James Condition

Peter and Johan carefully exited the hospital, carrying the unconscious Vardan, Jay, and Leo. The aftermath of the battle left the hospital eerily silent, the air heavy with tension. As they stepped into the cold night, the dim streetlights illuminated the scars of the fight etched into their faces and the surrounding destruction.

Peter gently placed Vardan and Jay near the hospital entrance, ensuring they were comfortable despite their injuries. Johan laid Leo down beside them, his movements slow and deliberate.

"They'll recover," Johan said, his voice calm but burdened. "But we need to leave. Reinforcements might be on their way."

Peter nodded, though his gaze lingered on the hospital. His mind raced with memories of the night—the monstrous transformation of David, the coordinated battle, and his lingering guilt over striking Jay. As he turned, his eyes caught Johan's arm—or what remained of it.

"Your hand…" Peter began, his voice quiet but filled with concern.

Johan looked down at his missing hand and gave a wry smile. "Courtesy of the organization. Kuro did it. I got off easy compared to some."

Peter clenched his fists. "And James? What happened to him?"

Johan's smile faded. His eyes turned somber as he took a long breath. "James is gone."

Peter froze, the weight of those words hitting him like a blow. "Gone? Who did it? Who could possibly kill James?"

Johan's expression darkened. "It's strange. James, the No. 1 killer, taken out by a B-rank assassin—Ethan. Even in his old age, James could've crushed an A-rank, let alone a B-rank."

Peter shook his head, his voice firm. "James wasn't killed by Ethan. James was defeated by James himself."

Johan frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Peter exhaled deeply, his tone heavy with regret. "James told me years ago he had a heart condition. He didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted to live a quiet life after retirement. But the organization wouldn't let him. They pushed him too far. In the end, it wasn't a killer that beat him—it was the life he'd been forced to live."

Johan's jaw tightened, and he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as the weight of Peter's words sank in. "The organization won't stop until they've crushed every last one of us."

Peter's gaze hardened. "Then we won't stop until we crush them first."

Johan looked at Peter, his cigarette smoldering between his fingers. "What about him?" he asked, nodding toward Vardan.

Peter glanced at the unconscious young man. "Who is he?"

Johan's expression softened, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "He's James' student. Back when James worked as a janitor at the school, he trained Vardan in secret. After James died, Vardan came to me. I trained him too. He's not just another fighter—he's the one who'll bring down the organization."

Peter's eyes widened in surprise, then slowly curved into a smile. "James chose him?"

Johan nodded. "He did. And he's already proven himself. But he's not ready yet. There's still a long road ahead."

Peter took a deep breath and smiled faintly. "If James believed in him, then so do I. But for now, we need to move. The organization will send people after us soon."

Johan took a final drag from his cigarette, tossing the butt to the ground. "You're right. They'll come. But not tonight."

Without another word, the two veterans faded into the shadows, leaving the young warriors to recover. The fight against the organization wasn't over—it was just beginning.