Nobu and Beru finally traced the criminals to their hideout.
At the entrance stood two men—clearly the leaders—backed by twenty armed fighters. The moment Nobu and Beru stepped forward, killing intent flooded the air.
There were no warnings.
The battle exploded.
The twenty fighters rushed in together.
They didn't stand a chance.
Blades flashed like lightning. Bodies fell like dry leaves caught in a storm. Within moments, the ground was soaked in blood.
Only the two leaders remained.
They moved differently.
Sharp. Calculated. Deadly.
True martial artists.
Steel clashed as Nobu and Beru fought with everything they had. For the first time in years, they were pushed back.
Then—
A brutal strike landed.
Beru's arm snapped with a sickening crack.
Pain tore through his body, but Beru didn't scream.
He didn't fall.
Nobu's eyes darkened.
"Beru," he said coldly.
"Swords."
Steel rang.
In an instant, the fight ended.
Both leaders collapsed—headless—blood painting the floor crimson. Nobu calmly took a photo of their severed necks.
Proof.
One fighter had been left alive.
Trembling, the man staggered forward and handed Nobu a small, rusted key.
"A… a basement," he whispered.
They opened the underground door.
And froze.
Fifty beggar boys huddled together, skin and bones, eyes empty. In the corner, five teenage girls trembled in terror.
The girls screamed and ran the moment the door opened—freedom at last.
The boys stayed behind.
They had nowhere to go.
Nobu clenched his fists.
"We're taking responsibility for them," he said quietly.
"From now on… they belong to us."
Beru nodded.
From that day forward, Nobu spent his own money feeding the children and protecting them.
They were no longer alone.
A Past That Was Already Dead
After settling the children, Nobu felt something stir inside him.
He wanted answers.
He asked the mafia's right-hand man for his stepmother's address.
When Nobu and Beru arrived, the house was empty.
Silent.
Dust covered everything.
Nobu waited for hours, believing she had only stepped out.
She never returned.
As they were leaving, an old woman from the neighborhood stopped them.
"The woman who lived here…" she said softly.
"She died long ago."
Nobu froze.
No tears fell.
No words came.
Beru placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't lose yourself," Beru said quietly.
"We never had a family to begin with. Don't break for people who are already gone."
Later, the mafia confirmed the truth.
Those people were never Nobu's real parents.
Nobu accepted it in silence.
His past was gone.
Only the family he had built remained.
The Wolves Are Born
Nobu requested funds from the mafia.
They granted him ten million dollars.
With it, Nobu and Beru returned to their village, bought a massive mansion, and brought all the children there.
The boys cried with happiness.
They called Nobu Big Brother.
Beru crossed his arms.
"The world doesn't spare the weak," he said.
"We train them."
Nobu nodded.
"Then we'll make them strong."
Ten Years Later
Time changed everything.
Nobu and Beru became feared names in the underworld.
The boys they saved grew into warriors—loyal, disciplined, unbreakable.
Nobu formed a gang and named it—
Wolves.
The mafia was thrilled.
With the Wolves rising, they believed world domination was inevitable.
But Nobu wasn't blind.
"We need our own money," he told Beru.
"We can't rely on the mafia forever."
He asked the mafia for funds one final time.
Then he and Beru started their own hidden drug operation—careful, precise, invisible.
One mistake meant prison.
But they succeeded.
Money flooded in.
They bought advanced training equipment.
Their power grew.
Their influence spread.
And through mafia channels, they learned of powerful clans.
Targets.
Enemies.
The Wolves were ready.
A new era had begun.