End of attack

The road stretched ahead in near silence.

City lights blurred past the window, a quiet hum vibrating through the black sedan as it cut through the empty streets toward Bales City.

A woman with short black hair is behind the wheel driving for them. Lore, one of the elites has gotten the end of the stick and became the driver back to Bales.

Faint traces of dust still clung to Nova's coat. He sat in the back, arms folded, eyes on the glass, seeing the city pass but not really watching it.

Beside him, Vincent sat like stone, the chaos from earlier already dismissed, as if filed away into a distant part of his mind. A tablet rested on his lap, blue light reflecting faintly against him.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just end Ronan?" Nova asked suddenly, his gaze still fixed on the flickering lights outside. "He already gave us a lead on that so-called 'monster' of a leader."

"I have plans for him," Vincent replied, eyes on the screen. "And we still need to confirm if he's telling the truth."

Nova gave a small hum. "Fair. I just hope he doesn't slip away."

"He won't," Vincent said with a firm tone. "I made sure of it."

Nova sighed, not turning away from the window. Clearly lost in thoughts after the whole ordeal earlier. Learning about mana and how the whole world basically just hides it away still blows his mind. So, he just replied absentmindedly, "If you say so."

Sensing some doubt in Nova's tone, Vincent's eyes finally left the tablet. He glanced sideways, one brow slightly furrowed. "He's being moved to the Westside facility. That safehouse is locked down, rotating guards, layered security, no outside contact unless I authorize it. He's not going anywhere."

Nova blinked, snapping back into focus when he felt Vincent's side stare bearing with slight frustration. He turned his head just enough to glance at him. "Okay, okay. I was just asking. Jeez."

Vincent kept his stare for a couple more seconds, intending to press on but luckily for Nova, he stopped himself. "It's good that you know."

Nova let out a slow breath, escaping his uncle's parental outburst. Remembering the last time his uncle got mad was when he almost burned down a whole building.

Vincent reported the incident to the police and leaving him alone to spend some time in a cell for a couple of days, teaching him a lesson he will probably never forget.

"So… what now?"

Vincent tapped the screen, scrolling through something. "We're sorting the aftermath. Seized some funds from the hideout, and were still in the process of transferring assets under our name. The elites are thorough in making sure we don't miss a single crumb."

Nova raised a brow. "Impressive. They're not just deadly, huh? Might as well take the curtains while we're at it."

He continued ignoring what Nova said. "We also got three hidden properties. One of them was a front for trafficking and the other are just some hideouts they use for emergency."

He glanced at Nova. "Intel is being processed too. Encrypted drives, shipment records, and communication logs between some Mad Hounds members and outside groups. But still nothing on their leader. Not directly."

Nova leaned back, eyes fixed on the car roof. "So, we kicked the hornet's nest… and the queen's still tucked away somewhere."

"Something like that. Ronan covered his tracks well. Honestly, it's surprising he got pushed out of his own throne."

Ronan wasn't just a product of the Mad Hounds, he was its architect. From the very beginning, he built the gang from the ground up, using every dirty tool in the underground arsenal. Drugs and human trafficking were his foundation.

He was ruthless, efficient, and utterly decisive. Anyone who stood in his way disappeared. Anyone who could be used was either bought or bled dry. He partnered with smaller gangs when it suited him, only to betray them the moment they became liabilities.

Under his rule, the Mad Hounds became a feared name in the southern underworld.

To the outside world, Ronan's downfall came during a near-arrest. He vanished for weeks, and when he returned, he was no longer in charge. Whispers of a power struggle swirled, but nothing concrete ever surfaced. The public story was clean too, he lost control, someone else stepped in, and the gang kept running.

But of course, the truth wasn't what the public knew.

He had been set up. The near-arrest was a calculated move bait for a trap. And it worked. Ronan was forced into hiding, he barely escaped with his life. But in that vulnerable moment, someone came for the throne. A man, cloaked in mystery, backed by a force too big to fight.

Ronan never stood a chance. He tried. He bled. But he was beaten both physically and politically.

The only reason he lived was because killing him would've caused too much instability within the gang. So, they gave him a leash and a fake title, vice leader, just enough power to keep the system from collapsing, but never enough to reclaim what he'd built.

And Ronan, knowing exactly who backed his usurper, could only swallow the humiliation and play along. For a man who once ruled through fear and dominance, being leashed like a beaten dog was worse than death. But Ronan knew better than to fight shadows backed by titans.

"Anything else?" Nova asked.

Vincent flipped a few more pages on the tablet. "Some names popped up in the reports. Suppliers, minor informants and a few buyers. But there are no signs of your attackers that night, they're probably under by now. Easily disposed."

There was a beat of silence.

Nova looked like he was about to comment, but his phone suddenly vibrated with a faint ding.

He glanced down lazily then stopped.

A notification stared back at him.

Account Credit: +5,000,000.00

Nova blinked once then twice, inwardly shocked but a smile was evident in his face. "The hell…"

Vincent didn't even look over. "That's your payment."

Nova tilted his head, feigning confusion. "My what now?"

Vincent finally turned to face him, "Don't give me that look, I know you've been waiting for this the whole night."

Nova broke into a grin. "Heh, you caught me."

Vincent continued, eyes forward again. "I arranged the transfer. For the intel you gave us. We wouldn't have gotten to Ronan without it. Saved us time and lives. You did well. Don't overthink it."

"I won't. This is more than what I lost on the race. Way more than what I would've made if I'd actually won." Nova shook his head with a low chuckle, checking the screen repeatedly. "That's why you're my favorite uncle, uncle."

"Tsk. I'm your only uncle." Vincent didn't miss a beat.