The morning mist still hung low over the training yard, clinging to the ground as if reluctant to leave. Einar's shirt was soaked through with sweat, his chest heaving, arms trembling from the punishment Dean called "warm-up."
If this was warm-up, Einar didn't want to know what "serious training" meant.
Dean casually stretched, not a single drop of sweat on him.
Not. One. Drop.
"Again," Dean ordered.
Einar groaned.
"Sensei… I think my soul already left my body."
Dean shrugged.
"Then train without it."
"That's not— HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO FIGHT WITHOUT A SOUL?!"
Dean raised a brow.
"You're still talking, so clearly something is left."
Einar muttered something very impolite under his breath.
But then… Dean's expression changed.
It wasn't dramatic.
He didn't gasp or shout.
He simply… shifted.
His eyes sharpened, shoulders relaxed, posture lowering just slightly—subtle changes, but enough to make Einar's instincts scream.
Dean was sensing something.
Einar straightened.
"Sensei?"
Dean didn't respond.
He tilted his head, as if listening to something far away.
The forest around them fell into an eerie stillness.
Not a branch moved.
Not a bird chirped.
Einar felt it too—pressure. A presence.
Or more accurately—
Several presences.
Dean whispered:
"Four… no, five. They've been watching since before sunrise."
Einar's heart pounded.
"Who?"
"People with bad intentions. Obviously."
That was not helpful.
Before Einar could speak again, a voice rose from the treeline.
"Well, finally. The kid noticed."
Five figures stepped out from between the trees. Dark clothes. Concealed weapons. Cold eyes.
The Tigers.
Einar's muscles tightened.
The leader smirked when he saw him.
"So you're the brat Rita protects like a pet."
Einar glared.
"I'm not her pet OR her kid!"
Another Tiger laughed.
"Close enough."
Dean stood silently behind Einar, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
The Tigers didn't even glance at him.
To them, he looked like just some old guy supervising training.
The leader cracked his knuckles and walked forward.
"We're here for you, boy."
Einar swallowed hard.
Dean whispered, barely audible:
"Einar."
Einar looked back.
Dean's eyes were serious, colder than Einar had ever seen.
"This is your first taste of a real gang war."
Einar froze.
"S-Sensei… are you going to help?"
Dean stepped back.
Into the shadows.
"No. I won't interfere."
Einar's face drained of color.
"WHAT?!"
Dean's voice was calm, but heavy.
"You need to understand what you're stepping into. I'll observe. Nothing more."
He blended into the treeline almost instantly, becoming little more than a silhouette.
The Tigers laughed.
"Your trainer just abandoned you, kid."
Einar gritted his teeth.
"He didn't abandon me… he just has a questionable teaching style."
The leader pointed a knife at him.
"This'll be quick."
Einar raised his fists.
"Fine… come on."
They lunged at him.
And the fight exploded.
Einar dodged the first strike, blocked a kick with his forearms, and countered with a punch that actually staggered one attacker.
Another swung at him with a metal baton—Einar ducked, sweat flying from his hair.
He was surviving.
Barely.
But then—
One of the Tigers turned his attention toward the tree line.
Toward Dean.
The man whispered:
"What's that old guy even—?"
He pulled a knife.
And charged straight at Dean's shadow.
Einar's blood turned to ice.
"HEY—DON'T GO NEAR HIM—"
Too late.
The attacker stabbed where Dean stood.
Except Dean wasn't there.
He appeared behind the man, silent as smoke.
The Tiger froze, knife still extended in the air.
Dean tapped his shoulder.
"You shouldn't have done that."
The man turned slowly… and when he saw Dean's face clearly—
His expression shattered.
His pupils shrank.
His breathing hitched.
His knees buckled.
He whispered in terror:
"…N-No… it can't be… him."
The other Tigers looked confused.
Dean raised one eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, did you… recognize me?"
The man nodded violently—fear soaking every inch of his face.
He stumbled backward, stuttering.
"Y-You're… the Ghost of Division Zero… the Shadow Unit Commander… the UN's—"
Dean placed a finger over the man's lips.
"Shh."
He smiled pleasantly.
"I don't need a dramatic introduction."
Einar's jaw dropped.
"…Sensei… WHAT ARE YOU?!"
Dean ignored him completely.
The remaining Tigers finally understood the situation.
And panic rippled through them.
"That's HIM?!"
"Why is he HERE?!"
"This wasn't in the intel!"
The leader pointed a trembling finger at Einar.
"He—He's the one protecting the kid?!"
Dean corrected him.
"No. Today I'm not protecting him."
He gave Einar a sideways glance.
"He has to taste the fear himself."
Einar swallowed hard.
Dean stepped back again, fully returning to the shadows, arms crossed.
"Continue your fight."
The Tigers looked sick.
Einar looked terrified.
But something inside him sparked—
A stubborn flame.
He raised his fists again.
"I guess… this is really happening."
The Tigers attacked.
And Einar fought with everything he had.
Dean watched silently.
Not interfering.
Not helping.
Just evaluating—
Like a cold judge deciding whether Einar belonged in this bloody world or not.
But when the fight escalated—when one Tiger pulled a hidden blade and went for Einar's throat—
Dean stepped forward.
And the temperature of the world dropped.
He whispered:
"That's enough."