guard. He emerged from the shadows behind them, his presence undetected until that moment. The others turned, startled by his sudden appearance, as Torao stood with an enigmatic calm that hinted at a mastery of stealth.

'He is alive?'

Said Aria in her mind, her thoughts carrying a blend of disbelief and confusion. The reappearance of Torao thought to be absent or perhaps even dead, added another layer of uncertainty to the unfolding situation.

'He is dangerous', Aria asserted, her tone now laced with a sense of wariness. The enigmatic nature of Torao, coupled with the revelation of his presence, seemed to cast a shadow over their perceptions. Aria's confusion had evolved into a heightened sense of caution.

"Our job here is done. It's only Thanks to your help that we succeeded. "

Said Torao, as he didn't bother to explain who the woman was or what happened there.

'Is no one going to question why he is wearing a skirt? No? No one?'

Said the woman as she was visibly curious about this cross-dressed bodybuilder.

"Soon, the police will come, and I will give them all the evidence to put my brother in jail. Its better for all of you to go home and rest."

Said Torao with a happy expression, and everyone headed towards their home.

IN A FANTASY LOOKING DOJO

The air was imbued with an otherworldly energy, and the ambience resonated with a supernatural beauty. A man, clad in intricate martial attire, sat serenely on a cushion placed near a pink spring blossom. The tree, towering and majestic, stood as a testament to nature's magic, adorned with blossoms that seemed to carry a hint of enchantment.

As if touched by the essence of mystical forces, a subtle but vibrant smoke of mana wafted from every branch of the colossal tree. The mana, in hues of iridescent colours, danced in the air, creating an aura that blended the tangible and the magical.

His presence harmonizing with the enchanting surroundings of the dojo. It was a moment suspended in time, where the mundane met the extraordinary, and the beauty of the scene whispered tales of ancient secrets and martial arts steeped in arcane traditions.

The man seated near the pink spring blossom bore a striking resemblance to the captivating Torao, though his features took on the maturity of adulthood. His raven-black hair cascaded down to his hips, a flowing curtain of darkness that added an air of mystique to his presence. Unlike Torao, his eyes were a mesmerizing shade of crimson, reflecting a depth of wisdom and power.

As he meditated in the enchanting atmosphere of the fantastical dojo, the play of mana around him seemed to respond to the energy emanating from his very being. The combination of his alluring appearance and the magical atmosphere created an otherworldly presence where the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary blurred, unveiling a tale of mystical prowess and timeless beauty.

A messenger, visibly distressed with beads of sweat adorning his face, the messenger seemed hesitant, as if the weight of his message weighed heavily on his shoulders. The once-serene atmosphere was disrupted.

The man with the long hair, now with open eyes, regarded the messenger with a composed curiosity tinged with concern. The palpable fear in the messenger's delivery hinted at the gravity of the unexpected revelation, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the once-peaceful ambience of the fantastical training ground.

 "Master Arakan I am here to deliver bad news about young master Torao and young master Zephyr."

Arakan regarded the messenger with an intrigued smile.

"Speak."

Said Arakan with a terrifying masculine voice as he waved his hand.

The messenger shiverеd in fear as he was delivering the grim news.

"It seems that Young Master Zephyr somehow offended Young Master Torao. . . Master Torao visited his brothel with some people and they. . ."

Arakan's eyebrow arched with intrigue as the messenger conveyed the unsettling news.

*gulp*

"After a report from the association, it was revealed that they found seven dead corpses. One of them was confirmed to be... young master Zephyr,"

the man paused, observing the horror-stricken expression that crept across Arakan's face.

Arakan's countenance darkened, shadows playing across his features as he lowered his head in apparent grief.

"Torao... not only did you kill my only disciple, but you also killed my son too? Your brother..."

Arakan's voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of the revelation.

As Arakan stared at the floor, memories flooded his mind—the times he cradled his baby son, the moments spent nurturing and training him into a formidable mage.

To an outsider, it seemed as though Arakan was consumed by chaos and sorrow for his son's death, but the truth was far more complex.

Lifting his head, Arakan's gaze met the sun, tears streaming down his face. However, these were not tears of grief but of happiness.

"I really succeeded as a father,"

He declared, a peculiar pride emanating from his words. Arakan's unconventional reaction to the news revealed a complex tapestry of emotions—a proud father finding fulfilment and pride in the unexpected outcome of his sons' clash.

Even though joy and pride coursed through Arakan's veins at the success of his son, a solemn responsibility weighed on his shoulders. With a composed demeanour, he wiped his tears away, rising from his seated position as if he were the happiest person in the world.

"Prepare a secluded chamber within his city, ensuring absolute soundproofing. It should be a place where no whisper can escape."

Arakan instructed, his voice carrying an air of authority. 

...............

AUTHOR NOTE!!!

Should I step up the pace?

I have many things to write in this novel.

Please comment if you want it to be faster or if this is okay.