Rematch
"The hell happened here?!"
Sylara exhales, brushing dust off her shoulder. A smirk tugs at her lips as she waves a lazy hand toward the destruction.
"Just a friendly chat with my outside agent. Nothing to worry about."
Grido narrows his eyes, scanning the scene.
His instincts scream that something did happen. The lingering energy in the air is suffocating. The shattered floor. The splintered furniture. The cracked windows.
This wasn't a two-sided fight.
No—
The damage.
This was all from one side.
His gaze flickers to Akira. His expression unreadable. His body relaxed, yet his presence still heavy, like a predator that hasn't fully decided whether the hunt is over.
Grido exhales, crossing his arms.
"Did Akira attack Sylara?" His mind races, trying to piece it together.
"Why though?"
"But—if the Guildmaster says it's fine…"
He glances at Sylara once more. Her expression holds no alarm, no concern. Just mild amusement and something else—something deeper he can't quite grasp.
Grido sighs.
"I think they resolved it."
Turning to the other guild members, his voice is firm.
"Since the Guildmaster says it's fine, back down. Go to your works."
The tension lingers for a moment. Hesitation flickers in their eyes. But one by one, they begin to disperse.
Then—
A voice.
Loud. Arrogant. Furious.
"DID THIS LOWLY COMMONER BRAT ATTACK YOU, GUILDMASTER?!"
Captain Imzar.
His voice cuts through the air like a blade. His golden armor gleams under the dim office lights as he steps forward, his expression twisted in outrage.
"DID HE DARE TO RAISE HIS HAND AGAINST YOU?!"
"TELL ME, AND I WILL DESTROY HIM FOR GOOD THIS TIME!"
Sylara's eye twitches.
Her patience snaps.
"Enough, Imzar—"
But before she can finish—
A blur.
A shadow.
Akira appears in front of Imzar.
A hand—casual, effortless—lands on Imzar's shoulder.
A touch.
A vice grip.
Imzar flinches, his body stiffening instinctively.
Then—Akira speaks.
Low. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Come to the sparring room, cunt."
His voice is like ice. "I have unfinished business with you, too."
Silence.
Imzar's breath hitches.
Sylara's brows furrow, irritation flashing across her face.
"Akira, stop this."
"Now." Her voice is firm. A command.
For a moment, Akira doesn't move.
Then—he turns his head. Just slightly. Just enough for her to see his eyes.
Cold. Unforgiving.
"If you want me to trust you…" his voice is calm, but the weight behind it is suffocating.
"Leave him to me."
A pause.
Akira holds her gaze—unyielding.
Then—Sylara exhales, crossing her arms. Her violet eyes flicker with something unreadable.
Finally, she nods.
"Don't make me regret it."
Akira clicks his tongue, his smirk sharp and cruel.
"Come, trash."
His grip tightens on Imzar's shoulder before he releases it, turning away.
"Follow me you wanted to destroy me right?."
Imzar's face twists in fury, but his pride refuses to let him back down. He grits his teeth and storms after Akira.
Cha-Jong watches, his gut twisting with unease.
Akira's expression—that sharp glint in his eyes—
Something is wrong.
Without thinking, he steps forward, following them.
Grido watches as well, his instincts screaming at him.
This wasn't just a grudge match.
Something deeper was brewing.
With a heavy sigh, he follows, too.
Sylara stays behind. Her eyes lingering on the door as the three disappear.
The door shuts behind them.
A silence hangs in the air—thick, suffocating.
The dim lights cast long shadows across the training floor, the same place where Akira had once fought to prove himself worthy of the Outside Agent position. Back then, it had been a mere test. A formality.
But now?
This was no test.
This was punishment.
Cha-Jong and Grido follow closely behind, their expressions tense. Grido, ever the cautious one, orders the other Stars out.
"Sylara's orders. Leave the sparing room."
No one questions him.
The doors close.
Now, only their four remain.
Akira, standing still, like a predator watching its prey.Imzar, his fists clenched, his body taut with rage.Cha-Jong, unease written all over his face.Grido, arms crossed, eyes flickering between the two.
Then—Akira speaks.
But not to Imzar.
To Cha-Jong and Grido.
"If you interfere—"
A pause. A shift in the air.
He lifts his head, his gaze sharp as steel.
"—I'll turn on you too."
The words aren't loud. They don't need to be.
Grido stiffens. Cha-Jong swallows hard.
Neither of them dare to respond.
Then—silence.
Akira doesn't speak again.
Not a word.
Not a threat.
Just stillness.
A suffocating, dreadful stillness.
Then—
Imzar breaks it.
"You—"
His voice trembles. Rage. Frustration. Shame.
"You're the reason I made that mistake again!"
His body moves before his mind does—launching at Akira, fists raised.
A flash. A blur.
BAM!
A fist buries itself in Imzar's face.
A sickening crack.
His head snaps back as his body is sent flying.
He crashes into the ground—HARD.
Before he can even gasp—
Before he can breathe—
Akira is already there.
No time to think. No time to react.
A shadow looms over him.
And then—the assault begins.
A flurry of fists.
One after another. Relentless. Unstoppable.
BAM , BAM , BAM.
Flesh meeting flesh. Over and over. And over.
Too fast to count. Too fast to stop.
Imzar barely registers the pain.
Akira's voice cuts through it.
"I'm the reason you made a mistake?"
BAM.
"I'm the reason you killed your own party members???"
BAM. BAM.
"Or it's because of your greedy ass?"
Another crack. Blood splatters across the floor.
"I'm the one who wanted recognition?"
BAM.
"Or was it you?"
BAM.
Akira doesn't stops.
He keeps swinging. Keeps hitting.
Fist after fist. Merciless. Brutal. Unforgiving.
"I thought you changed."
BAM.
"I thought you would stop acting arrogant."
BAM.
"That you'd learn after they died for you."
BAM. BAM.
"But I guess—"
His teeth grit.
His fists tighten.
"Trash never changes."
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Imzar's face is barely recognizable now.
His eyes are swollen shut. His body limp. His breath ragged.
Yet—Akira doesn't stop.
He won't.
"HOW—"
BAM.
"DID YOU—"
BAM.
"SURVIVE—"
BAM.
"WHEN SOMEONE LIKE JIN AEL DIED FOR YOU?!"
BAM!
A final, devastating punch.
Imzar's head jerks back before slamming into the floor.
Blood pools beneath him.
Akira breathes in.
And then—
"STOP!"
Grido's voice roars through the room.
"You'll kill him!"
Silence.
Akira's fist is still raised.
His dark eyes flick up—locking onto Grido.
For a moment, the air turns cold.
For a moment, Grido feels it.
Akira doesn't say anything.
Doesn't need to.
Because in that moment, Grido understands.
Akira was willing to
He exhales. A single, sharp breath.
And then—he lowers his fist.
Turns back to Imzar.
His voice, cold. Final.
"Never get in my way again."
A pause.
"When you see me—"
His foot presses against Imzar's broken body.
"Lower your eyes."
Another pause.
"And never—never—be arrogant again trash."
A final, devastating blow.
BAM.
Imzar doesn't move.
He doesn't even twitch.
Fainted. Broken.
Akira exhales.
His chest rises, falls.
Then—his thoughts drift.
A memory.
Jin Ael.
His last moments.
His final words.
"Kick Imzar ass for me."
Akira clenches his fists.
"I kept my promise, Jin."
"But…"
His gaze darkens.
"Yeah.I took it a little personally, too."
His body relaxes.
His rage settles.
"I'm going now."
His voice is quiet. Empty.
He turns. Cha-Jong watches him carefully.
"I expect you at the house today."
Akira pauses.
Sees the sincerity in his face.
And, for the first time in a while, he exhales.
"I will."
Then, a smirk.
"But I have some work to do first."
Cha-Jong sighs. "Fine."
The moment Akira steps out, the tension in the room finally releases—like a dam breaking after barely holding back a flood.
Grido doesn't hesitate. He's already moving.
"Call the healer—NOW."
His voice is sharp, urgent. He pulls a small communication device from his pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he activates it.
"We need a healer in the sparring room immediately. Priority case. Severe trauma. Possible skull fractures. Hurry."
He kneels beside Imzar, pressing two fingers against his neck. His pulse is weak—faint, but still there.
Blood drips onto the floor. The scent of iron hangs heavy in the air.Cha-Jong exhales and crouches beside him. His usual relaxed demeanor is gone.
"Shit," he mutters, pulling out a cloth and pressing it against Imzar's head wound. "He really did a number on him."
Grido glances at the door where Akira just left. His jaw tightens
"No."
"He showed restraint."
Cha-Jong scoffs. "Restraint? His face is barely recognizable, Grido."
Grido shakes his head. "If Akira wanted to kill him, the current akira he would've. Easily. This? This was just a warning."
Silence.
Cha-Jong watches Imzar's unconscious form. His breath is ragged, his body twitching slightly as if reliving the fight in his dreams.A few seconds later, hurried footsteps echo outside.
The door swings open.
A woman in a white and gold uniform rushes in—Lirin, one of the Guild's top healers. Her eyes widen at the sight of Imzar, and she immediately moves into action.
She kneels, placing her glowing hands over his injuries. But the damage is severe.
"He's stable," she says after a few moments, but her voice is grim. "But I don't know how long it'll take for him to fully recover. His injuries—" She exhales sharply. "
Grido sighs, running a hand through his hair. His usual composure is cracked.
"Do you think it was too much?" Cha-Jong finally asks. His voice isn't accusing—just curious.
Grido stares at Imzar's battered face. He doesn't answer right away.
Then—his shoulders slump slightly.
"No," he says.
"He deserved it."
Cha-Jong raises a brow.
"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"
Grido shakes his head.
"His party died because of him. His arrogance, his greed—it got his entire party killed. And now, after all that, he still hasn't changed."
His eyes darken.
"He should be lucky to be alive, ( End of Chapter 73 )