The speedboat cut through the North Atlantic swells like a knife, its powerful engines roaring as it raced toward the distant coastline. Salt spray whipped across the deck as the vessel bounced over each wave, its occupants gripping whatever handholds they could find.
Lord Ravenscar gripped the railing, his knuckles bone-white as he stared back at the orange glow on the horizon where his fortress burned.
"How much further?" Earl Ashridge shouted over the engine noise, his usual composure shattered like ice on stone.
The boat's captain, one of Ravenscar's most trusted men, checked his instruments. "Twenty minutes to the mainland, my lord! Then we're in the clear!"
Lord Greycairn wiped salt spray from his aristocratic features, his expression grim. "Twenty minutes might as well be twenty hours. That wizard found us on an unmarked island. What makes you think distance will stop him?"
"Because he's still human," Ravenscar snapped, though his voice carried less conviction than his words. "Magic or no magic, battling all our guards and eliminating North would have to injure and exhaust him. He can't be invincible."
The remaining guards—only four had made it to the boat—positioned themselves around the vessel's perimeter, scanning the darkness with professional wariness.
"Maybe he didn't follow us," Ashridge said hopefully. "Maybe he was satisfied with destroying the fortress."
Ravenscar's laugh was bitter. "You still don't understand what we're dealing with. This isn't about property damage. That wizard wants us dead, and he's proven remarkably effective at getting what he wants."
The boat continued its desperate flight, engines pushed beyond their normal limits. For several minutes, nothing disturbed their escape except the constant battle against the waves and the acrid smell of overheated metal.
The mainland grew larger with each passing moment, promising sanctuary and the chance to disappear into their network of safe houses.
Then the first guard simply collapsed.
No sound. No warning. One moment he was scanning the sky with his rifle, the next he was motionless on the deck.
"Contact!" another guard shouted, swinging his weapon toward the darkness. "I can't see—"
He dropped mid-sentence.
The remaining two guards opened fire wildly, muzzle flashes strobing against the night as they pumped rounds into empty air. Their bullets found nothing but ocean and stars. Then they too dropped.
Within thirty seconds, deadly silence returned to the boat.
Arthur materialized on the bow like condensing shadow, his black robes barely distinguishable from the night sky. He held his wand casually at his side, as if this were a social call rather than an execution.
"Gentlemen." His voice carried perfectly despite the engine noise. "Going somewhere?"
The three lords backed toward the stern, but their movements remained controlled and dignified. Even facing death, they carried themselves like the aristocrats they were.
"So," Ravenscar said, his voice carrying hard-earned authority despite the circumstances. "You're our mysterious hunter. Quite impressive work tonight, I must say. But I confess, we're still uncertain who deserves the credit."
"No?" Arthur sounded genuinely amused. "All those resources, all those investigations, and you're still guessing?"
"We have theories," Greycairn ventured carefully. "But confirmation would help us... proceed appropriately."
"Proceed?" The word dripped mockery. "You think there's a negotiation coming?"
"Everyone has a price," Ashridge said, forcing confidence into his voice. "We've built empires on that principle."
"How delightfully optimistic." Arthur raised his wand toward a section of the boat's equipment. "Wait a moment. Let me handle something first."
A Blasting Curse destroyed the communication array in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
"What? Why?" Ashridge demanded.
"Destroyed the communication equipment," Arthur said conversationally. "You know, for secrecy."
"Paranoid much?" Ravenscar muttered.
"I'm dealing with criminal lords who've corrupted half of Europe," Arthur replied calmly. "It demands that I be careful."
"Now, where were we? Yes, my identity." Arthur's mask concealed his expression, but his voice carried satisfaction. "You guessed correctly. I'm Arthur Hayes."
The three lords exchanged glances—surprise, calculation, and dawning realization flickering across their faces. Survival was going to be more difficult than they'd hoped.
"Hayes," Ashridge repeated slowly. "You've grown considerably since we last... paid attention to you."
"Apparently not enough attention," Arthur observed. "Or I wouldn't be here, would I? Though I heard you tried some half-hearted cleanup afterward."
"Standard procedure," Greycairn said stiffly. "Loose ends tend to—"
"—come back for revenge?" Arthur laughed, sharp and bright. "Yes, I can see how that might be inconvenient."
Ravenscar stepped forward slightly, his demeanor shifting to something more respectful. "Your father was a remarkable man, Arthur. Brilliant financial mind. His refusal to work with us was... regrettable, but we understood his principles. Misguided, perhaps, but admirable in their way."
Arthur laughed—a sound that made all three men flinch.
"My father?" Arthur's voice carried genuine amusement. "You think my father was the investment genius?"
The lords looked genuinely puzzled.
"Well, you went after the wrong target entirely," Arthur said with obvious satisfaction. "It wasn't my father making those brilliant financial decisions. You see, as a child I wanted to be wealthy, and to make that possible, I used to give my father carefully veiled hints about market movements, which companies would succeed and which would fail. It was always me."
The silence that followed was deafening except for the boat's engines.
"Impossible," Greycairn said flatly. "You were ten years old."
"Yes, I was ten. So I had to invest through my father as a front," Arthur explained. "But I regret it now. My greed and rush for quick success attracted villains like you three to target my family. I wish I had remembered then that the world was dangerous, and that established powers wouldn't allow some newcomer to become wealthy without proper backing."
"You're lying," Ashridge said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Am I?" Arthur shrugged. "Believe what you want. But if you had investigated properly—really investigated my family instead of making assumptions—you would have discovered that my father had no investment philosophy and made decisions on apparent whims. He didn't possess that kind of ability before I turned five. You could have checked his records and seen my school records while you were at it—perfect marks across the board."
The lords stared at him with growing horror.
"No," Ravenscar whispered.
"Oh yes," Arthur said cheerfully. "The same 'terrible genius' that created those investment strategies is here for revenge. You were fortunate that I didn't have proper resources to trace you three before now. Otherwise, I would have come after you much sooner."
"We can still reach an arrangement—" Ashridge began desperately.
"Oh, please continue," Arthur said with mock eagerness. "I'm fascinated to hear how you plan to negotiate my sparing the people responsible for my parents' deaths. What could you possibly offer that would interest me more than watching you burn?"
Ravenscar gathered himself, falling back on decades of successful manipulation. "Hayes, you must understand the broader implications of your actions. Killing us would lead to chaos. The work we do—"
"Oh, here we go," Arthur interrupted with evident delight. "Please, tell me how you're secret heroes saving the world. How you've brainwashed yourselves into believing you're the good guys. Remember, I've read all your memories."
This silenced them momentarily. They had to think carefully now, knowing Arthur possessed intimate knowledge of their operations and couldn't be fooled with baseless justifications.
Greycairn began carefully, "We are the people who bring balance to the world. Consider the bigger picture, Hayes. Your parents' deaths—tragic, yes—but weigh that against the hundreds of thousands who would have died in conflicts we've prevented. The financial networks we've built have stopped three major economic collapses."
Arthur made an exaggerated thinking expression. "Hmm. How exactly are these related to my parents?"
"They're not directly related," Greycairn admitted. "But they're connected to why we're necessary in this world. The underground financial systems we maintain allow governments to function when official channels fail. We've prevented major economic collapses this way and saved countless countries."
"How fascinating!" Arthur's enthusiasm was clearly mocking. "Tell me more about your heroic endeavors. Your child trafficking operations, for instance? I'm sure those serve the greater good too?"
"We don't traffic children," Greycairn said quickly. "We provide them with better opportunities. We take starving, abandoned children and give them chances for brighter futures. Not all succeed, but such is life. Opportunities are always limited."
Arthur actually applauded slowly. "Brilliant! I never expected such creative justification for the cruel fates you condemn those children to in organ farms and what not."
"You're young, Hayes," Ravenscar said desperately. "Idealistic. You see the world in simple terms, but reality is far more complex. Sometimes evil must serve good. Sometimes monsters are necessary to keep worse monsters at bay."
"And naturally, you three volunteered for this terrible burden," Arthur said with fake sympathy. "How noble. How self-sacrificing."
"We've also helped oppressed people gain the strength to fight for their rights," Ashridge added.
"You mean supplying weapons to rebel groups in stable countries, causing civil wars that resulted in tens of thousands of civilian deaths," Arthur corrected cheerfully.
"That's how the world evolves," Greycairn insisted. "Fight the oppressors and overthrow them. Certainly there are innocent casualties, but they have no other choice for freedom."
"Okay, no need to continue anymore," Arthur said with obvious boredom. "I told you—I've seen your memories. Every rationalization, every self-serving lie you tell yourselves. So unless you have something actually interesting to say?"
"The Covenant!" Ashridge said suddenly, grasping at their final hope. "Kill us, and both governments will hunt you forever. Wizard and Muggle authorities working together. You'll never have peace."
Arthur was quiet for a moment, appearing to consider this. "You might be right. It would certainly complicate my life."
Hope flickered in their eyes like dying embers.
"Then again," he continued conversationally, "you're also the three most corrupt men in Britain. Your deaths might be exactly what this system needs. Fresh blood, new perspectives..." He smiled behind his mask. "Worth the risk, I think."
The hope died instantly.
"You're making a mistake," Greycairn said desperately, his hand moving clearly toward his jacket. "Without us, there will be chaos—"
"There might be some chaos initially," Arthur agreed. "But I'd like to use your own quote—it's good for the greater good."
All three men lunged for their concealed guns simultaneously, their final gambit playing out with desperate precision.
"There we go," Arthur said approvingly as his cutting spells flew faster than their reflexes could manage. "Finally some honesty from you three."
Screams split the night as hands separated from wrists. Pistols clattered across blood-slicked deck.
Arthur raised his wand with deliberate ceremony. "This is for my parents," he said quietly. "And for all your other crimes. Justice has been long overdue."
"This isn't justice!" Ashridge screamed through his agony. "This is revenge!"
Arthur tilted his head, considering. "You know what? You're absolutely right."
He cast two spells in rapid succession.
The first coated all three men in a thick, flammable substance that clung to their skin like tar.
The second was a small, bright flame.
Arthur rose into the air as the boat's deck became an inferno. He didn't watch the details—he wasn't completely lost to darkness—but he remained long enough to ensure the job was finished properly.
The fire spread to the fuel tanks within minutes. The explosion lit up the night sky briefly before the wreckage began its inevitable descent toward the ocean floor.
From his aerial vantage point, Arthur cast his signature-cleaning spell one final time, erasing every trace of magic from the scene. To any investigation, this would be an unsolved case. Just another tragedy in the dangerous world of organized crime.
Arthur opened a portal back to the island stronghold. There was still cleanup remaining and he needed to ensure there were no survivors who might complicate matters. After that, he would return home for some well-deserved rest.
His parents were finally avenged.
The men who had destroyed his family were gone.
But important decisions still lay ahead about what he would do next. Embrace this new life as a vigilante working to make the world crime-free, or forget this path and move on to other pursuits.
Time would tell which direction his life would take.