The thrill of the Disaster Duo's raid on the Obsidian Syndicate had buzzed through the school for days, but for Yuhon, the excitement had settled into a low, steady hum of determination.
If the Duo could take on S-ranks, then he could certainly handle the smaller pests plaguing his own backyard.
His next target came from a snippet of conversation overheard in the hallway—a worried mention of a new, aggressive drug supplier called the Xenoh group pushing their product near the school.
"It's probably nothing," Jin had said, nervously shuffling his books. "Just rumors."
"Rumors start somewhere," Mei had countered, her brow furrowed.
"And drugs around a school isn't 'nothing.' It's a targeted strategy. Get them hooked young."
That was all Yuhon needed to hear.
That evening, under the guise of studying at the library, he became the Grinning Fox and began his patrol in the run-down commercial district where the whispers pointed.
For an hour, he saw nothing but closed shops and flickering streetlights. Then, a sound—a harsh voice from a narrow alleyway between a pawn shop and a boarded-up restaurant.
"—not a suggestion, old man. It's an opportunity. A little pick-me-up. Makes the long nights easier, yeah?"
Yuhon melted into the shadows of a fire escape, looking down.
Two men in cheap leather jackets had an older delivery driver pinned against a wall. One was waving a small, neon-blue vial in the man's face.
"Please, I don't want any trouble," the driver stammered, trying to push the vial away. "I just want to go home."
"Trouble's what you'll get if you don't buy in," the second thug sneered.
"This is Xenoh territory now. Everyone pays the happiness tax."
Xenoh. Yuhon's focus sharpened. Bingo.
The Fox dropped down behind them, landing without a sound.
"I'd like to see the receipt for that tax," he said, his voice a flat, projected growl.
The two thugs spun around, their surprise quickly turning to aggression when they saw the lone figure in the fox mask.
"Get lost, freak!" the first one barked, shoving the vial into his pocket and pulling out a knife.
The delivery driver didn't wait. He saw his chance and bolted down the alley, disappearing into the night.
"You just cost us a sale," the second thug snarled, cracking his knuckles.
A faint, sickly green energy flickered around his hands. A low-tier enhancement skill. D-rank at best.
"I'll pay you back," the Fox said calmly. "With interest."
The one with the knife lunged.
Yuhon didn't bother with any martial arts finesse. He moved faster than the man could follow, his hand snapping out to grip the knife-wrist.
There was a sharp crack. The man screamed, the knife clattering to the ground. A quick, precise chop to the neck silenced him.
The enhanced thug's eyes went wide. He threw a wild, green-tinged punch.
Yuhon caught the fist in his palm, the impact letting out a dull thud. The thug stared, horrified, as his enhanced strength was completely neutralized.
"You're… you're not a civvy," the thug gasped.
"Observant," the Fox said. His grip tightened, and the man cried out in pain as the bones in his hand creaked in protest.
"Now. You're going to take me to your base. The main one. Not some street-level drop point."
"I-I can't! They'll kill me!"
Yuhon's free hand ignited with a silent, mesmerizing blue flame. He held it close to the man's face, the heat making him sweat.
"I," the Fox said softly, "will do worse than kill you. I will make you forget your own name. Now. Lead the way."
Terror proved a powerful motivator. The thug, pale and trembling, nodded frantically.
"O-okay! Okay! It's this way! Please, don't burn me!"
He led Yuhon to a seemingly abandoned subway access tunnel, its gate rusted and chained shut.
With a fumbling key, the thug opened a hidden side panel and led the way down a dark, damp staircase into the earth. The air grew thick with the smell of mildew and chemicals.
"Th-the main processing and storage is down here," the thug whispered, his voice echoing in the concrete tunnel.
"There's… there's about thirty guys. A few of them are… are real hunters. B-ranks."
"How thoughtful of them to gather in one place," the Fox murmured.
"Saves me a lot of legwork."
He looked at his guide. "Your services are no longer required."
A light tap with a frosted finger to the temple put the man into a deep, dreamless sleep, hidden behind a stack of old pipes.
The tunnel opened into a vast, underground chamber that had once been a maintenance hub. Now, it was a labyrinth of makeshift labs, packing stations, and sleeping cots.
Thirty-two men, just as promised. The air hummed with low conversation, the clink of glass, and the underlying current of latent power from the B-ranks—three of them, by the feel of it, lounging near a large steel door that likely led to the main stash.
No more holding back.
The Fox stepped out of the shadows.
"Party's over," he announced, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.
"The health inspector is here. And you all fail."
Every head turned. For a second, there was stunned silence. Then, chaos erupted.
The low-level lackeys, emboldened by numbers and chemicals, charged first. They were a wave of shouting, clumsy violence.
Yuhon met them.
He didn't weave or dodge; he became the storm. His hands moved in blurs, trailing blue fire and silver frost.
A touch would send a man spinning away, his jacket encased in ice.
A glancing blow would leave another nursing a superficially scorched arm.
He moved through them like a whirlwind, a precise, non-lethal cyclone of controlled power.
The air filled with the sounds of shattering ice, startled yelps, and the thuds of bodies hitting the concrete floor.
Within a few moments, twenty-nine men were down, groaning, frozen in place, or simply unconscious.
The three B-ranks were now on their feet, their casual arrogance replaced by wary tension. They fanned out.
One, a wiry man with tattoos snaking up his arms, raised his hands. The concrete floor at Yuhon's feet turned to thick, grasping mud. Earth manipulation.
The second, a woman with cropped hair, drew twin pistols that glowed with concentrated energy.
"Hold him still!" she barked.
The third, the largest, cracked his neck, his body swelling, muscles tearing through his shirt. A brute-strength enhancer.
The Fox simply sank into the mud—and then exploded out of it, propelled by a jet of blue flame from his soles.
He flew straight at the gunwoman. Her eyes widened; she fired.
Yuhon twisted in mid-air, the energy bolts sizzling past him. He landed in front of her, grabbed both pistols, and melted them into dripping slag in her hands with a single pulse of heat.
Before she could react, he placed a palm on her shoulder.
She growled "Bastard! let go o..." her voice stopped before she could finish,
A wave of harmless but terrifyingly cold frost spread across her, flash-freezing her clothes and locking her in place, a human popsicle of shock.
"You son of a bitch!"
The earth manipulator roared, pulling chunks of concrete from the walls and hurling them.
Yuhon didn't flinch. He pointed a finger, and lances of scarlet lightning—a fraction of his true power—intercepted each projectile, vaporizing them mid-air into clouds of dust.
"Scoundrel! I will crush you to death!"
Losing his patience the brute charged, a freight train of enhanced muscle. Yuhon stood his ground.
As the man threw a punch that could crumple steel, Yuhon caught the fist. The impact echoed through the chamber.
"What kind of strength..."
The brute's eyes bulged in disbelief. Yuhon's arm didn't budge an inch.
"My turn," the Fox said.
He didn't punch back. He simply squeezed. The sound of crushing bone and metal was sickeningly loud.
The brute screamed, his enhanced strength useless against the immovable force gripping him.
Yuhon swung him around like a ragdoll and tossed him into the earth manipulator, sending both crashing into a lab table in a shower of glass and chemicals.
Silence returned to the underground base.
Yuhon walked over to the large steel door.
He placed his hand on it, and a wave of blue fire turned the locking mechanism into molten soup. He kicked it open.
Inside was a fortune in cash, gold, and the neon-blue Xenoh drug.
He ignored it all. His eyes were on the leader of the brute, who was struggling to sit up amidst the wreckage, clutching his ruined hand.
The Fox stood over him. "Who do you report to? This is too big for you."
The man spat blood, a defiant glare in his eyes. "Go to hell. You have no idea who you're messing with."
"Enlighten me."
"We're just a branch! A small branch! You think this is something?" the man laughed, a hysterical, pained sound.
"You're dead! The Grey Fog group will scrub you from existence for this! They don't tolerate failures!"
He realized his mistake a second too late, his eyes widening in horror.
Grey Fog group. Yuhon filed the name away. A higher-up. A bigger fish.
"Thanks for the tip," the Fox said.
He leaned down, and his mask's grin seemed to widen in the dim light.
"Now, about scrubbing…" He raised a hand, frost gathering around his fingertips.
"Let's talk about hygiene."
A few minutes later, Yuhon emerged from the underground.
The authorities would find the base, the drugs, and thirty-two very cold, very cooperative criminals, all eager to confess everything they knew, especially about a certain "Grey Fog."
The Grinning Fox disappeared into the night, a new name echoing in his mind, a new link in the chain.