Your_bookguy

I never thought my world would change so quickly. Five years ago I didn't have a purpose in life till I met him, Keitaro. Now there is no world to have a purpose in. Did I make a mistake to follow him?

Japan vs USA

Times Square, 11:58 PM

"Welcome to the biggest party of the decade!"

An influencer spun in front of her phone, neon lights flashing behind her. The crowd behind her was alive—people dancing, laughing, and capturing the night on their phones.

All around, Times Square pulsed with energy. Loud music, street performers, flashing billboards—everything felt electric.

People flinched, but no one reacted much. Maybe it was part of the event? A sound effect from the speakers?

A man stumbled. Blood spread across his chest. His phone slipped from his fingers, landing on the pavement.

For a moment, the music kept playing. The lights still flashed.

An explosion ripped through a building. Glass shattered, flames shot into the sky, and the force of the blast knocked people off their feet.

Phones that had been recording joy were now livestreaming terror.

Keitaro walked through the chaos, calm as ever.

Dressed in black tactical gear, his face concealed beneath a mask, he moved with purpose.

Around him, masked figures spread through the square, blending into the smoke and panic.

They weren't here to kill.

They were here to destroy.

Keitaro spoke into his earpiece. "No civilian deaths. Damage the buildings. Nothing more."

The response was a mix of grunts and acknowledgments. Some agreed. Others didn't answer at all.

Explosives had been planted across government offices, financial hubs, and corporate landmarks. Every explosion was strategic.

"Sylvia," Keitaro said. "Give me updates."

Her voice crackled through. "Security is scrambling. You still have time, but—"

Keitaro turned his head—and saw it.

A few of the masked figures had broken formation.

They weren't just setting fires anymore.

They were hunting.

A man with a jagged scar grabbed a woman by her hair, pulling her back as she screamed.

Another masked figure pointed his rifle into the crowd and—

One of Keitaro's men—Alexei—grinned. "They run like rats, Keitaro. We should've been doing this from the start!"

Keitaro's eyes flicked to him, voice cold.

"I said no killing."

Keitaro held his gaze for a moment. He could stop them.

He had never intended for them to survive this.

The military response would be brutal.

Keitaro exhaled. "Do whatever you want. Just don't get in my way."

"Sylvia," Keitaro murmured. "Find the livestreamer."

"I'm on it," she replied. "There—she's still broadcasting."

Keitaro followed her directions, weaving through the wreckage. The air reeked of burning metal and blood.

A young woman still holding her phone, frozen in place as she captured the destruction.

She gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm. Her phone clattered onto the pavement, camera still rolling.

"WTF IS HAPPENING?!""RUN, GIRL, RUN!""WHO IS THAT???"

Keitaro wasn't interested in the messages.

"Keitaro." Sylvia's voice was sharp. "You need to leave. Now."

He turned—saw the massacre unfolding.

Some of his so-called 'allies' had turned into executioners.

A burning police car crackled in the distance.

Keitaro had expected this. He had known this would happen.

They were expendable.

"Sylvia," he said calmly. "How long until backup?"

He pulled the influencer forward. She struggled, but Keitaro's grip was iron.

The sound of helicopter blades.

Keitaro looked up.

The first military chopper had arrived.

Attack one