Chapter 35
Back to the Present.
Ronan stared down at the ground, lost in thought. He'd come here hoping to reconnect with some sliver of good memory, something to keep him tethered to his humanity. But there was nothing. No warmth. No joy. Only a single, burning goal.
Kill that monster of a man.
A sudden scream cut through the air.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Ronan snapped his head up. A small figure—a girl—was plummeting from the top of the Ferris wheel. If she hit the ground at that speed, she'd die.
Damn it... I'm no hero, Ronan thought, his body already moving, but I'm not letting a kid die on my watch.
He sprinted forward, vaulting over fences, scaling structures with fluid agility. Just before she hit the ground, Ronan caught her in his arms, landing with a sharp grunt.
"Haa... haa…" The girl panted, gripping onto him tightly. She was shaking, but alive. Safe.
She looked up to thank her savior—only to freeze. There was no smile, no comforting words. Just a man with a blank, expressionless face.
"Be careful… if you don't want to die," Ronan muttered, setting her down gently before turning and walking away.
The girl watched him go, stunned. What kind of hero doesn't smile...? A dead-faced one, she thought.
Ronan continued to the far end of the park, stepping into a large, worn-down building. Minutes later, eight men entered behind him—all of them with distinct mustaches, each carrying weapons and wearing matching badges.
Inside the building –
Ronan stood at the far end, eyes cold.
"You call yourselves heroes," he said flatly, "yet you let a child fall just to bait me out."
The men burst out laughing.
"You're a funny guy," one said. "You—the Exterminator—daring to speak like a hero to us?"
"I'm not a hero," Ronan replied. "But I'm still human. Unlike you monsters."
The laughter stopped. The air shifted. Anger replaced arrogance.
"You've got a big mouth," another growled, stepping forward—only to be stopped by their leader.
"We, the Iron Stache Guild, are here to bring you back to ARC. You're a danger to society."
Ronan scoffed. "No… you're just here for the bounty."
"Alive or dead, you're worth 100 million yen," the leader said, cracking his knuckles. "Surrender, and we might not send your corpse."
Ronan slowly drew two knives—one he took from WRS, the other from a northern gang he'd dismantled. Rusty, worn, and simple.
"That's it?" one man scoffed. "Just two junk knives? Is this even the right guy?"
"I've had enough," Ronan said, calm but firm. "Let's get this over with."
He charged.
The Iron Stache Guild reacted instantly, activating their skills and wielding power weapons. The air exploded with light, force, and violence—but something was off.
After the first few exchanges, the guild members had scratches and injuries. Ronan? Not a single hit.
"This doesn't make sense…" one muttered.
"It should've ended already," another whispered.
The leader's eyes narrowed. "He's dangerous. Everyone, go all out!"
The battle intensified. Ronan weaved through attacks—dodging, blocking, striking back with deadly precision. Though outnumbered and outgunned, he fought like a ghost, slipping between blades and blasts with terrifying skill. His movements were fluid, his strikes surgical.
Bang. Bang. Crash.
Blood sprayed. Screams echoed. Ronan danced through the chaos, landing hits that crippled, dodging blows that should've been fatal. He was getting injured, yes—but far from defeated.
With a twist and a leap, Ronan deflected a massive axe using the knives he'd tossed into the air earlier. The impact stunned the wielder—exactly what Ronan needed. In a blink, he slashed through the man's wrist, severing it cleanly. A follow-up kick sent the screaming man flying into the others.
Still breathing heavily, Ronan stood firm, his clothes torn and blood dripping from his side—but his eyes, sharp as ever, focused.
One of the men—the slimmest—made Ronan wary. He wielded poison like a weapon, forming it into spears mid-air.
"What now, boss?" one of the uninjured asked, panic creeping in.
The leader's gaze lifted toward the central motor tower—the power source for the entire amusement park.
"We destroy the motor," he said coldly.
The others froze. "You're suggesting…?"
"Yes. He may be skilled—but not invincible. If the tower collapses, he dies."
"But the kids… they'll die too!"
"Shut up, fool! Do you know how much 100 million yen is? And there's an extra reward. Do you know what we can do with that?"
The second man hesitated, then nodded—greed clouding his judgment.
"But… what about us?" another asked nervously. "If that motor explodes, we're all dead!"
"Relax," the boss said with a smirk, pulling out a glowing orb. "This artifact's defense will protect us. We'll be fine."
Reassured, they resumed their assault.
Ronan charged forward—then froze.
They weren't aiming at him.
They were targeting the motor.
His eyes widened. If that thing blows…
Everyone would die. Even him.
But if he died now… Who would stop that monster?
Without thinking, he rushed in, blocking every attack aimed at the motor. Blast after blast struck him instead. His knives moved in a blur, intercepting every threat. But each impact took a toll. His strength faded, his vision blurred.
Still, he stood. Still, he fought.
Until his knees finally gave out.
Ronan collapsed, his body trembling. His face pale. Blood dripped from his lips as he looked up, locking eyes with the thin, mustached man. The bastard was smiling—but his forehead glistened with sweat.
What is this guy…? the man thought. I pumped enough poison into him to kill a dozen men. How is he still fighting? He's like a damn cockroach…
Barely able to breathe, Ronan glared at them with fading strength.
"You'd risk the lives of hundreds… just to kill me?" he said hoarsely. "You monsters…"
His voice was weak, but ice-cold.
"Monsters or not," the leader said, stepping forward, "our mission is complete."
He glanced at Ronan's shaking hands. The knives slipped from his grip.
"Finish him."
The one-handed man roared. Rage burned in his eyes as he lifted his massive battle axe. The memory of Ronan severing his hand still haunted him. Now, he would have revenge.
But just as he stepped forward—
"Inferno Vortex."
The calm voice came from nowhere.
The axe-wielder erupted into flames, screaming as fire engulfed him. He didn't even reach Ronan before collapsing, his charred body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
The remaining men froze.
"What the hell…?"
Footsteps echoed through the smoke.
A lone figure emerged from the shadows—white and black hair tousled by the wind, a long deep-blue coat flowing behind him. Hands in his pockets, eyes cold as steel. He walked past Ronan without a word and faced the stunned attackers.
"I agree with what the so-called criminal said," the newcomer said, nodding toward Ronan's broken form.
"He may be a wanted man… but at least he's still human."
He paused, then his voice dropped into a chilling tone.
"But you? You wear the title of 'hero'... yet all I see are monsters hiding behind it."
Han took a step closer, his aura growing darker.
"You don't deserve mercy. You deserve extinction."
To be continued…