The air in the grand King's Hall was thick with tension. John turned to leave, but the king's voice, a muttered insult, stopped him in his tracks.
"Lowlife. Why did Genta send me a street rat like him?"
In a flash, John was behind him, a short blade pressed against the king's trembling throat.
"What did you just say, my king?" His voice was cold, sharp as the steel at the king's skin.
The king's voice wavered, yet he forced arrogance into his words. "W-what do you think you're doing, you street runt? Take your filthy hands off me, you lowlife!"
John's irritation bled into his tone. "Shut up, you stupid royal."
The king's breath hitched. "W-what did you just say?"
John's eyes burned with fury. "I said, stupid royal. Don't get me wrong, my king. I'm not here for your acceptance, and I'm definitely not here to play your stupid games. I came for what was promised—payment for my work, and the power-up Genta said he would grant me. That's all. Do you understand?"
The king's face twisted with rage, though fear still crept beneath his skin. "You bastard! How dare you put a knife to my throat! I am the king of Sirocaan! With a single order, my soldiers and the village speaker will see to it that you never leave this kingdom alive. Now, take your filthy hands off me!"
John let out a slow breath, then mockingly removed his blade. He stepped in front of the king, his expression twisted into exaggerated fear.
"Oooooo, my king! I apologize for my disrespect! Please, please spare my life! I will live as your slave for all eternity! Please, have mercy!" He clasped his hands together, feigning desperation.
The king felt a wave of relief wash over him. So, he fears death after all. Such a lowlife.
With newfound confidence, he straightened. "If you plead for your life, then I will let—"
Before the king could finish, John's hand shot out, seizing his throat. With terrifying strength, he pinned the king to his grand throne, squeezing just enough to cut off his words.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," John snarled, his face inches from the king's. "You... letting me live? Hah. Do you think I got scared after hearing about your so-called power? Don't make me laugh."
John suddenly burst into chilling laughter, the sound reverberating through the hall like the echoes of death itself. The king struggled, gasping as he tried to pry John's fingers from his throat, but it was futile.
Then, John's voice dropped to a whisper, his tone deadly. "Let me tell you a little story, my king."
The king's body went rigid as John continued. "There was once a six-year-old boy. Poor. So poor that he couldn't afford a piece of bread. He survived on the scraps left by the rich. His mother was ill, slowly dying, while his father..." John's grip tightened slightly. "His father was worthless. A daily laborer who wasted his wages on gambling and whores, never once caring for his own family. The mother, sick and helpless, died because of his neglect. And after her death, the father turned to thievery. Even while working, he stole from others, taking whatever he wanted. One day, his employer found out. They tried to turn him in, but he ran. He ran, dragging the boy with him, forcing him into a life of fear."
The king's breaths were shallow, his forehead slick with sweat, but John wasn't finished.
"That man killed, stole, and in the end, justified it all with one sentence: I did this for you. You're alive because of me. But the boy knew better. You did it for yourself. You did it to satisfy your greed, your thirst. If it was for me, then why not before?" John's grip trembled with rage. "That boy had enough. One night, while his father slept, he drove a blade into his heart."
Silence.
The king's eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned on him. John leaned in closer, his voice a whisper of death.
"That boy was me. I killed my father."
A chill ran down the king's spine. Sweat poured from his temples like a broken dam. His body trembled, fear gripping him harder than John's hands ever could.
John's voice darkened. "Now, my king... what were you saying earlier? That you would let me live? Listen well. I live because of me. Not because of anyone's mercy."
The king could only stare, his lips quivering. But John wasn't done.
"You called me ugly. A lowlife." His boot pressed against the king's leg, applying just enough pressure to make him whimper. "The weak are beautiful. The ugly are those who prey on the weak. And yet here I stand, a so-called 'ugly lowlife,' with my foot on your leg and my hand around your throat. Tell me, my king—what does that make you?"
The king could only nod, his head jerking in terror.
John let go, stepping back as the king gasped for air, clutching his throat like a lifeline.
A slow smirk spread across John's face. "Well then, if you'll excuse me, Your Majesty, I have work to do. Have a nice day."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the king frozen in his throne, watching him go with eyes filled with raw, unfiltered fear.
MEANWHILE,
he open field stretched wide before them as Hataki and the squad prepared for their journey toward the second village Kaminosato. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, but the urgency of their mission pressed upon them.
Hataki turned to the group and announced with authority, "Everyone, it will take us about 6 hours on foot to reach the village. Let's get moving."
With a renewed sense of energy, the squad set out, their footsteps rhythmic against the earth. As they walked, Yushin fell into step beside Yoto, her eyes drifting toward Yoto's wrapped hand. A flicker of concern crossed her face before she finally spoke up.
"Yoto, is your hand... is your injury better now?"
Yoto, keeping his expression unreadable, responded , "Yes, Yushin. It's healed—good as new."
A quiet sigh of relief escaped Yushin's lips. "Thank goodness," she muttered under her breath.
Yoto glanced at her, catching the faint words. "Did you say something, Yushin?"
Yushin quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing."
"Oh... alright then," Yoto replied, letting it slide.
Not far ahead, Eiji's voice rang out, filled with boundless energy. "Akemi! Akemi! What are you doing?"
Akemi, visibly irritated, shot him a sharp look. "Oh, Eiji, don't ask such silly questions. I don't have time for your games. We need to save Hayato as soon as possible."
Eiji stopped in his tracks for a moment, his usually lively demeanor dimming as her words settled in. A shadow of disappointment crossed his face, but his spirit refused to waver. Regaining his energy, he quickened his pace to catch up with her again, though she continued to give him the cold shoulder.
Walking a little behind them, Yoto observed the interaction with mild amusement. Watching Eiji desperately try to brighten Akemi's mood only to have her brush him off so coldly made Yoto smirk to himself. Eiji really doesn't give up, does he? Even if all he's doing is making her angrier… that Romeo.
A quiet chuckle escaped Yoto's lips.
Yushin, walking beside him, caught the moment and turned to him in surprise. "Oh? You laughed, Yoto."
Yoto raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"
Yushin smiled. "I haven't seen you smile in months."
Yoto's expression quickly returned to its usual neutrality. "You're imagining things, Yushin. I'm just being me."
Before Yushin could respond, an energetic voice interrupted them. "Helloooo, my twin! What are you doing? Did you feel lonely without me? Tell me, tell me!"
Nishi appeared beside Yoto with an exaggerated display of excitement, clasping his hands together like an eager child.
Without missing a beat, Yoto replied flatly, "No, I didn't miss you at all, Nishi."
Nishi pouted dramatically. "Ooooooh, I seeeee! Of course, you wouldn't feel lonely when you're busy talking to her, right? My bad!"
At Nishi's teasing remark, Yushin's face instantly turned red.
Yoto shot Nishi a sharp look. "Oi, don't say nonsense and put weird ideas in people's heads. I was just thinking about how to get Hayato back."
Nishi grinned, unbothered. "No worries, no worries, my twin! We will bring him back, right?"
Yoto found himself softening at Nishi's unshaken optimism. A small smile formed on his lips as he nodded. "Yeah, we will."
Nishi, always bursting with energy, continued talking. "You know, I really want to fight someone strong again. When I fought that cat guy, I felt alive! I want to face that kind of enemy again!" Then, as if a sudden thought struck him, he turned to Yoto with an exaggerated pleading expression. "By the way, why don't you call me 'brother'? We look alike, don't we?"
Yoto didn't even hesitate. "No."
"Aaaaaaa, why not?!" Nishi whined. "It's not that big a deal! We look alike, right? Just call me 'brother' once!"
Yoto remained unmoved. "Not happening."
Nishi crossed his arms, still refusing to give up. "But you called Hayato 'brother' before! Why him and not me?!"
Yoto shot him a deadpan look. "Because I refuse to compare Hayato's brain to that of a parasite."
"DON'T CALL ME A PARASITE!" Nishi fumed, his voice echoing across the open field.
Their banter continued until the group finally reached the outskirts of the second village Kaminosato. Hataki took the lead, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "We've arrived. This is the second village Kaminosato. Once we cross through here, we'll be one step closer to the castle. Stay alert."
Just as the squad prepared to move forward, Yoto's gaze locked onto the scene unfolding in the village ahead. His body stiffened, his hands clenching into fists.
His voice came out sharp, filled with rising anger. "What the hell is happening in the village?!"