The guard who rushed toward Yuya swung his blade with a roar, muscles tense, confidence blazing in his eyes.
Yuya was already gone.
The sword carved through empty air, the momentum pulling the guard a step forward. Confusion flickered across his face—just for a fraction of a second.
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
The guard stiffened.
Yuya leaned in close, breath brushing against the man's ear as he brutally twisted his head sideways, forcing their eyes to meet. Yuya's smile stretched far too wide, teeth bared, eyes alight with pure, feral excitement.
"Oh??" Yuya chirped, voice bubbling with delight.
"Were you talking to me? Heheehe!"
The guard barely had time to scream.
There was a sharp crack—dry, absolute.
The sound echoed across the courtyard.
The man's neck twisted at an angle no living thing could survive. His body collapsed instantly, hitting the stone floor like a discarded sack of meat.
For half a second—
Silence.
No shouting.
No laughter.
No bravado.
The Pale Orchard guards stared.
The laughter died instantly.
Yuya straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as if loosening stiff muscles. His grin faded—not into seriousness, but into something worse.
Anticipation.
"Ahh…" he sighed contentedly.
And then—
He stopped holding back.
Yuya exploded forward.
The stone beneath his feet cracked as he launched himself into the mass of guards. One man barely managed to raise his shield before Yuya grabbed him by the chest plate and lifted him clean off the ground.
The guard screamed.
Yuya slammed him down.
Straight into the stone.
The impact was violent enough to fracture the courtyard floor, spiderweb cracks exploding outward as the guard's body folded in on itself. Blood sprayed up in a wide arc, splattering across nearby armor.
Yuya didn't even look down.
Another guard lunged from the side, blade flashing.
Yuya caught him mid-swing.
Hands closed around the man's torso.
With a savage twist and a brutal pull—
The guard was torn away like paper.
Armor split. Flesh ripped. The body came apart with a wet, tearing sound that made several nearby guards gag. One half of the corpse hit the ground first. The other followed a heartbeat later.
A third charged, screaming, eyes wild with panic.
Yuya stepped in calmly.
He punched once.
Just once.
The man's chest caved inward with a dull, sickening thud. His feet left the ground. When he landed, he didn't move.
Blood splashed across the stones, pooling between broken bodies and discarded weapons.
That was when Mitsuki started laughing.
Not loud.
Not wild.
Delighted.
She stood a few steps behind Yuya, head tilted slightly, lips curved in a smile that didn't belong on a battlefield. Her fingers moved delicately, almost lazily.
Silver threads flashed from her hands.
Thin.
Almost invisible.
A guard took one step forward—
And his head slid cleanly off his shoulders.
Another turned to run—
His body split apart mid-step, upper half collapsing forward while his legs kept moving for another second before crumpling.
The threads danced.
Mitsuki spun lightly, almost playfully, as if twirling in a ballroom rather than standing in a killing field. Cards flicked from between her fingers, spinning end over end.
Each one whispered through the air.
Each one found a throat.
Guards dropped in silence, hands clutching at fountains of blood that poured between their fingers. Some tried to scream. None succeeded.
"Aaaaah~" Mitsuki sighed happily, stepping over a corpse as though it were nothing more than a puddle.
"This is fun."
She glanced toward Yuya, eyes glinting with heat and mischief.
"Yuya!" she called out cheerfully, voice carrying clearly over the screams and dying gasps.
"I'm getting h*rny, I want you to f*ck me until morning without a break."
Yuya laughed loudly, snapping a guard's arm backward until it broke before throwing the screaming man into another group.
"Save it for later!" he shouted back. "I'm busy!"
Akari stepped forward.
Her movements were small. Precise. Economical.
A syringe flicked from between her fingers.
One man collapsed mid-run, legs giving out as his nervous system shut down.
Another stiffened, eyes glassy, and fell backward without a sound.
A third managed two steps before grabbing at his neck, pupils dilating in terror—then he dropped, twitching violently before going still.
Akari didn't look at any of them.
She threw another syringe.
Then another.
Each one found its mark.
"Hey," Akari said flatly, glancing toward Yuya and Mitsuki without turning her head.
"Be serious a little bit."
Yuya cackled.
Mitsuki giggled.
Then—
Hiroshi began walking.
He didn't rush.
He didn't sprint.
He simply walked forward through the chaos.
Knives appeared in his hands as if summoned by thought alone.
Anyone who approached him simply fell.
One guard tried to flank him—
A blade slid between his ribs.
One stab.
Another rushed from the front—
A second knife took him under the jaw.
Two.
Always clean.
Always fatal.
No wasted movement.
No expression.
Hiroshi didn't chase. He didn't roar. He didn't react.
He advanced.
And the Pale Orchard guards broke.
Confidence shattered.
Formations collapsed.
Weapons slipped from shaking hands.
These weren't intruders.
These were executioners.
Some guards tried to retreat. Others froze in place, eyes wide, bodies refusing to move.
Yuya tore through them like a living weapon, laughing as bones snapped and bodies flew. Mitsuki danced between corpses, silver threads weaving a massacre. Akari methodically erased anyone foolish enough to approach. Hiroshi walked through the carnage like death itself, leaving a trail of fallen bodies behind him.
The Pale Orchard finally understood.
These people were never serious.
The Elites rushed out.
Not like the others.
They didn't shout.
They didn't taunt.
They didn't hesitate.
They moved together—six of them—spreading out in a clean formation, weapons already drawn, killing intent focused and sharp. Their steps were synchronized, breaths controlled. They weren't guards.
They were the Pale Orchard's real blades.
Hiroshi stopped walking.
Just stopped.
The battlefield noise faded around him—not because it was gone, but because it no longer mattered.
He reached behind his back.
Steel slid free.
Honekiri Ryujin was drawn.
The blade hummed.
A low, predatory vibration—like something ancient recognizing that it was finally being used for what it was made for.
The nearest elite felt it.
His pupils shrank.
Hiroshi stepped forward.
One step.
One slash.
The motion was almost gentle.
The elite's head separated cleanly from his shoulders, spinning once in the air before landing with a wet thud several meters away. The body took two more steps before collapsing.
Hiroshi didn't pause.
Second step.
Another elite lunged in from the side, blade flashing toward Hiroshi's ribs.
Too slow.
Hiroshi pivoted, blade drawing a shallow arc through the air.
The elite froze mid-motion.
A thin red line appeared across his neck.
Then his head slid forward and fell.
The body followed.
Yuya appeared beside Hiroshi in a blur of motion, laughing like a child let loose in a playground.
"HAHA—!"
He grabbed one elite by the skull with both hands.
The man screamed.
Yuya squeezed.
Bone cracked.
Then tore.
With a violent pull, Yuya ripped the elite apart, blood spraying across his arms and chest as the body came apart in his hands.
"Oops," Yuya said cheerfully, tossing the remains aside.
The remaining elites faltered.
Just for a heartbeat.
That was enough.
Akari's syringes dropped two of them instantly—one convulsing, the other collapsing without even understanding he was dying. Mitsuki's silver threads cut through the last elite's joints, dropping him to the ground in pieces before he could retreat.
Silence returned.
But this time—
It was panic.
Weapons clattered to the ground.
Remaining guards turned and ran, abandoning positions, screaming, tripping over corpses, desperate to escape anything that wasn't this place.
Then—
The air shifted.
Pressure pressed down on the battlefield like a hand on the throat.
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the courtyard.
Slow.
Measured.
Selene Ashcroft stepped forward.
Her presence alone forced the remaining guards to stop running, as if something heavier than fear had taken hold. Her ash-pink hair swayed slightly as she moved, eyes cold, calculating, furious.
She didn't speak.
She attacked instantly.
The ground cracked beneath her feet as she launched forward, energy surging around her like a coiled storm, strike aimed straight for Hiroshi's chest—
Mitsuki appeared between them as if she had always been there.
Selene barely had time to widen her eyes.
Mitsuki caught her mid-attack and slammed her into the ground with overwhelming force. Stone shattered beneath Selene's body as she hit, the impact sending shockwaves through the courtyard.
Selene tried to move.
She couldn't.
Mitsuki pinned her effortlessly, one foot planted on her chest, silver threads wrapping around Selene's limbs and neck in an instant.
There was no real fight.
Only domination.
Mitsuki raised her hand, smile bright, almost playful.
"Aww," she cooed sweetly.
"You're done already?"
She was about to bring her hand down—
"Stop."
The voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Everything froze.
Mitsuki paused mid-motion.
Yuya and Hiroshi turned their heads.
Shin stepped forward from the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, hands in his pockets, expression calm—almost amused.
Mitsuki tilted her head, silver threads loosening slightly.
"What happened, Shin-chan?" she asked lightly.
Shin looked down at Selene, then back up at Mitsuki.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I want something from her."
Shin didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
"Mitsuki-sama, " he said calmly, eyes never leaving Selene. "Seal her power."
He turned his head toward Hiroshi, expression flat.
"Old man," he said lazily, "it took you long enough."
Hiroshi didn't respond.
Shin continued anyway, tone sharp with mock disappointment.
"You took this much time just to deal with a small clan like this. Guess Squad C has gotten weak and old."
He shrugged.
"That means I have no use for you in my plan."
From behind him, Mitsuki spoke, eyebrow twitching.
"I've sealed her power," she said. "And kiddo— you haven't even entered the power hierarchy yet, and you're already calling us one of the strongest humans weak?"
Shin waved a hand dismissively.
"Yeah, yeah," he replied casually. "Whatever. That just sounds like an excuse."
Yuya crossed his arms, grin fading slightly.
"I wanna know something," he said. "Why did you let yourself get kidnapped?"
Shin glanced back at him.
Then smiled.
"I was bored," he said simply.
"And I wanted to see some action."
Yuya burst out laughing.
"HAHA—! Figures."
With Selene restrained, they moved deeper into the compound.
They moved inside the mansion.
The air smelled of blood and dust.
In one of the inner rooms, Hinata sat on the floor with Shiro curled tightly around her, his body pressed protectively against hers.
Akari rushed forward instantly.
"Hina—!"
She dropped to her knees and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace, hands trembling just slightly as she checked her over.
"I'm okay, Mom," Hinata said softly. "Shin-nii told Shiro not to fight."
Akari closed her eyes for a brief moment, holding her tighter.
Shin looked away.
Satisfied.
He turned back to Selene.
"Take me to your room," he said flatly.
Selene didn't resist.
She stood slowly, bound and powerless, and began walking.
Shin followed.
Selene's room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The damage outside hadn't reached here yet — the walls were intact, the lights steady, the bed untouched. It felt wrong, like the calm after something already dead.
Selene sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, hands clenched in her lap.
Shin stood a few steps away, arms relaxed, expression unreadable.
He looked around once.
Then back at her.
"So," he said calmly.
"See? You lost."
Selene didn't answer.
Her jaw trembled.
"…Say something," Shin added. "Yell. Threaten me. That's what people like you usually do."
Still nothing.
Her breathing broke instead.
Tears slipped down before she could stop them.
Her shoulders shook.
Shin froze.
"…Huh?"
She covered her face with both hands, voice breaking completely.
"I lost everything," Selene said, words coming apart.
"I built this myself. Every connection. Every resource. Every sacrifice."
Her voice cracked.
"And it's all gone in one night."
Shin scratched the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable.
"…I didn't even touch most of it," he muttered. "That was them."
She laughed weakly through tears.
"That doesn't make it better."
Shin clicked his tongue.
"Crying won't bring it back."
The words were blunt. Too blunt.
Selene flinched.
Shin paused.
"…But," he added after a moment, quieter,
"it also doesn't mean you're finished."
She looked up at him for the first time.
Red eyes. Anger buried under exhaustion.
"You think I can just start again?" she asked bitterly.
Shin walked closer and sat down beside her — not touching, but close enough that their shoulders almost met.
"You didn't inherit Pale Orchard," he said.
"You rebuilt it."
She stiffened.
"You did it alone. With garbage people and broken resources."
He glanced at her.
"That's not weakness."
Silence stretched.
Selene's breathing slowly steadied.
"…Then why give me a choice?" she asked quietly.
"Why not just kill me?"
Shin leaned back slightly.
"Because killing you is easy."
He looked at her directly.
"Using someone who already knows how to build something from nothing is smarter."
She let out a shaky breath.
"…So I become your pawn."
"If you want to call it that," Shin said.
"But I won't force you."
She laughed again — this time softer.
"That's funny," she said. "Coming from you."
Shin shrugged.
"Obedience only works when it's chosen."
Selene wiped her face with her sleeve, clearly trying to regain control.
She sat straighter.
"…If I agree," she said slowly, "I don't kneel because I'm broken."
Shin nodded once.
"Good. Kneeling out of fear is boring."
She looked at him, searching.
"…You're not normal," she said.
"I get that a lot."
Another silence.
This one wasn't heavy.
Shin stood up, then hesitated, and knelt in front of her instead.
Selene tensed instinctively.
He pulled a napkin from his pocket.
"Hold still," he said.
He gently wiped the dirt and dried tear marks from her face — careful, awkward, clearly not used to this.
"You're a mess," he muttered. "That won't do."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't pull away.
"You're going to be standing beside me," Shin continued casually.
"Act like it."
He pulled back and stood.
"And stop showing cleavage to random men," he added flatly.
"I don't like that."
Selene blinked.
"…That's your concern right now?"
"Yes."
She stared at him for a second.
Then laughed — quietly, genuinely.
"…Fine."
She stood up.
"Lead the way," she said.
Shin turned toward the door.
"Good choice."
They left the room together.
No chains.
No orders.
Just an unspoken agreement.