The sky began to radiate streaks of orange light, piercing through gaps in the dark clouds. The clock showed 17:05.
Al stood on the edge of the sidewalk, slightly out of breath.
"Goodness… being a good kid is surprisingly troublesome."
Staring at the sky, he realized: coming home late meant… his integration mission would be delayed. But if he left now, he could still make it home before six, maybe even earlier—depending on the traffic on Makazhar Street.
He glanced toward the bus stop, a fair distance away. But peak traffic had already begun. The bus would take forever. That meant a taxi was the fastest option.
Taxi or just teleport? he pondered.
However, as he scanned the crowded neighborhood, his eyes caught several CCTV cameras mounted on nearby buildings. He could only let out a small sigh.
"Definitely taxi, then. In a city center like this, CCTV and drones could all be linked to the cyber police system monitoring 24/7. Not like the outskirts," he murmured lightly.
In his mind, if a kid suddenly disappeared from a frame, he might get flagged as a suspicious person.
With a quiet exhale, Al walked toward the main road to wait for a taxi. He also took the opportunity to wander a little, heading home while observing and scanning the city's spiritual energy, especially around the area where Indra lived.
"Maybe there's a restless spirit here that can be bullied," he muttered.
As he passed through a narrow alley between two old buildings, Al felt something—a pulse of magical aura, like a whisper only those with spiritual eyes could hear.
"Hm?" His gaze sharpened toward the alley.
Without hesitation, he stepped into the darkness. The narrow passages smelled of dust, rats, and forgotten history.
But… there was nothing. No one. The aura vanished.
Al frowned, then closed his eyes briefly. His right hand lifted and formed a subtle mudra. A wave of invisible energy rippled outward like a magical sonar.
No result. The aura was too subtle—or too skilled at hiding.
"Maybe it's just my imagination."
Just as he turned to leave…
At the far end of the alley, familiar silhouettes appeared—the thugs from earlier that morning, now accompanied by four hulking henchmen.
"Well, well, look who's strolling through our turf."
Al turned and looked at them.
"Wow. Wow. Wow. We didn't mean to bother you again today—yet here you came to us." the thug added.
Al felt a bit confused and scanned the surroundings.
Of all places, why do I run into them again…? Hmm, don't tell me someone led me here on purpose. he thought.
"You little brat! You were saved this morning because of Miss Rina. This time your story ends." one of the underlings said.
"Haha. True." the leader added.
They stepped closer to Al.
"But since I'm not an ordinary man, I'll give you a chance to voice your last wish… hehe."
"Last wish?" Al asked with a deliberately innocent face.
"Exactly. Your last… wish. Haha." the leader replied.
"Hm… does that mean we won't meet again after this?" Al asked.
The five of them exchanged looks and laughed loudly.
"Hahaha. Of course this will be the last. Good that you understand." the thug leader said, as if this really would be Al's end — or at least the end of his normal life.
Al stood calmly and nodded a little. His eyes were lazy. He muttered under his breath:
"Well, at least you're not making it troublesome. Then my last wish for this final meeting…" he said nonchalantly. "…is to be let go. Thank you."
He then stepped forward after speaking.
The four thugs froze at the unexpected, off-script request.
"Hey. That's not the right wish?" the leader snapped.
"Huh? The 'right' wish? Did we ever discuss the rules for wishes?" Al retorted.
The thugs looked foolish; irritated that their own words had been used against them. Feeling mocked, they grew restless and angrier.
"Kid. Stop joking!" one of them barked.
"Hmm… you were the one who asked me to say my last wish. Now you call it a joke. Weird people." Al turned back to the street and started to walk away.
But the thugs wouldn't let him.
"Haha, kid. I think you're the weird one. Just because we ask for a wish doesn't mean we'll grant it." the leader shot back.
Al stopped and slapped his forehead.
"Haah… then what's the point of asking?" he said, shaking his head. "You love wasting people's time with your stupidity."
"You!" they screamed.
Feeling increasingly toyed with, the thugs could no longer contain themselves.
"Enough. Teach him a lesson!" the leader ordered.
His men lunged forward.
All four moved at once — two from the front and two from behind — surrounding Al. Two wielded wooden planks, two attacked empty-handed.
Al shook his head again as he watched. He looked front and back. Their movements seemed painfully slow to him.
"I think you all need to lose some weight. Bodies too big. But you're too slow." he said lazily.
Then he smiled and moved. Fast. The four struggled to read his motion.
With surgical precision he unleashed strikes even before their attacks landed.
Punches, kicks, throws, and brutal hits targeted each weak point of the thugs — at a speed that wasn't human.
By the sixth second, the four henchmen stood rigid around Al, as if their consciousness had left before their bodies did. No magic. Just hands, feet, knees, and inhuman accuracy.
As a finishing touch, Al executed a spinning 360-degree kick that slammed into all four, sending them flying in different directions into the walls.
Al stood casually again after the attack and nodded.
"Four average-built guys in seven seconds. I'm a bit slow today. Guess I'm tired from last night. Two seconds would've been enough for them." he assessed.
The thug leader was slightly shocked — he hadn't expected the kid he'd come after to be this skilled.
"Damn. Maybe his talk at school this afternoon wasn't all bluff." he muttered, remembering Al's threat. "But no matter how good you fight, you'll still die against a weapon. haha" he said, still pumped up.
He drew a knife, stepped forward, and let out a growl. The intent to kill was clear.
"Don't act tough, stinky kid! Die!" he shouted.
Al stopped. He rubbed his neck and stared straight into the thug's eyes, reading the murderous intent.
"I thought your kind of thug only specialized in extortion and bullying. So you also want to kill. Interesting." Al said.
At that moment Al's eyes flared. A faint red-black energy began to cloak his body, spreading like a mist that almost filled the alley.
His voice dropped, cutting through the air.
"But you should learn something." he said coldly. "If you're ready to hurt others… you must be ready to be hurt. And… if you're ready to kill…" his gaze sharpened and the energy flared more.
"…you must also be ready to die."
And
WOSHHH!!!
In an instant, the air turned heavy.
Al's eyes burned with a killing intent unlike anything ordinary—feral, ancient, and soaked in the weight of thousands of years of battle.
The stone walls around them began to crack.
Animals nearby scattered in panic, fleeing the area.
The gang leader who had been moving suddenly froze, halted mid-step under the pressure of that energy.
His body couldn't move at all. Cold sweat poured down his face, a surge of intense fear overtook him, and he just stood there, paralyzed. The pressure was strong—too strong.
"What… is this?" he muttered, bewildered, unable to comprehend what was happening. Only a massive, pitch-black figure seemed to appear in his vision, staring at Al.
His body wavered and…
BRUK.
He collapsed, unconscious, without anyone touching him.
---
In a modern-traditional dojo not far away, the Leader of the Palaka Dojo—Makazhar Traditional Arts—and his charismatic vice-leader, Rina, were in the middle of a relaxed discussion with several members.
"You look joyful. What's going on?" the leader asked Rina.
"Ahaha… just like you said, Master. Doing good always brings joy," Rina replied cheerfully.
"Oh? Really? And what exactly did you do?" he asked again.
"Nothing big… just helped a school friend get out of trouble with some thugs," Rina answered.
"Hehe, you don't need to downplay yourself like that. Even small acts of kindness hold great value. And as martial artists, we really should…" the man began, but then paused.
Suddenly, a surge of powerful energy swept through the area.
He and Rina instantly tensed. They could feel the presence clearly, while the other members only sensed it faintly due to their lower sensitivity.
The two exchanged looks, both unsure what kind of terrifying force they had just felt.
"Rina... did you feel that?"
"Yes, Master. That energy… it's incredibly strong. My whole body is getting goosebumps." Rina replied, eyes tracing the hairs standing on her arms.
The two of them nodded at each other, and then they shot off, followed closely by several other members.
---
In a matter of seconds, five major martial arts groups across Makazhar reacted. Moving fast across rooftops and shadows, they converged on the scene.
At the site, all five groups met. They stared at each other, recognizing one another. Each group brought several members, making the alley feel slightly crowded.
Two groups wore casual clothes, one had a traditional style, and the other two clearly marked themselves as martial artists with fighting attire and belts fastened.
"You again?" said someone who looked old but had a fit body, from the black-uniformed dojo team.
"Still alive, huh, old dojo master," came the reply.
"Huh, still arrogant, aren't you, Black Cat," said the leader of another dojo wearing casual clothes.
They exchanged jabs for a while, more focused on competitive spirits than their actual objectives.
Until the Palaka Dojo leader spoke up,
"I want to take you all on, but unfortunately, this isn't the place for verbal sparring. There's a deadly energy here that we need to investigate. We can continue our conflict elsewhere and later, if you really want to fight." He spoke with authority.
Although uncomfortable, they all agreed and began scanning the surrounding area.
They discovered five thugs, battered and beaten, one of whom—the thinnest with fake blond hair—was unconscious.
After waking them, they began questioning—but the thugs just looked dazed and confused.
"Uh… who am I?"
"Why am I here?"
"I like the color purple…"
Some people were trying to analyze the lingering energy residue. A few traces of it could still be felt, yet the energy was unusual—unlike anything they had sensed before.
Some believed it came from a mage, while others suspected it was from a spiritual being. But in the end, no one really knew what it was.
Meanwhile, Rina recognized them—they were the thugs she had taken down earlier.
If I'm not mistaken, they're the ones from before… Rudi's subordinates. Why are they so battered? she wondered.
She looked closer. Four of them had bruises but seemed to have suffered concussions, while the one who was unconscious had no visible injuries at all—yet somehow appeared the worst off.
Don't tell me this is the doing of that boy named Al? Rina thought again.
Then shook her head.
Impossible. He doesn't seem to have any magical energy. Most likely, he has strong subordinates. But I don't know this kid in the elite circles. Even a Virellano kid might struggle to hire someone capable of making a Master shiver from that terrifying energy.
She analyzed silently, without reaching a conclusion.
She then coded a signal to her master and whispered the information.
The man nodded, keeping the information exclusive to them. There was no need to tell the other groups—whatever had happened, it remained a big question mark.
After observing for a while, they realized there wasn't much more to find. Yet with the presence of that overwhelming energy, a real threat weighed heavily on their chests.
They grew more alert, reinforcing themselves and heightening their city-wide vigilance.
---
From a distant rooftop, Al let out a long sigh.
"Too much. Why is my killing intent so overpowering in this dimension? Are humans here really that fragile…"
He looked down, watching as five martial arts organizations began arguing and blaming one another.
Most of them were Novice level martial artist, with a few mid and early stage Practitioner level like Rina, and two expert level—one of whom stood right beside her.
"Oh, that's Rina from before. She's part of some martial arts community, huh. I guess the guy near her is her teacher or master. Not bad." Al said casually.
Al himself wasn't particularly surprised by their presence, nor did he care much about what was happening below. He almost laughed at their bickering, but then realized it was nearly six o'clock.
"Huff… better head home now."
And just like that, he vanished from the spot.
Soon, the sky had already darkened, streetlights flickering on. Al was already seated inside a taxi.
"Why am I being such a good kid today…"
He sighed, realizing that sometimes being good was far more exhausting than fighting. Especially if you were both a good kid and rich.
---
Half an hour later, Al arrived in front of his mansion as the sky had completely lost its light. The sun had set too quickly—or perhaps he had lingered too long.
In his focus on the killing intent earlier, he had forgotten that his shirt was dull, his pants slightly torn at the knees from his rapid movements, and his right shoe was wet from some gutter splash—fortunately, without odor since it was only a small splash.
At the same time, a black SUV pulled into the driveway. From the slowly lowering window, Sarah stared at Al with a tired expression. Then a small smirk curled on her lips—the smug grin of a sister who had just discovered new ammo to defeat her long-time rival… her little brother.
"Perfect," she whispered, stepping out like a drama queen fresh from filming a family soap opera.
Meanwhile, Al hurried to his room, mind swirling with one troubling question: why had his killing intent spun out of control just now?
It had been six years since he last used it. Six years living as a normal human. Maybe—just maybe—he had started to forget how to control the darkness inside him.
---