Chapter 25: The Birth of the Last Ronin
The Road Painted in Blood
Kim Han stood in the rain, staring at the bodies he left behind in the nightclub. The neon lights flickered, their colors mixing with the pools of blood spreading across the floor. The scent of iron filled the air, but he no longer noticed.
There was no hesitation. No regret.
A storm had been raging inside him since the night Daichi Sato murdered his family, and tonight, the world had finally begun to drown in its fury.
But there was still one man left.
Daichi Sato.
And Han would not stop until his sword tasted that man's throat.
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The Final Lead
Aya found him in an abandoned parking lot, leaning against his motorcycle, a cigarette between her fingers.
"You're making a mess," she muttered, blowing out smoke.
Han remained silent, his coat still stained with blood.
Aya sighed. "I know where Daichi is."
That got his attention. His black eyes met hers, cold and unreadable.
"Speak."
Aya hesitated, studying him. "You're not the same, Han. I can see it in your eyes. You've stopped being human."
"I was never human to begin with," he said flatly.
She shook her head. "You were. Before Daichi took everything from you, you were just a kid trying to live. But now…"
Han took a step forward, his voice like steel. "Tell me where he is."
Aya exhaled sharply, then handed him a slip of paper. "This is it. Daichi's location. But be careful—he's expecting you."
Han pocketed the paper without a word.
"You don't have to do this alone," Aya said. "Let me help."
He turned away. "This is my fight."
Aya cursed under her breath but didn't argue. She knew there was no stopping him now.
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The House of Wolves
The address led Han to a secluded Japanese manor on the outskirts of the city. Hidden behind towering walls and guarded by armed men, it was more fortress than home.
Daichi Sato had always lived like a king.
Tonight, he would die like a rat.
Han didn't bother sneaking in.
He walked right up to the front gate, sword in hand.
The guards spotted him immediately, raising their guns.
"That's him!" one of them shouted.
The slaughter began.
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The Art of Killing
Han moved like a shadow through the storm of bullets, weaving through the chaos.
A gunshot roared—he ducked, his sword flashing. A throat was sliced open.
A man lunged with a knife—Han twisted, severing the tendons in his wrist before driving his blade through his chest.
Another guard fired—a bullet grazed Han's arm, but he didn't stop. His sword sang through the air, carving through flesh, cutting down another life.
Within minutes, the courtyard was littered with corpses.
Han didn't blink.
He stepped over the bodies and entered the manor.
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The Throne Room
Daichi Sato was waiting for him.
Seated in a leather chair in the grand hall, dressed in his pristine white coat, he sipped a glass of whiskey as if this were just another business meeting.
Behind him, Miyuki Sato stood in silence—his daughter.
Han's grip on his sword tightened.
Daichi smirked. "You've made quite a mess, Kim Han."
Han stepped forward, rainwater dripping from his coat. "I'm here to finish what you started."
Daichi chuckled, setting his glass down. "I admire your dedication. But tell me—have you enjoyed your revenge?"
Han didn't answer.
Daichi leaned back, his red eyes gleaming. "You think this ends with me? That killing me will bring you peace?"
Han's voice was ice. "No. It won't. But it will make you suffer."
Daichi exhaled, then stood up, cracking his neck. "Very well."
He drew his sword.
"Let's end this."
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The Battle Begins
Daichi Sato was not just a criminal lord—he was a warrior.
His movements were flawless, his strikes precise.
Steel clashed against steel as Han met him head-on. Sparks flew with every blow.
Daichi was fast—but Han was faster.
Their swords danced in the dimly lit hall, cutting through furniture, slicing through the air like deadly whispers.
Daichi slashed—Han dodged, countering with a quick thrust.
Daichi barely avoided it, a small cut appearing on his cheek. He touched the wound and laughed.
"Good," he said. "You've grown stronger."
Han said nothing.
He just attacked again.
Their blades met in a brutal clash, both warriors pushing against each other, trying to gain the upper hand.
For the first time in years, Han felt something in his chest.
Not rage.
Not vengeance.
Just the thrill of the fight.
Daichi grinned. "This is what you were made for, Kim Han. You're just like me."
Han's eyes burned. "I am nothing like you."
With a roar, he struck harder, pushing Daichi back step by step.
The end was near.
And Kim Han was ready to finish it.
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