Chapter 18

The battle raged on, a brutal dance of steel and fury. Whisper and Su Ah, relentless in their attacks, pressed their advantage, but I refused to yield. I adapted, I countered, I fought back with a ferocity born of desperation and rage.

The prolonged struggle began to shift. I managed to anticipate Whisper's next move, a swift, brutal strike aimed at my head. I sidestepped, the blow whistling past my ear, and retaliated with a powerful punch to his face. The impact sent him stumbling back, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

Seeing an opening, I turned to Su Ah. Her attacks, though relentless, were predictable, driven by a dark, mechanical precision. I feigned a block, then unleashed a powerful kick to her stomach. The force of the blow sent her reeling, momentarily disrupting her attack pattern.

For the first time since the fight began, I had gained the upper hand. A brief moment of respite, a chance to breathe, to assess the situation.

I pressed my advantage, focusing my attention on Whisper. I lunged, aiming a decisive blow, a strike meant to end him. But he was slippery, a master of deception. With a flicker of movement, he vanished, his illusion ability masking his escape. Huh, he never learns, I thought, a grim smile playing on my lips. As if he's the only one with abilities.

Activating my stealth mode, I vanished from their sight as well, blending seamlessly with the shadows. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing where I was. I then used Phantom Steps, a new skill I had acquired and mastered through rigorous training. It allowed me to move with near-impossible speed and silence, a ghostly blur in the darkness.

I moved like a phantom, circling around Su Ah, who was still recovering from my kick. I moved behind her, unseen, unheard. With a swift, precise karate chop to the nape of her neck, I rendered her unconscious. She slumped to the ground, her body limp.

Now, it was just Whisper and me.

Whisper, realizing he was now alone, abandoned his illusions and lunged, his claws extended, a vicious attack aimed to tear me apart.

But I was ready. My speed, honed through years of relentless training, allowed me to react in an instant. The attack, meant to rend flesh, instead landed harmlessly on the ground where I had been a fraction of a second before.

A cruel smile played on my lips. I wanted to break him, to shatter his arrogance, to make him feel the fear he had inflicted on so many. I wouldn't just kill him; I would dismantle him, piece by agonizing piece.

I pressed my advantage, unleashing a flurry of attacks, each one designed to inflict maximum pain without delivering the killing blow. I struck with precision, targeting pressure points, nerve clusters, areas that would maximize his suffering.

He cried out, his voice a mix of rage and terror, his body contorting in agony. He tried to retaliate, to defend himself, but he was too slow, too predictable. I moved like a phantom, striking from every angle, my attacks relentless, merciless.

I wanted him to feel cornered, trapped, utterly helpless. I wanted him to understand the terror he had inflicted on his victims. I wanted to instill fear so deeply into his mind that it would haunt his every waking moment, even in death.

With each blow, I whispered threats, promises of pain, reminders of his failures. I painted a picture of his impending demise, a slow, agonizing descent into oblivion. I wanted him to understand that he was not a predator, but prey. He was not a hunter, but the hunted.

I began to toy with him, a predator playing with its prey. I wanted to prolong his suffering, to savor his fear.

"Five seconds," I whispered, my voice a low, menacing growl. "Every five seconds, you will feel pain."

I let the first five seconds tick by, the silence amplifying the tension. Then, I struck. My first attack targeted his eyes, a sharp, precise jab that sent a searing pain through his optic nerves. He cried out, his hands flying to his face, his vision momentarily blinded by the agonizing sensation.

"Five," I hissed, my voice a low, menacing count. "Four. Three. Two. One."

With a swift, brutal motion, I drove my blade into his legs, the sharp steel slicing through muscle and bone. He screamed, a high-pitched, agonized cry that echoed through the night. He collapsed, his legs useless, his body writhing in pain.

He thrashed, his arms flailing wildly, a desperate attempt to strike back, to land a blow, any blow. But I was already gone, a ghost in the shadows, a predator watching its crippled prey. He swung at empty air, his movements clumsy, futile.

I began the count again, my voice a low, rhythmic chant. "Five… four… three… two… one."

Whisper's screams intensified, a desperate, animalistic sound. He thrashed and flailed, his arms moving in random, panicked arcs, but he couldn't see me, couldn't reach me. His attacks landed on nothing but empty air.

With a swift, precise movement, I drove my blades through his hands, pinning them to the ground like nails on a cross. His screams reached a fever pitch, a raw, primal sound of agony. He was broken, utterly and completely.

The air crackled with tension, the silence broken only by Whisper's ragged breaths. He writhed on the ground, his body contorted in a desperate attempt to escape the agony that gripped him. His eyes, wide with terror, darted around, searching for an escape that didn't exist.

I moved around him, a shadow in the night, my presence a constant reminder of his impending doom. His bravado, his cruel laughter, had vanished, replaced by a raw, animalistic fear.

"Where is it?" I asked, my voice a low, menacing whisper. "Where is that confidence now? Where is that disgusting, manic laugh of yours?"

He whimpered, his body trembling. He tried to speak, but only a choked gurgle escaped his lips. His eyes, once filled with cruel amusement, were now pools of terror, reflecting the darkness that had consumed him.

I watched him, my expression cold and unyielding. I wanted him to understand the depths of his depravity, to feel the weight of his crimes. I wanted him to know that he was not invincible, that he was not untouchable.

His struggles grew weaker, his breaths shallower. The fight had drained from him, leaving behind only a hollow shell of fear and despair. The air hung heavy with the weight of his fear, a palpable presence that filled the space between us.

Without a flicker of hesitation, without a trace of sympathy, I ended Whisper's life. The darkness swallowed his final breath, and the silence that followed was heavy, absolute.

Then, a sound broke the stillness. A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the night.

"What an amusing show," a voice drawled, laced with a chilling amusement. "You never fail to impress me, my dear Su Yan."

The Overseer stepped out of the shadows, his form illuminated by the faint starlight. A smug look plastered his face, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. He ran his tongue across his lips, his gaze fixed on me, a chilling, possessive leer that sent a shiver down my spine. He looked at me as if I was a prize to be won.

The Overseer's gaze shifted to Su Ah's unconscious form, lying nearby. "Oh my," he purred, his voice dripping with mock concern. "What did you do with my sister-in-law?" He emphasized the last word, a cruel twist of the knife.

"Overseer," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I will not grant you a swift death. I will ensure you feel every ounce of the pain you've inflicted upon others before I run my blade through your neck. I vow to agonize you, bit by bit." My eyes, burning with a cold fury, locked onto his. He would pay for what he had done to my sister, and to everyone else.

The Overseer let out a low whistle, a mocking sound that echoed through the night. "Oh, my," he purred, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing amusement. "What a romantic love confession, my dear. Do you love me that much?" He punctuated his words with a burst of psychopathic laughter, a chilling sound that sent a shiver.

"Tang Su Yan, my love," the Overseer said, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness. "It's good that you've reunited with my sister-in-law, however briefly. But it's not yet time for your grand reunion. Let me prepare her... for the next time we meet. At our wedding!" He punctuated his declaration with another bout of maniacal laughter, the sound echoing through the desolate landscape.

With a sudden, almost imperceptible shift, the Overseer vanished, leaving only a lingering trace of his presence. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared, Su Ah's limp form cradled in his arms. I was taken aback by his insane speed, a testament to the power he wielded.

But I wouldn't let him escape. I wouldn't let him take my sister away again. A surge of adrenaline coursed through me, overriding any sense of hesitation. I lunged, a blur of motion, determined to intercept him. "I won't let you!" I shouted, my voice filled with a raw, primal fury.

He blocked my blade with an unnerving ease, his hand gripping the sharp edge as if it were nothing more than a toy.

"You cannot defeat me with such weak attacks, my dear," he sneered, his voice laced with condescending amusement. "You still have a long way to go."

Then, with a brutal, fluid motion, he delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, his leg connecting with my ribs.

The impact was devastating, the force of the blow sending me flying through the air. He had delivered the kick while holding Su Ah, as if she were a mere extension of his power. The air was forced from my lungs, and a searing pain ripped through my side. I crashed to the ground, the impact jarring my senses.

He stood over me, a dark silhouette against the fading starlight, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"Before I leave," he said, his voice a low, mocking drawl, "I'll give you a parting gift."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed something onto the ground in front of me. The object landed with a sickening thud. I stared at it, my eyes widening in horror. It was Markus's head, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, his face frozen in a mask of terror.

Then, the Overseer vanished, leaving me alone with the gruesome reminder of his cruelty.

"The vice commander of the Black Grizzlies has been waiting in the lobby for three days," Mochi informed me, her voice laced with a quiet urgency. "I told them to wait until you woke, boss. They've already held a funeral for Markus. But their people… they're dishearten. They're in fear and panic. They want to come under your wing, under your command, to ease their people's fears."

Three days. I'd been unconscious for three days. The realization sent a jolt of alarm through me. So much could have happened. And Markus... his death was still a raw, gaping wound.

"Bring them in," I said, my voice firm despite the lingering weakness. "And Mochi, prepare a briefing room. I need to know everything that's happened in the last three days."

The responsibility of leading the Black Grizzlies weighed heavily on me. They were a people in mourning, in fear, and they were looking to me for guidance, for protection. I wouldn't fail them.