Steve and I stood outside the residential block, waiting for King and his crew to show up. It was late, and most people were heading to the cafeteria for food.
As they walked past, I noticed how quiet they were. No chatter, no usual energy. Just heavy steps and tired faces, all of them still shaken by the news of Unit 77 getting wiped out.
I glanced at Steve.
He was beside me, hands in his pockets, looking way too casual for what we were about to do. There was even a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I elbowed him.
"Don't smile, idiot. Act like you're pissed."
He gave me a look, then sighed and forced a scowl onto his face. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
A few people were already nearby, hanging around in small groups. But it wasn't enough, not for the scene I wanted to cause.
So I reached down, unhooked my staff from my belt, and let my Essence flow into it. The metal extended with a smooth shhhk, growing to its full length as power surged through it.
Then I slammed it into the ground beside me.
Boom.
The impact cracked the stone and sent a small tremor through the area. Conversations stopped. Heads turned. Everyone stared.
I kept my face blank, eyes forward, not moving an inch. The staff hummed beside me, vibrating with pressure.
More people started to gather, drawn by the noise, curious and tense.
I waited.
Then I saw them, King Holt stepping out of the building, with only Michael Hightower at his side. No posse tonight.
As soon as they saw me and Steve standing there, King's body stiffened. His eyes locked onto mine, and I didn't look away. I let the pressure in the air tighten around him.
He knew.
And so did everyone else who had gathered around us that I was about to do something.
I took a step forward, staff in hand, and pointed it directly at King.
"You're from the Holt family," I said, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "So tell me, how does it feel knowing your people were involved in the massacre of Unit 77?"
Gasps echoed around us. Whispers flared up like sparks in dry grass. All eyes snapped to King, who stood frozen. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first.
Then he barked out a sharp laugh.
"You're insane," he said. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I tilted my head, walking slowly toward him.
"I'm talking about the Phantom. The abominations. The slaughter. You think it's coincidence they found Unit 77?
That they only went after them? I know that someone gave them that information. And I think that someone came from a certain 'noble' house with too many secrets and too many enemies."
Michael stepped forward, his face dark.
"That's a serious accusation, Ironhart. You better watch your—"
Crack.
Steve moved like a flash of lightning, his fist slamming straight into Michael's gut. The guy folded instantly, dropping to the ground with a gagged cough.
"I am watching it," Steve muttered, eyes cold.
King turned to him, startled, and that's when I moved.
One clean, brutal hit from the butt of my staff struck him in the side.
His body flipped midair, slamming into the wall of the block behind him. The crowd shouted in shock as his body flopped down to the ground.
King groaned, trying to rise, but I was already on him.
"You think this is over, King?" I growled, grabbing him by the collar. "You think hiding behind your family name will save you?"
He coughed, blood dripping from his lip, then gave me a twisted smirk.
"You're the one hiding, Ironhart. Hiding behind the Empire's skirt like a scared little boy."
His voice cracked but carried weight.
"You think that crest on your chest makes you powerful? You're nothing without them. Just another kid the Empire scooped up to throw at monsters."
I stared down at him, my grip tightening.
King sneered.
"The Holts... we don't need the Empire. We own the Empire. We are the true kings of this world. And when the time comes, you'll see just how little your rank means."
He swung a fist at me in panic, but I blocked it easily and drove my knee into his chest. The breath whooshed out of him. He collapsed again, coughing and choking.
"Then crawl like a king," I said coldly, towering over him. "And pray your little kingdom doesn't fall before mine rises."
Beside me, Steve was beating Michael without hesitation. The guy tried to summon some kind of defense spell, but Steve shattered it with his sword's hilt and sent him sprawling across the ground.
"Stop! Stop!" Michael yelled. "We didn't do anything!"
"Exactly!" Steve shouted back.
King tried to crawl away from me.
I stepped on his back and pressed down hard.
He gasped.
"I want the Holt family to hear this," I said, loud and clear. "I want every spy you've placed here to report what happened tonight. You thought we wouldn't notice your game? You thought we'd stay quiet like dogs?"
I drove my heel into his back harder, making him scream.
"You underestimated the wrong people."
King twisted beneath my foot, face scraping against the rough ground. I let him roll onto his back.
Then, slowly, I placed my foot on his face.
His eyes flared with hatred, but his body was broken, weak.
"Tell me, little prince," I whispered. "Do you still think you're above us?"
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Some with horror, others with something that looked like... agreement.
Then a voice rang out from the edge of the gathering.
"Stop this!" a young man from Unit 02 stepped forward, fists clenched. "You're going too far! You're blaming him without any proof. He is part of Unit 02."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A few people nodded. Others looked away, unsure.
I didn't respond. I just drove my heel harder into King's cheek, grinding his face into the dirt.
He groaned, blood mixing with soil.
"Proof?" I finally said, voice quiet but cold. "You want proof? Ninety-three bodies rotting in the mud. A massacre timed perfectly. And I am sure this guy knows what I am talking about."
I looked up, meeting the crowd's uncertain gazes.
"The Holt family has never been loyal to the Empire. You think they're just rich snobs? No. They fund mercenary groups, they buy silence, they manipulate from the shadows. And now, it's possible they've already joined hands with the enemies outside our borders."
I stepped off King's face slowly.
"But sure," I added, voice like ice. "Let's wait for proof. Maybe we'll find it in the next pile of corpses."
Steve walked over, blood still dripping from his knuckles, and stood beside me.
"If it weren't for his last name, he'd be scrubbing floors," he muttered, glaring down at King. "All that arrogance? It's borrowed power."
King coughed and spat at my boot. I didn't flinch.
I raised my staff and drove it into the ground beside his head.
The crack of impact was thunderous. He flinched.
Steve stepped forward.
In one swift movement, he grabbed King by the shoulders, pulling him upright and pinning his arms to his sides. King struggled weakly, his breathing labored, but Steve's grip was unyielding, holding him in place like a ragdoll.
I didn't hesitate. I moved in close, my hand gripping King's collar as I slammed my fist into his face.
The impact was brutal, as his head jerked to the side. Blood splattered from his nose, but I didn't stop there.
Before King could recover, I landed another punch, this time to his stomach.
He gasped, his breath leaving him in a ragged rush. His body trembled under the force, but Steve didn't let go, keeping him upright as my fist continued its assault.
King's face twisted with rage as he gasped for air, his voice hoarse. "I'll make you regret this," he spat, the words barely escaping his lips.
I grinned, leaning in closer. "No, you won't. You're too weak for that."