tmnt101107: Thanks for reading.
CRed1988: Glad you think so. Look forward to more yakuza goodness.
CROSS-EVOL-X: The teasing will be legendary. It'll be the Zin and Fie teasing Van and Elaine levels of teasing lol. Kress getting shivers whenever Gramheart's scheming possible torture. Oh, I have plans for Kress's and the Direwolf's relationship. You'll see... very soon. I can't comment about him learning the canon martial arts styles of Calvard, but I will say, by the end of Daybreak 1's arc, he'll definitely be the Aurelia of fisticuffs. Thanks for the review! And great username :)
Einzven: It is Kress, Agnes, and Renne. Van and Elaine. Aaron and Ashen. Shizuna and Rean... which already is a spoiler of how Rean is appearing sooner than in canon-
tmnt101107: It definitely isn't as big as the Tojo Clan. It's small but some of the people in the clan are physically powerful. They just really lacked resources and power in the business side. Fellow reader, I had to research a lot about yakuza hierarchy to fit with such a small clan like the Hibiki Clan.
RosyMiranto18: Delving into the deeper stuff around Hibiki Clan history might happen in Daybreak 2 arcs... At least from what I have already planned (up to Basil) currently. I want to say military academies only have first and second years, but yeah, you're right. St. Astraia is weird... and Jenis and Aramis aren't even official military academies so... Well, let's settle that some schools only have two years for the students lol. Agnes does General Affairs. Kress loves chips heh. They haven't been living in the manor since Hikaru and the OG Keisuke Hibiki left to go when Kress began going to Aramis. Hikaru's backstory will happen, of course! Don't worry. The power of the Baseball Physics skill is indeed powerful. And ngl, definitely coincidence lmao. I might have been subconsciously thinking about Shimano when I thought of Toshiro Komagawa. Well, you'll see in this chapter how things will start off! Thanks you for the review!
luukvandegriftschool: Thank!
Guest: Thank you for the read!
Koncor the great: Yeah, Kress isn't on the level where he could take on zombified trained mercenaries. Honestly, I'm sorry to say that he won't be going zombie hunting, but to keep myself from spoiling shit for this comment, please do look forward to this chapter, great reader!
Guest: Thanks for reading, reader! Yeah, Bishop won't just a small-time antagonist that turned side character in Kress's story. He fixes his hair since he always slicks it back whenever he goes to the Blacklight District, also he changes his clothes lol. Oh, the Kress jacket stripping scene is going to be such a fun one to make. It's going to happen. Something to look forward to: it'll have the first debut and the debut with the complete part-timers lineup. Looking forward to your next review if you do.
Well look at that! A double whammy out of nowhere? Is this a sign that the next chapter will be two months from now?! Idk really know, but it's only right to give you awesome readers the next chapter and to show appreciation to Calvard arc. (I at least want to finish up to Daybreak 1, even if I have plans for Daybreak 2 and Kai into the fic *insert skull emote*)
But whatever, enjoy Chapter 7
EDIT: OC Julian now changed to Julius, completely forgot about one of the important NPC in Trails lore, I'm ashamed. Thanks RosyMiranto18 for pointing that out. Actually answers to review on the next chapter, as usual.
In a dimly lit backroom provided by Grandma Gin, the scent of old wood and faint tobacco lingered in the air. Komagawa sat tied to a chair, his muscles straining against the ropes binding him. Despite his situation, his glare remained unwavering, burning with fury as he spat onto the ground.
"You're going to regret this, you little bitch. You and that brat."
Across from him, Hikaru remained as composed as ever. She didn't react to the insult, didn't even acknowledge it. Instead, she regarded him with an impassive stare with her pink eyes.
"Tell me everything you know about the Hibiki Clan's current state." She didn't ask— she ordered.
Komagawa bared his teeth in a grin. "Like hell I would."
"You truly believe your silence will protect you?" Hikaru tilted her head, voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "Do you think the Hibiki Clan will come running to your rescue? Hmm... Perhaps if Lady Himeko was still alive... But now? I have my doubts they would avenge a failure like you."
"You..." His fury sizzled down for a moment, the rest of her words falling on deaf ears. "How the hell do you know about the chairman's woman?"
"That is of no concern to you."
The bound lieutenant gritted his teeth, eyes burning with suspicion. "You're not just some brat's bodyguard, are you?"
"Tell me what I want to know." She ignored his speculation.
"Tch. You think I'm scared of you? I'd rather die than betray my clan!" Komagawa let out a harsh laugh.
Hikaru studied him for a moment.
Ah.
Now, she understood everything.
Then, her lips parted slightly.
"You're new."
"What?"
"A recent recruit… or a newly promoted lieutenant at best." Hikaru's tone remained coldly analytical as if she were dissecting an insect. "You speak with more loyalty than knowledge. You act like you matter, but in reality, you know nothing beyond what you've already shown."
Komagawa stiffened. Her words weren't just speculation. She knew. And worse, she was right.
Hikaru sighed softly, as if disappointed. "How unfortunate. That means you are of no further use to me."
Without hesitation, she reached behind her and retrieved one of her chained scythes. A moment later, a sickening squelch followed. Komagawa's world tilted and dropped.
Before he even realized it, his head was cleanly cut off from his shoulders.
From the corner of the room, a slow whistle sounded.
"Well, shit. No wonder your weapons looked familiar," Bishop muttered, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Didn't expect you to actually go for the kill. I thought he'd still have some use for ya?"
The assassin casually brought out a handkerchief, wiping off the blood from her blade. "Komagawa didn't recognize I was once a part of the Hibiki Clan nor did he know the identity of my master. He had already shown everything he knew, and so, he already exposed himself as worthless."
Bishop studied her before asking, "Are you a disciple of that woman?"
"Hmm... It seems you know more than you let on, Bishop." Hikaru ignored his question, meeting his gaze with her blank pink eyes. "The Young Master is right: who are you?"
"Me? I'm just your average scummy info broker."
"No info broker would go as far as to offer their pinky to prove their loyalty." Hikaru snapped back and shook her head, earning an amused chuckle from the man. "Are you a yakuza yourself? Former, survivor, or exiled?"
"You seriously don't think I'm going to just answer that, right?" He snorted. "We all have our secrets. It's up to you to uncover them."
"If you weren't cooperating with the Young Master, I would have forced those secrets out of you by now."
"Oh, I don't doubt that," Bishop smirked, unfazed by the quiet threat. "You've got the look of someone who's very good at getting answers, one way or another." He gestured toward the lifeless body of Komagawa, the blood pooling around the severed head. "Case in point."
"Komagawa was a fool, nothing more. Keeping him alive would have only invited unnecessary complications."
"Yeah, yeah, you assassins and your efficiency." Bishop rolled his shoulders before slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "Guess I should be glad I'm still breathing, huh?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you intend to betray my Young Master."
"I like my life, thanks." Bishop let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "If I was going to screw over Keisuke Hibiki, I wouldn't have bothered sticking my neck out this far."
Hikaru observed him for a moment before closing her eyes. "Good."
"Seriously, though," Bishop exhaled, rubbing his temple. "You were really one of her disciples?"
"I see no reason to answer that."
"Yeah, thought so." Bishop snorted, tapping his foot against the floor. "Still, it explains a lot, especially your choice of weapon."
The assassin tilted her head slightly. "You speak as if you've met her."
"Just stuff I heard from the grapevine." Bishop shrugged. He'd turn toward the door. "Well, this has been an enlightening conversation, but I think we should wrap things up before Gin decides we're taking too long."
Hikaru glanced at Komagawa's corpse before walking past Bishop toward the door. "I will take care of the body."
"Yeah, I figured you would." Bishop rubbed the back of his neck, muttering under his breath, "Yup, definitely a disciple of hers."
"So, you guys will be heading to Creil tomorrow?"
"Yes. It's the most likely destination where Feri's friend went to."
Kress walked alongside Agnes as they made their way toward the dormitories, the streets of the Auber District quieting down as the night deepened.
The transmigrator would hum, mulling over her words. "Sounds like it could get complicated."
"Maybe, but I'd still like it if you could join us." Agnes turned her head toward him, her expression hopeful. "I know you have your own things going on, but having you around would be reassuring."
"Yeah, well... I'd like to go, but I can't say for sure."
"You're talking about your student council work?"
"Yup," He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Even though it's a Saturday, I still have my duties as vice president. And knowing Renne, she probably has some extra tasks saved up for me."
Agnes giggled sheepishly. "That does sound like something Renne would do."
Kress merely shook his head. Though he played it off in the back of his mind, he was genuinely considering his options. Renne had hinted before that she would persuade Hikaru to take over his duties for the day. But would his overprotective maid actually agree to that?
If Renne can somehow work her magic and convince Hikaru, then maybe... just maybe, he could go along.
Still, it wasn't a guarantee.
Agnes must have sensed his hesitation because she smiled reassuringly. "No pressure, Kress. I just thought it would be nice if you came along."
"I'll let you know by tomorrow morning," The dyed-blonde teen said, offering a small grin. "If I can, I'll be there."
"I'll hold you to that."
They continued walking in comfortable silence until they reached the dormitory gates.
Agnes turned to him, clasping her hands together. "Thanks for walking me back."
"No problem."
With one last smile, Agnes stepped inside, leaving Kress alone under the dim glow of the street lamps. He felt his pocket vibrate as he took out his orbment.
[Hikaru] I have taken care of Toshiro Komagawa, Young Master. Unfortunately, he seemed to be a newly promoted lieutenant or recruit based on his reactions while I interrogated him. He provided nothing we hadn't already known.
Kress scowled, biting his inner cheek. The transmigrator already felt annoyed how his confrontation with a member of the Hibiki Clan didn't meet the conditions of the [Beneath the Shadow of Almata] mission. He had hoped that new discoveries in the interrogation would lead him to finally complete it.
His expectations were now crushed.
Sighing, he sent a short reply and told her he was heading back.
[Hikaru] Understood. Please rest and relax as soon as you get home, Young Master. I'll return to prepare dinner after finishing an errand of mine.
That got him to raise a brow, but he sent his reply saying he got it.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Kress strolled through the dimly lit streets of the Auber District. The night was quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars or the rhythmic tapping of his own footsteps against the cobblestone roads.
It wasn't long before he passed by the Grand Cathedral when he heard a familiar voice called out to him.
"Keisuke?"
Turning his head, he spotted a certain violet-haired student council president standing near the cathedral steps, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
Kress blinked. "Well, this is unexpected. Didn't think you were the type to visit a church, Prez."
"And you didn't strike me as the type to take evening strolls, yet here we are." Renne chuckled, her fingers lightly brushing against the sleeve of her uniform.
"That's 'cause I was just heading home." He retorted, not being able to resist a smirk. "You, though? What, suddenly feeling the need to confess your sins?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Renne teased, the corner of her lips curling up. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not here for redemption."
"Then what are you doing here?"
She shifted her gaze toward the cathedral doors before answering. "I'm waiting for someone."
Kress quirked an eyebrow but didn't press. He knew better than to pry into Renne's business when she didn't want to share.
Instead, the former Enforcer was the one to switch topics. "Have you checked on Agnes?"
"Yeah. Walked her back to the dorms just now," The dyed-blonde transmigrator answered, leaning casually against the stone railing near the steps. "She seemed fine. Just a little tired, I guess."
Since this was Renne he was talking to, Kress figured it was all right for him to tell his fellow second-year of their junior's plans for tomorrow.
"I see," The former Enforcer nodded her head and crossed her arms. "Well, you're free to follow after them. All you really need to do is accompany me to a meeting with the principal to discuss the academy plans for this school year. After that, Miss Aozaki will handle the rest of your duties."
"Isn't a secretary usually the one accompanying the president to meetings?" Kress gave her a deadpan stare before sighing. "But more importantly, how exactly will you be persuading Hikaru?"
Renne smiled mischievously. "Oh, don't worry about that, Keisuke. I have my ways."
"I hope those ways don't involve violence."
"Oh, please. I'm not a brute, you know."
That may be so, but Kress was well aware that Renne was more than capable of retaliating if Hikaru started to be violent first. He doubted things would take a violent turn, knowing how they usually were, but he could never be too sure, especially when he already saw how his maid got whenever his safety was threatened.
"I guess I'll leave things to you..."
"Good boy. I'll send you the time of the meeting tomorrow. The principal hasn't confirmed an exact timeslot yet."
"..."
"What's wrong?"
"...You have my number?"
"You don't have mine?" Renne seemed genuinely taken aback. "You are part of our student council group chat, yet you don't have my number? Don't tell me you don't have the number of the others as well?"
"No, I got Agnes and Albert's numbers, and Odette pestered me in giving mine to hers so—"
Renne's eyes narrowed dangerously, and before Kress could react, she swiftly plucked his Xipha right out of his hands.
"Oi!"
Ignoring his protest, she flipped through his contacts, her expression shifting to one of mild disbelief. "Unbelievable. You really don't have my number. Even Odette got hers in before me?"
"Not my fault. She wouldn't stop pestering me about it." Kress scowled, crossing his arms.
"And yet, you didn't think to ask for mine? You wound me." Renne sighed in mock disappointment. "Honestly, Keisuke. This is unacceptable behavior from my vice president."
"Oh, forgive me, Your Highness," He deadpanned, watching as she deftly typed her number into his contacts.
Satisfied, Renne saved it with a flourish before tossing the Xipha back to him.
"There. Now you don't have an excuse to ignore my messages." She smirked. "I'll even let you keep my contact name normal— unlike Odette.
Kress grimaced, remembering how the twin-tailed first year set her name as Queen Odette, Ruler of Peasants.
"I hope this doesn't mean the only messages I'll be receiving from you are errands and favors."
"Of course not," Just as Kress was about to sigh in relief, Renne added with a smirk. "Expect to be dragged by me on the weekends every once in a while. I'd love to have some muscle carry my shopping bags for me."
Drats.
Renne remained where she stood, watching Kress's figure disappear into the night. The moment he was out of sight, she stretched and turned back toward the cathedral steps, waiting by the steps. Faint yet precise and controlled footsteps approached her.
Right on time.
Without needing to look, Renne already knew who it was.
"Good evening, Miss Aozaki," The violet-haired young lady greeted smoothly, turning her golden eyes toward the approaching figure.
"I've come as you've asked, President Bright." The black-haired undercover assassin walked toward her, dressed in her usual maid uniform. "And now I see that you were stalling the Young Master so that I would meet you here."
"I would say it was more of a coincidence that I went outside to get some fresh air when I spotted him," She explained with a chuckle. "Let's talk."
"If this is about tomorrow, then no. I am coming with the Young Master to wherever he goes."
Renne sighed, feigning disappointment. "I thought you might say that. But tell me, Hikaru, are you really so incapable of trusting Keisuke to handle himself?"
"I trust the Young Master's skills." The assassin's eyes flashed with something unreadable, adding, "I do not trust his recklessness... and my intuition tells me that I shouldn't leave him alone."
"Fair point," Renne conceded. "But you can't be everywhere at once. Sooner or later, you'll have to loosen your leash a little."
Hikaru's expression remained unreadable, but there was the faintest twitch of her fingers— a subtle tell that Renne didn't miss.
"I will not be persuaded so easily," Hikaru said coldly.
"Oh?" Renne tilted her head, smirking wide. "Then how about this?"
With that, she pulled out her Xipha and, without breaking eye contact, tossed it lightly toward Hikaru. The assassin caught it easily, eyes narrowing as she glanced down at the screen. Her fingers tensed.
Displayed clearly on the device was a tracking interface— one that showed a blinking dot labeled Keisuke Hibiki. It displayed not only his current location at their apartment but also his vitals in real time.
"I installed a bug on his orbment just now." Renne clasped her hands behind her back, tilting her head slightly. "That little dot? That's him. And the readings? His condition. Heart rate, movement, all of it. Now, with that in place, do you really have a reason to follow him around like a worried mother hen?"
For the first time, Hikaru was silent.
Renne pressed further. "With this, you'll know where he is at all times. You'll know if he's in trouble. And most importantly, it means you can stay and handle his student council work while he does his own thing."
Pink eyes remained locked on the screen, but Renne knew she had won when Hikaru exhaled softly through her nose.
"…Very well," The assassin murmured. "I will take over his duties."
Renne's smirk widened. "Now that's more like it."
Somewhere in the Far East – September 6, 1208
"You're saying that Toshiro still hasn't sent his report?"
"Yes, Captain Sado. It's been overdue three hours ago."
"That brat... This is what we get for letting a brute with no brains be promoted. What the hell was that patriarch of ours thinking..."
Wearing a black and red suit, a black-haired man with a scar on the left side of his face scowled as he downed his sake. Sitting across from him in a black and grey suit, a man with curly black hair poured him another glass.
"There's something off about this," The man in the black and grey suit murmured as he set the sake bottle down. His dark eyes flickered toward the scarred captain. "Toshiro may have been an idiot, but he wouldn't just go silent like this. Either he's been taken in by the bracers… or he's dead."
The scarred man— Sado— sighed, swirling the liquid in his cup before downing it in one smooth motion. He didn't look angry, nor did he seem particularly surprised.
"I was hoping the fool would at least last a month before kicking the bucket," He muttered, rubbing his temple. "Well, that's what happens when you let a dog off its leash."
"Shall I ask someone to confirm what happened?"
"No. I want you to handle it yourself, Rentarou."
A slow nod. "Understood. I'll find out what happened in the Blacklight District."
Silence settled between them, the scent of incense and aged wood filling the air. Outside, the faint hum of cicadas droned in the distance, an eerie backdrop to their quiet conversation.
"And what about Creil?" The curly-haired one decided to ask. "Almata is waiting if we'll be sending them an extra pair of hands."
"The Chairman Hibiki hasn't given any orders." Sado leaned back, tilting his sake cup in a swirl. "I assume he's leaving it to us and the Kurotaki to decide who joins Almata for their operation."
"Then… shall I—"
Before the other man could finish, a shadow stirred at the edge of the room. The flickering candlelight barely illuminated the figure that stepped forward.
"There's no need for that," the newcomer said, voice smooth yet unreadable. "We will handle it."
Both men turned their gazes toward the intruder.
Rentarou was the first to speak. "So… the Kurotaki have already decided?"
"We figured it was time for us to take the initiative for a change." A faint smirk appeared on their face. "I will accompany Almata in Creil."
Sado's fingers curled around his sake cup, his sharp eyes observing the figure before him. After a long pause, he let out a snort.
"…Fine." He set the cup down, meeting the newcomer's gaze. "I'll trust you to make sure things don't get out of hand."
A slight bow. "Of course."
With that, the figure disappeared as swiftly as they arrived, leaving only the faint rustle of fabric in their wake.
The curly-haired man let out a breath, glancing back at his captain. "Do you trust them?"
Sado chuckled, but there was no amusement in his tone.
"Not one bit."
Aramis Academy: Principal's Office, Auber District – September 7, S. 1208
The meeting with the principal seemed to be going smoothly. Renne sat with perfect posture as she engaged in conversation with the principal. She looked as if she had been born for meetings like this, completely in control of the discussion.
Kress, on the other hand, was slouched in his chair, barely keeping himself from dozing off. He had tuned out most of what they were talking about. Something about curriculum planning, budget allocation, and other things that he knew that he wouldn't be of help with.
Even back in his previous life, he had struggled with formal meetings between himself and adults. Aidios, those morning roll calls were tedious and troublesome.
Just as he let his mind wander again, a voice cut through his daze.
"Mr. Hibiki?"
Kress blinked, straightening slightly. The principal was looking directly at him, expectant.
"What?"
"I asked if you could do me a favor," The man said again, adjusting his glasses.
"Is this part of my responsibilities as vice president?" Kress frowned, crossing his arms.
The principal hesitated. "Well… not exactly."
Kress's frown deepened as he mulled it over, but before he could say anything, the principal suddenly let out a nervous yelp, shrinking slightly into his chair.
"…Did you just flinch?"
"Ah—! No, no! It's just that—" The older man chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Your expression was… quite intense."
Damn, delinquent body.
Renne snickered quietly beside him, and Kress grumbled but started to relax his face.
"Yes, well…" The principal cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "This is a bit of a personal matter, but… it's about my son."
Kress quirked an eyebrow. "Okay...?"
The principal visibly relaxed, letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you, Mr. Hibiki. I know this is beyond your usual responsibilities, but I truly appreciate it."
"I think he's been… mingling with the wrong crowd," the principal admitted, his voice laced with concern. "I received word that he's been spending time in the Blacklight District. I was hoping you could… fetch him for me."
Kress weighed his options. After Renne informed him that she had persuaded Hikaru to take over his Saturday duties, he had hoped to start heading to Creil once the meeting was over, but that didn't seem like it was going to be an option. Asking Hikaru to take care of this for him as well would be too much... and shameless. Definitely shameless.
"I'm honestly questioning your position as an educator if you're able to ask a student to actually go to the unspoken district in the capital..." A deadpan stare was sent, and the principal gulped, smiling helplessly. "But fine, I'll do it. Stereotyping aside, I get why you approached me with this."
The principal visibly relaxed, letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you, Mr. Hibiki. I know this is beyond your usual responsibilities, but I truly appreciate it."
"Yeah, yeah." Kress waved him off. "Just give me a picture, and I'll get started."
The principal reached into his desk and slid over a small photo. It was a picture of a young man, likely in his late teens, with neatly combed brown hair and a face that screamed 'privileged.'
"I'll see what I can do," He said, standing up from his seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Hibiki."
Kress turned toward Renne, who had been watching the whole exchange with her usual knowing smirk.
Well, looks like your schedule just got rearranged."
All Renne got was a grumble and scowl.
Kress sighed, rubbing his temples as he made his way into the Blacklight District. The moment he stepped onto the main street, he felt it.
A shift in the air.
Half of the thugs in the district took one look at him and immediately turned on their heels, scampering off like rats avoiding a predator. Conversations cut short, backs stiffened, and even a few regular drunks shuffled out of his way, muttering curses under their breath.
Kress pinched the bridge of his nose. "Seriously...?"
He had noticed his reputation growing over the past few weeks, but now it was like he had become some walking urban legend.
The other half of the district's scumbags, however, didn't run away.
No, they were staring at him.
But instead of fear, there was… admiration?
Kress shuddered at the awed looks some of them were giving him. One particularly scrawny thug with spiky blue hair and a missing tooth nudged his friend excitedly before whispering in hushed tones.
"T-That's him, right? The Great Akuma?"
Oh no.
"The dude who took Johnny's boys the other day?" Another thug added, his voice practically trembling.
Oh no.
"Didn't he beat the owner of that soapland senseless yesterday?!"
OH NO.
Kress picked up his pace, grumbling under his breath.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he made his way toward the nearest group of thugs who hadn't immediately bolted upon seeing him. As much as he wanted to ignore all this nonsense, he had a job to do.
"Hey," The dyed-blonde teen called out, pulling the photo from his pocket. "Any of you seen this kid?"
The thugs exchanged glances, their eyes darting between the picture and Kress like they were trying to decide whether answering him was worth it.
But the spiky-haired guy from earlier practically lit up with excitement.
"Great Akuma!" He practically ran up to Kress, grinning like a fool. "I saw this rich brat earlier! He's been hanging around some alley near Dynamite Bar!"
Kress twitched at the unnecessary title but chose to ignore it. "Dynamite Bar?"
"Yes, sir! You're planning on showing him the error of his ways, aren't you?! Perhaps bestowing upon him the wrath of the Akuma—"
Kress didn't stay long enough to hear the rest of that nonsense. He was already walking away, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.
If he found out who started that damn nickname, they'll be receiving one hell of a beating.
By the time he arrived at the alley, he was already preparing for the worst.
Rich kids who wandered into the Blacklight District usually found themselves wrapped up with the wrong crowd illegal gambling rings, street gangs, or worse, drug peddlers.
But when he turned the corner and saw the 'bad influences' that the principal's kid was hanging around with…
He had to pause.
Because instead of a group of hardened criminals or shady lowlifes…
It was just a bunch of weirdos.
A dozen or so delinquents were gathered in the alleyway, music blaring from an old stereo as two people in oversized hoodies and sneakers faced off in what could only be described as a…
…dance battle.
Kress blinked. Once. Twice.
"What am I even looking at...?"
The principal's kid faced a delinquent wearing a bandana over his forehead, executing breakdance moves with an arrogant yet exhilarated expression.
Kress crossed his arms, watching in bemusement as the so-called 'bad influences' hyped up the ongoing dance battle. The principal's son, Julius, moved with surprising fluidity, executing spins and precise footwork with practiced ease.
His opponent, the bandana-wearing delinquent, attempted to match him step for step, but it was clear who had the upper hand. With a final dramatic spin, the principal's son stopped mid-motion, balancing effortlessly on one hand before flipping back onto his feet.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Damn, rich boy's got moves!"
"Didn't expect that! That footwork was clean!"
The bandana guy sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Tch, fine. You win this round, kid."
"As expected. You need to work on your transitions if you want to beat me next time."
Deciding he had seen enough, Kress clapped his hands twice. The sharp sound cut through the excited chatter, drawing all attention to him.
"Sorry to ruin your fun, but I need that rich kid right now."
The alley fell silent. Every delinquent turned to look at him, eyes wide, posture stiffening like they had just been caught committing some unspeakable crime.
"It's him…"
"The Great Akuma…"
Kress twitched, his jaw tightening as he shot a glare toward the crowd. 'I swear to Aidios if one more person calls me that…'
The principal's son, oblivious to the tension, turned toward him with a curious look. "Who's Akuma?"
"No one important." Turning to the kid, the dyed-blonde transmigrator began to crack his knuckles, his Menacing Aura skill activating. "Now... Are you going to go to your father and explain why you've been going to the Blacklight District yourself? Or do I have to drag you there by force?"
The rich kid paled in an instant, nodding his head repeatedly. "I'll go, I'll go!"
"Smart choice."
The surrounding delinquents, still wary of his presence, watched in stunned silence as Julius straightened up, dusting off his clothes with hurried movements. It was clear that whatever rebellious confidence the kid had while breakdancing had crumbled the moment Kress activated his Menacing Aura.
One of the bystanders hesitantly raised a hand. "Uh, Great Akuma, sir… can we, uh, continue our dance battle now?"
Kress turned his glare on the poor soul, who immediately shrank back. He eventually sighed and nodded.
"Yeah, do whatever you want. Just don't cause trouble."
The delinquents exhaled collectively, nodding rapidly.
The principal's kid sighed dramatically. "Man, you really know how to kill the mood."
"Not my job to keep the mood alive," Kress retorted, grabbing Julius by the shoulder and steering him toward the exit of the alley. "My job was to make sure you didn't end up in some real trouble. Your dad was real worried, man. If it was just doing a dance-off, you could have at least told him to keep him from having an aneurysm."
"B-But it's embarrassing!"
"Not as embarrassing as having someone personally picking you every time you go down here."
"..."
As they walked back toward the exit of the Blacklight District, Kress suddenly felt it— a familiar gaze, lingering just a little too long. A presence watching him from the shadows. His steps slowed.
"Keep going ahead and talk to your father," He told the other teen, nudging him forward. "I'll catch up."
The principal's kid raised a brow, clearly confused but slowly nodded and made his way to exit.
Kress didn't turn immediately, instead shoving his hands into his pockets.
"You gonna keep lurking, or are you gonna come out and say what's on your mind?"
A low chuckle echoed from the shadows.
A moment later, Bishop emerged, his hands lazily tucked into his coat pockets. A smirk was in place, though this time, there was something sharper behind his gaze.
"You really got sharp instincts, kid," Bishop mused, stopping a few feet away. "Most people wouldn't have even noticed me."
"I get that a lot." The teen replied. "What's up?"
"Got a little something you might wanna hear," His expression hardened, and that meant it was something serious. "Word on the street is, a member of the Kurotaki family has been dispatched. They're heading to Creil."
Kress's brows furrowed. "Kurotaki…?"
Just like with the Arichi family, the name felt oddly familiar. It stirred something in the back of his mind, but the details remained just out of reach.
"Don't know who exactly they sent," Bishop continued, rocking on his heels. "Or if they're another dumb musclehead like Komagawa. But they're moving with Almata. That much is certain."
Kress scowled. This wasn't good. If Almata and the Hibiki Clan were making moves in Creil, that meant whatever was going down over there wasn't small. Agnes and the others could be in danger.
"…Bishop," Kres called out suddenly, turning to the info broker. "You got a vehicle I can use?"
Bishop arched an eyebrow, then let out a chuckle. "You're really in a rush, huh?"
"Buses are too slow."
"You're lucky I'm starting to like you, kid. Follow me."
The roar of the orbal bike cut through the tranquil atmosphere as Kress sped down the winding road toward Creil Village. The sun was starting to set, painting the horizon in orange.
His grip tightened on the handlebars as he rounded a bend. His experienced driving was all thanks to the Yakuza System providing a convenient skill for him.
-Motorbike Expert-
It cost half of his Yakuza Point for some reason, but he couldn't complain about it since he was in a rush.
If Almata and the Hibiki Clan had already set their sights on the village, then whatever was planned could already be in motion.
Kress leaned forward, pushing the orbal bike faster. The engine growled in response, cutting through the peaceful silence of the countryside. The landscape slowly shifted; the rocky mountain paths gave way to greenery, and the air grew thick with the scent of fresh pine and wildflowers.
There it was— Creil Village.
The sight would have been peaceful, idyllic even, if not for the nagging feeling gnawing at Kress's gut.
Something was off.
He couldn't put his finger on it, but a heavy tension hung in the air.
The dyed-blonde transmigrator slowed the bike as he approached the entrance of the village, parking it beside the blue truck he spotted around.
Getting off the bike, his eyes scanned the village, taking in every detail— the placement of crates and barrels near some homes, the children playing nearby, and a dark presence that lingered as if it had been around in the past.
"Kress! You're here!"
Kress turned his head toward the familiar voice, spotting Agnes, Van, and Feri making their way toward him. Agnes looked relieved, while Van maintained his usual laid-back yet guarded demeanor, hands tucked into his coat pockets. Feri, the youngest of the three, beamed excitedly as she waved at him.
"Yo," Kress greeted, raising a hand in greeting. "How's the search for your missing person going?"
Van let out a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "We've been gathering bits and pieces, but I think we got enough to piece something concrete."
"We were just about to go over everything we've found so far at the inn," Agnes added, smiling. "You should join us."
"Sure," Kress nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, I was planning to check in with you guys anyway."
With that, he followed them through the village streets.
"Since when did you know how to ride an orbal bike?" Van asked, glancing at him with mild curiosity.
"I was also curious about that," Agnes was in agreement. "I've never seen you use one before."
"I picked it up in my free time," He lied smoothly. Because if he were to say it was his first time, they might call him out... At least, he had a feeling Van would.
"You didn't run into any trouble, did you?"
"Nothing like that." 'Yet,' he wanted to say, but he kept that to himself. "What about you, guys?"
"We'll tell you everything upstairs," Van answered.
They soon arrived at the inn, and the four of them went up to a room on the second floor. Once they were seated at the table, Van informed Kress everything since they started their investigation.
The transmigrator felt his eyes gradually narrow as he digested all the information they shared with him. This missing person case for a jaeger and her comrades started to grow weirder with each passing second. Kress then recalled the dark presence that lingered in the village. Could that be connected to this Aida woman and her friends?
"That's why I'm thinkin' there's gotta be something more to this— some answer that's staring us in the face. Something that'd force a flock of top-ranking jaegers from their nests and into hiding for ten days straight... and something that'd make the commander come to the village at night all by herself."
"Ugh. I feel like we're so close to solving this mystery, but we're still missing the critical pieces to this puzzle..."
Kress shot up from his chair, gaze narrowing at the door. "Someone's coming, and they're strong."
Van's eyes widened before he, too, narrowed them. "Don't bother knocking. Who the hell are you?"
"Ho? Did your senses get better, Arkride? Nah. They're sharp, but I can tell there's someone with sharper senses with you."
The door creaked open before Van could move, and in stepped a figure who exuded sheer confidence— an overwhelming, savage presence that immediately set Kress on edge as his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.
A man in a garish pink pinstripe suit strutted into the room, his high-collared jacket left untucked, revealing the silver 'Wolf' emblazoned on his shoulder. His spiky, disheveled orange hair and well-kept beard framed a face that wore an amused smirk. The way he moved spoke volumes. Even with his rounded shades, he could see a dangerous glint behind his eyes.
A predator had entered the den.
His clothes were different, but Kress recognized that face, even if it felt like years since he had played his games in his past life.
"The hell are you doing here, Direwolf?!" The Spriggan spoke his thoughts for him as he snapped at the Enforcer with unbridled fury.
"Heh. Good to see you, too." Walter Kron ignored his hostility and chuckled, amused. "Nice job fixing up that truck of yours. It looks brand-spanking new."
"Yeah. No thanks to you, asshole!"
The older man shrugged and turned his attention to the rest.
"Hey there, girlies— Wait a damn second…" His eyes narrowed dangerously, zoning in on Kress. "I thought I was overthinking things, but holy shit, you've got the same nasty glare as Torin Hibiki! You gotta be his son!"
Kress felt his heart drop. "You know him...?"
"Know him? Hahaha! That old bastard is on my wish list of people I want to fight," He grinned. Kress began to understand the glint in his eyes— it was bloodlust and insanity. "If only he'd come out of his territory... But I can settle for throwing down with his kid. Maybe he'll finally show himself if I send him your crippled body as a gift?"
"Y-You will do no such thing!"
"A-Agnes?!"
Agnes, horrified by hearing his intent, stood between her senior and the Enforcer, spreading her arms out. Walter narrowed his eyes further.
"Ho?" The man flexed his fingers, his power leaking a bit as Agnes flinched back. "And what makes you think I'll do as you say, girlie?"
"Don't even joke about threatening her," Kress growled under his breath as his gaze intensified.
His Menacing Aura skill subconsciously activated, but it proved useless in the face of the Direwolf, whose strength was leagues above the transmigrator's.
"Quit scarin' them, Direwolf. They're my clients you're threatening." Van responded cooly, yet his fury was still evident. "And for the record, this is our room. You can't just barge in and act like you own the place. Now, I'm only going to ask you this one last time: what the HELL are you doing here?"
"I'm just here on a little business trip." Walter snorted and withdrew his aura, rolling his shoulder. "I arrived in the village just a moment ago. But imagine my surprise when I saw a familiar truck at the entrance."
At his words, Van's eyes immediately flared into unbridled rage once again, surprising even Kress when he noticed it.
"I figured I'd swing by and say hello. I still owe you an apology, so I thought I'd smooth things over and ask you to take on another—"
"Let me stop you right there," The Spriggan interrupted unapologetically, eyes half-lidded with dismissal. "I am never going to take a job from you again. Frankly, I don't give two shits about what brought you here. Now get the hell out of our room."
"Damn, Arkride. Why you gotta be like that?" Walter shrugged helplessly and shook his head. "I thought you took jobs from anyone, so why're you giving me the cold shoulder?"
"Cause you're an asshole," Van quipped. "Oh, and you can forget about that apology. I got a replacement, so we're square. But bein' square and goin' back to square one ain't the same thing. You not only burned this bridge— you demolished it. Literally!"
The Enforcer simply laughed, finding the Spriggan completely amusing. "As much as I love to continue hounding ya, I still have a business to do... which brings me to my other reason for visiting: you saw a guy with mint-green hair?"
Agnes and Feri's eyes grew wide, glancing at each other. That didn't go unnoticed by the Direwolf as he smiled slightly.
"I'll take that silence as a yes. So, he's in the village, then?"
"I won't confirm or deny. I'm curious, though. Why're you after him?"
"Oh, we're just playing a little game of hide and seek. That's all." He turned back to the door. "But I'm not in a rush, so I think I'll chill here for tonight. I'll stay out of your hair, but remember, I'm always happy to lend a helping hand. Just throwin' it out there."
"Just get out of here already!"
"One last thing," He glanced over his shoulder, staring directly at the transmigrator's eyes. "I wasn't kidding when I said I don't mind fighting you. Maybe not to the extent I said before, but I'd love to see if you got the same fire your old man has."
With those parting words, the Direwolf left the room completely.
And only then did the room finally breathe out.
"That was terrifying," Feri whined, her knees giving in.
"J-Just who was that?"
"Someone you two are better off not knowing. That goes double for you, Agnes." Van sighed, running a hand through his hair. He then turned to Kress, who looked exhausted more than anything. "You good, man? I didn't think he'd take that much interest in ya."
Kress rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't expect him to recognize me that fast. Or to be that eager to beat the crap outta me."
Van scoffed. "Yeah, well, if there's one thing Direwolf loves, it's picking fights with people who catch his interest. Especially the strong ones."
"Wonderful," Kress muttered dryly. "That's just what I needed."
"Anyway, enough of that bastard. It's almost dinner time, and I dunno about you guys, but I could use something sweet after that headache."
"Oh!" Feri perked up.
"C'mon, I'll treat you all to some ice cream galettes." He smirked. "A dessert a day keeps the bastards at bay."
With that, the group made their way downstairs and settled in for their meal at the inn's dining hall.
True to his word, Walter was still around, sitting at another table across the room. Unlike before, he seemed content just drinking and keeping to himself, not even sparing them a glance.
It was almost unsettling how quickly he could switch from predator to laid-back drifter.
But Kress knew better than to lower his guard. Miraculously enough, he managed to focus on his food.
Once dinner came to an end, Van, Agnes, and Feri decided to continue their investigation, using the info about Aida appearing at night multiple times as their main lead. Just as Kress was about to join them, he felt a predatory gaze from behind.
The dyed-blonde teen sighed inwardly.
"Kress? Aren't you coming?"
"…You guys go on ahead," Kress muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'll catch up later."
Van shot him a warning look, but Kress simply nodded. He knew what he was doing.
Agnes hesitated for a moment before following after Van, while Feri looked between Kress and Walter before whispering, "Be careful," and scampering off.
With that, Kress turned fully toward Walter, who was now grinning.
"Heh. Thought you were gonna run off with your friends," The Enforcer mused, taking a sip of his drink. "Guess I underestimated your curiosity."
"Let's get this over with," Kress muttered, sitting across from him. "You wanted to talk. So talk."
"Relax, kid. I just wanted to have a little chat with the son of Torin Hibiki." Walter chuckled, clearly amused.
Kress scowled slightly at the mention of his father, but he didn't rise to the bait.
The Enforcer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "But, since I can tell talking to me is the last thing you wanna do, let's make it fair. I'll let you ask three questions. I'll answer as truthfully as I can."
Kress narrowed his eyes. "And what's stopping you from lying?"
"Nothing," Walter grinned. "But I don't need to lie to mess with you."
The transmigrator sighed but nodded. He had no illusions about getting anything too valuable, but if he could squeeze even a little useful information out of Walter, it'd be worth it.
"Alright. First question," he began, resting his arms on the table. "Have you spotted any Hibiki Clan members around here?"
Walter hummed in thought before shaking his head. "Nope. Haven't seen any... But I did sense someone decently strong up by the hillside. Can't say for sure if they're one of yours, though."
Kress drummed his fingers against the table, filing that piece of information away. "Fine. Second question."
"Shoot."
"What do you know about the Arichi and Kurotaki families?"
"Huh. Thought you'd already know about your own family's branches." Walter raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised.
Kress didn't reply, and after a moment, the Enforcer merely shrugged.
"Well, since you're askin', I'll humor you," Walter took a swig of his booze before continuing, "The Arichi and Kurotaki families are two subsidiary branches of the Hibiki Clan. The Arichi are your martial artists— a bunch of close-combat freaks who specialize in brute force and raw technique."
"And the Kurotaki?"
"They're the killers," The smirk on Walter's face was borderline feral. "The Hibiki Clan's assassination specialists. If the Arichi are the fist, the Kurotaki are the knife sliding between your ribs before you even know what hit you."
Kress nodded slowly, his mind piecing together what little he knew. The Arichi name had already felt familiar, and now that he had a name for the Kurotaki, the same nagging sensation tugged at the back of his mind.
"…I see."
Walter tapped his fingers against his glass. "So? What's your third question?"
Kress met his gaze, pondering his next move. He had one more chance to pry something useful out of the Direwolf.
And he needed to make it count.
"Is the one you're after part of Almata?"
The gloved hand swirling his glass froze, and his eyes narrowed behind his shades, a smirk quickly growing.
"Yeah," He simply answered, fingers tightening around his glass. "Makes sense you would know them. The Hibiki Clan has been cooperating with them."
"Do you know the reason for their alliance?" Kress leaned forward slightly, pressing his luck, only for Walter to raise his hand.
"Sorry, but you ran out of questions to ask," Walter interrupted with a grin, his gaze flickering to the nearby window, and muttered under his breath, "Didn't expect to see a familiar face. She looks like she's seen better days."
Kress didn't register his muttering as he stood up from his seat. "Come on! At least give me a hint."
The Direwolf returned his gaze to the abandoned heir and stared at him for a few moments. Humming, he downed his drink with a satisfied sigh.
"Fine. I'll answer your question..." Standing up from his seat, the Enforcer bared his 'fangs.' "If you can beat me in a fight that is."
For a second, Kress felt like he was standing in front of an apex predator. Every cell in his body screamed for him to back away and flee, yet his body was instinctively frozen by a primal emotion.
Fear.
He couldn't move even if he wanted to. The rebellious and violent spirit he had inherited from the original Keisuke Hibiki couldn't handle the weight brought by Walter's mere intent to fight, yet despite his whole body being frozen, Kress glared back in complete defiance.
The two stared at each other before Walter tore his gaze away with a snort, smirking.
"I thought you were a herbivore pretending to be a predator, but that glare of yours tells me otherwise." Walter adjusted his gloves. He started walking to the door. "I'll tell ya what I know later. We got some shit to deal with."
Right on cue, a howl echoed outside the inn.
Kress ran and followed the Enforcer outside, eyes widening at the sight of military hounds surrounding the village, their eyes glowing an eerie red.
"What the... They don't look like regular military hounds." Kress noted, taking out his Indestructible Silver Baseball Bat.
"Hmph. Whatever they are, they ruined our conversation and my drink." Walter narrowed his gaze forward. "Up ahead, kid!"
Seeing Agnes and the others slowly being cornered, Kress's body moved as if on auto-pilot, dashing into the chaos as he swatted with beasts with his bat. Walter was quick to follow up his attack, appearing next to him as he sent several hounds flying with a single kick.
"T-Thank you for the save, Kress!"
"You guys alright?" Kress asked with a worried look.
"You were right on time," The Spriggan chuckled despite himself, glancing at the sunglasses-wearing man. "Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad to see your ugly mug."
"Hah! That's a first. I oughta frame this moment." He cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as more of the glowing-eyed hounds slinked through the village paths, their eerie red gazes locked onto them. "Now, before we get sentimental, we got a situation here."
Kress glanced around, gripping his bat tightly. The military hounds weren't just surrounding them— they were herding them, closing in from all directions. But there was something off about them.
He frowned, noticing how the ones he knocked down began to get back up. "What's wrong with them?"
"Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me, they're supposed to be dead." The Direwolf shared his thoughts, flexing his fingers. "Arkride. You three should get going. The kid and I can handle these mutts on our own."
Kress blinked at him, surprised at being lumped in with the Enforcer, but he didn't argue. He was already positioning himself, adjusting his stance.
Van hesitated, looking between Walter, Kress, and the growing pack of unnatural hounds. Then, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "All right. We don't have time to get caught up in this. We have a runaway jaeger we still need to catch."
"B-But—!"
"Agnes," Kress cut in, glancing at her. "Go. We'll handle this."
Her lips pressed together, frustration and worry warring in her blue eyes. But after a long moment, she exhaled sharply and nodded. "Fine. Just… don't do anything reckless."
Kress just gave a grin as he watched the three dart toward the direction of the village's hillside.
Walter clapped Kress on the back. "There we go. Just us two now. So, how do you feel about a little extermination job, kid?"
Kress twirled his bat, rolling his neck. "You talk too much."
"I-I managed to take out one of them— Ack! There's more?! And who in blazes are you two—"
The orange-haired martial artist ignored the newcomer and rolled his neck as well.
"Let's go wild, kid!"
Kress and Walter shot forward at the same time, tearing into the incoming wave of hounds.
The first one lunged, its unnaturally glowing red eyes locked onto Kress, but he was faster. His bat swung in a sharp, precise arc, the crack of impact echoing through the village as the hound was sent skidding across the dirt.
Walter, on the other hand, didn't even bother dodging— he met the next beast head-on, his foot smashing into its skull like a cannonball. The sheer force sent it flying into another hound, both of them tumbling across the ground like ragdolls.
"Nice form, kid," Walter smirked, casually stepping over one of the downed creatures. "Got some bite to that swing of yours."
"Less talking, more smashing," Kress shot back, already pivoting to slam his bat into another. The hound tried to twist away, but he followed up with a brutal kick to the ribs, sending it sprawling.
"Sheesh, and here I thought you'd loosen up after a few swings," Walter chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "But these mutts just don't know when to stay down."
True to his words, the hounds they had just knocked away were already starting to move again. Some had bones sticking out at unnatural angles, and their limbs were clearly broken, yet they still stood, their glowing red eyes fixated on them.
"Yeah… that's not normal," Kress muttered, gritting his teeth. "Looks like we gotta tear them apart if we want them to stay down."
"Music to my ears." Walter's grin widened. "Let's make it messy."
Before they could charge again, a voice called out.
"You two!"
Both turned to look at the newcomer, who had reacted earlier as he looked at them with suspicion and exasperation.
"Why is an Enforcer of all people fighting alongside some random thug-looking kid? Scratch that, why are you two even here?"
Walter just snorted, clearly entertained. "Relax, bracer. We're the cavalry. And unless you want those things running loose through the village, I suggest you start focusing on keeping the townsfolk safe instead of questioning my morals."
Alvis narrowed his eyes but quickly turned his attention back to the hounds that were slowly advancing again. "Tch... Fine! But if either of you pulls anything shady, I'll cut you down myself!"
"Big words, but we'll see if you can keep up," Walter quipped, before shifting into a stance. "Now get moving."
Alvis clicked his tongue but nodded, dashing off. Kress watched him go for only a moment before turning back to the real problem.
"Alright, time to turn these bastards into mincemeat," Walter said, rolling his shoulders. "Stand back, kid. I'm about to make a mess."
Kress stepped to the side, watching as the Enforcer took a deep breath before planting his foot into the ground. And then— he moved.
Walter kicked off the dirt with such force that the ground beneath him cracked. In an instant, he spun on his heel, his movements so fast they became a blur.
A whirlwind of razor-sharp wind pressure erupted from his feet, the sheer velocity of his spinning kicks creating multiple shockwaves that cut through the hounds like a barrage of invisible blades. The closest creatures were instantly sliced apart, their bodies reduced to nothing but scattered pieces of fur and metal.
Even the hounds further back weren't spared—their limbs were severed mid-motion, some of them completely obliterated before they could react.
When Walter finally came to a stop, he huffed, hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. "Hah… Too easy."
Kress fought back a shudder at the sight. "You're terrifying, you know that?"
Walter grinned. "Thanks."
More growls echoed from deeper in the village. The remaining hounds, still undeterred, were beginning to regroup— filling the streets like a wave of darkness.
"Looks like we're just getting started," Kress muttered, gripping his bat. "Guess it's my turn to show off."
The dyed-blonde transmigrator didn't hesitate in using his Menacing Aura to weaken all of the military hounds that he could see. Pivoting his heel, he hurled his bat forward with Baseball Physics.
The bat whistled through the air, spinning at an impossible angle. It curved past one hound, then ricocheted off a nearby wall— only to slam into another hound's exposed joint, shattering it on impact.
The force carried it through, striking three more in succession before snapping back toward Kress's open palm. And with seamless control, he caught the bat mid-spin.
A grin crossed Walter's face as he sliced another batch of hounds with his Razor Hurricane, muttering, "Interesting."
The onslaught continued. Yet no matter how many they destroyed, the hounds just kept getting up.
"They just don't quit," Kress groaned, grinding his teeth as he crushed another one underfoot.
Even the Direwolf, known for his love of fighting, was getting annoyed. "This is starting to be a pain in the ass."
As if their complaints were heard, gunshots railed down the incoming horde of military beasts.
Kress and Walter turned their heads just in time to see a new force pushing into the village, their movements sharp, coordinated, and ruthlessly efficient. At the front of the charge was a towering, middle-aged man with chiseled features, sandy brown hair, and piercing pale blue eyes.
"Jaegers?" Kress muttered under his breath.
Walter simply grinned, watching the newcomers carve through the undead hounds.
"Heh heh. We can leave things to them."
"Huh?"
Kress barely had time to react as he felt himself get hoisted up like a sack of potatoes, slinging over Walter's shoulder.
"Wha—PUT ME DOWN!"
Walter ignored him, turning toward the hills. "No can do, kid. We've got a prey to catch."
Kress twisted and struggled, but Walter held him in place like he weighed nothing. In a burst of speed, Walter kicked off the ground, taking Kress along for the ride.
It didn't take long for the two to arrive at a stone formation on top of the hill, spotting Van and the other... along with unwanted company.
A young man with bright turquoise hair and crimson eyes stood at one of the stone pillars with a lazy slouch, idly twirling a small red knife between his fingers. His outfit— a long sleeveless black coat over a white cross-patterned shirt, belts hanging loosely off his grey trousers— gave him an almost playful appearance.
But there was nothing playful about the aura he gave off.
Walter's eyes narrowed into a glare. "There you are, bastard!"
With a flick of his leg, Walter delivered a devastating kick to one of the stone pillars—shattering it in half. The turquoise-haired man vaulted away effortlessly, landing on another pillar as the broken stone collapsed beneath him.
At the same time, Walter tossed Kress to the ground—unceremoniously.
Kress twisted mid-air, barely managing to land on his feet, but he still shot the Enforcer a glare.
"Did you have to throw me like that?!"
"Sorry but priorities."
"Kress!" Agnes's relieved voice called out.
"Are you okay?" Feri added, concern in her tone.
"You two sure have good timing," Van remarked, rolling his shoulder as he surveyed the situation
"We just finished putting a good chunk of those mutts to the ground. Then, some timely help came along, so we left the village in their capable hands," The martial artist explained, then turned his head toward his prey. "I finally found you. Enjoying your life as a mafia exec, I take it?"
"Indeed! Well met, Enforcer No. VIII. I didn't think I'd run into you here." The crimson-eyed man smiled playfully, yet malice oozed from it. "You'll have to excuse me, though. Word on the street says you play very rough."
"Hey, don't be shy! I'm not gonna bite ya... as long as you quite draggin' out this game of keep away."
"Mm... I'll pass. I'm not into your type, unfortunately." His eyes crinkled with an unpleasant shine, clapping his hands. Oh, Horobi, if you would?"
"Understood, Melchior."
Instincts screamed at Kress's body to move, and it did as he backed away, avoiding a set of needles that nearly struck him... and his shadow.
Walter ignored the projectiles, lunging at Melchior instead. His foot lashed out, but the man twisted away with an effortless, inhuman grace before making his escape.
The stone pillar shattered under the force of Walter's kick, sending debris flying. Among the falling rubble, a strange device with a red glow tumbled to the ground.
"Come back here, you little bitch!" The Direwolf landed, immediately pivoting to give chase—but another set of shimmering needles sliced through the air, forcing him to halt. "Knock your poor excuse of Shadow Weaving off, you goddamn punk!"
"How hurtful. It seems Ouroboros's Enforcers are more capable than I thought."
From the shadows cast by the stone pillars, a man wearing a dark suit stepped forward as his black hair, reaching his chin, fluttered. In his gloved grasps were long needle-like daggers.
But that wasn't the most unusual thing about the man.
His eyes remained shut, yet his wide, creeping smile never wavered.
Walter noticed the Hibiki Clan emblem on his suit, and so did Kress, both narrowing their gazes.
"Looks like we found who you were looking for, kid."
The transmigrator stepped forward, keeping his guard up as he held his bat. "It isn't been easy trying to get info on you guys. Horobi, was it? Why don't you do me a solid and spill what the hell the Hibiki Clan is up to?
"Oh?" The smiling man tilted his head. "And why should I do that, good-for-nothing Young Master?"
Kress's grip on his bat tightened. His entire body tensed— not just from the insult, but from the way the man said it.
"H-How could you say that?" Agnes couldn't help but whisper, eyes filling with emotion as she took a step forward. "Aren't you supposed to be family—?!"
"Wait, Agnes!"
Van stepped in front of Agnes, deflecting a set of needles just in time. He glared at the smiling man. "Dirty cheat."
"It seems you've befriended quite the naïve young lady, haven't you, useless Young Master?" Horobi leaped onto one of the remaining stone pillars. "I'll provide an answer if you catch me... and survive what's to come next."
Kress wouldn't be given the chance to speak as Aida screamed at the top of her lungs, red light engulfing her being.
When the light faded, a bluish and large ghoul stood in her place.
"Oh, you're not going to get away from me!" The Direwolf kicked off his feat and chased after Horobi, who had begun to make his escape.
Kress gritted his teeth, eyes darting between Horobi's retreating form and the ghoul that had once been Aida.
His instincts screamed at him to chase Horobi. The bastard had just thrown down a challenge—daring him to follow, daring him to demand the answers he had come all this way for.
But then there was Agnes and the others.
The monstrous thing standing before them wasn't just some ordinary foe. It pulsed with unnatural energy, radiating pure malice. If left unchecked, it could rip apart the village— tear through the people who had nothing to do with any of this.
He had to choose.
Go after Horobi.
Or stay behind and fight.
Walter had already taken off, pursuing Horobi without hesitation, vanishing into the distance.
Kress clenched his jaw. Damn it.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder.
"Go."
The Spriggan smirked slightly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "This is what you came here for, isn't it? You didn't come all this way just to fight some undead horror." He tilted his head toward the monstrous ghoul, its soulless eye locking onto them. "We can handle this."
Kress hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Van huffed, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, please. I've dealt with worse. Besides, if you stick around, I get the feeling you'd be too distracted worrying about that guy running loose."
Agnes, standing beside Van, still looked hesitant. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on her orbal staff, but after a moment, she nodded. "Just… promise you'll come back in one piece."
His lips opened... but chose to shut themselves instead, nodding.
Without a word, he turned on his heel and sprinted after Walter, leaving Van, Agnes, and Feri behind to deal with the abomination.
Kress tore through the underbrush, his breath coming in short, sharp exhales as he pursued Horobi. The rustling of leaves and snapping twigs beneath his boots were the only sounds accompanying the pounding of his heartbeat.
His grip on his bat was tight, knuckles whitening. He wasn't going to let this bastard slip away.
The dense canopy above allowed only slivers of moonlight to filter through, casting shadows along the forest path. It was the perfect terrain for an assassin.
And sure enough, perched atop a large boulder at the treeline, waiting, was Horobi.
The man stood with his usual unsettling smile, idly twirling his needle-like daggers between gloved fingers. But something felt off.
Kress's eyes flicked around the clearing, scanning for any sign of Walter. Nothing.
His jaw clenched. "…Where's Direwolf?"
Horobi hummed, tilting his head in mock curiosity. "Ah, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice." His hand gestured lazily toward the deeper part of the forest. "That brute of a man likely ran after his true prey when he spotted him from a distance."
Kress clicked his tongue, annoyed but understanding Walter had his own priorities.
Which meant now… it was just him and Horobi.
The assassin's smirk stretched wider, a flicker of amusement glinting behind his shut eyes. "Looks like it's just us now, useless Young Master."
Kress took a step forward, his expression twisting with fury. "I've had enough of your bullshit. Start talking. What the hell is the Hibiki Clan planning with Almata?"
Horobi gave a slow, sarcastic clap. "Oh, very nice! You even tried to sound intimidating."
Kress tensed. There was something off about the way he said that.
But it was already too late.
His muscles locked up.
His breath caught in his throat, panic briefly seizing his mind as his body refused to obey him.
A sinking realization hit him as his eyes darted downward.
A single, glistening needle was embedded in the shadow beneath his feet.
Horobi took a slow step forward, grinning. He laughed— a twisted, sadistic cackle that echoed through the trees.
"AHAHAHA! You really are just a brainless fool, aren't you?!"
Kress's jaw clenched as he fought against the paralysis, but it was useless. His limbs wouldn't budge.
"Honestly, what were you thinking? Confronting an assassin of the Kurotaki family alone?" Horobi sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his forehead as if truly exasperated. His voice dropped to a mocking whisper. "Did you really think I'd just start answering your questions?"
Kress strained against his own body, fingers twitching as he desperately tried to move. Horobi's grin never wavered as he crouched slightly, twirling his needles between his fingers.
"Oh dear, I can feel you struggling. How adorable."
A flick of his wrist, then came pain. Kress barely had time to register the glint of silver before a second needle embedded itself into the back of his hand.
His grip faltered. The bat was knocked out of his grasp, sending it flying into the darkness of his surroundings.
Horobi snerered, "Oh no. Your precious little toy is gone. Whatever will you do?"
Kress glared daggers at him, but Horobi only laughed harder at his helplessness. Faster than he could react, Horobi closed the distance.
A brutal kick slammed into Kress's stomach, knocking the air from his lungs as he was launched off his feet. The world blurred as his back collided with the dirt, his body rolling before coming to an abrupt stop against the base of a tree.
The footsteps came next. Slow. Unhurried. Mocking. Horobi loomed over him, daggers twirling lazily in his grasp.
"Don't tell me that was enough to put you down…" He sighed, then wiggled his fingers. "Come on now. I want to see you actually put up a fight."
Kress's teeth ground together, his entire body screaming in protest as he forced himself to move.
Every inhale burned. Every movement sent sharp jolts of agony through his ribs. With a ragged breath, he slammed a fist into the dirt, pushing himself up.
"I don't care how many times you knock me down— I'm not done yet! NOW ANSWER ME!" He roared and charged without thinking.
One step. Two steps. He threw his fist forward, aiming to wipe that smug grin off Horobi's damn face.
The assassin chuckled.
"Ahh, there it is."
Pain exploded through Kress's side. Horobi's knee slammed into his ribs— the impact reverberating through his body. Kress gasped, eyes widening, but before he could react, another kick struck his chest, sending him tumbling across the dirt like a ragdoll.
He barely had time to choke out a breath before Horobi's voice cut through the haze.
"You're really not very bright, are you, Young Master?"
Horobi let out a mock sigh as he dusted himself off, then took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"Fine, fine. You're so desperate for answers? I'll humor you." With twisted amusement, he continued. "The goal is simple— crush Heiyue, take control of Calvard's underworld, and bring the Hibiki Clan to the pinnacle of power. All for the great glory of your father's reign!"
Kress's breath hitched. His fingers curled into the dirt.
Horobi savored the moment, watching for a reaction. Shock. Rage. Denial. Those were the emotions he expected to see on his face.
What he didn't expect was for Kress to smirk.
Horobi's grin faltered.
Kress exhaled sharply, shaking off the dirt as he rose to his feet.
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he hadn't just been thrown around like a ragdoll moments ago.
"Thanks for the info." The dyed-blonde teen tilted his head, his smirk never fading. "Man, you were really getting into it, huh? You must be the type that just loves kicking people when they're down."
Horobi said nothing. But his fingers tightened around his daggers.
Kress chuckled lowly, dusting himself off. "You know when I first saw you, I figured you were annoying. But now? You're just predictable."
"You—!"
-MISSION COMPLETE-
[S-Craft Acquired!]
-Essence of the Thug: Violence-
Kress's body burned with newfound energy, his fingers curling as power surged through his veins. Kress's smirk widened.
"Your turn to be on the receiving end, asshole."
Slugger shifted to Thug— Cunning Thug was now active.
His hands stayed open, fingers twitching in anticipation. His body lowered slightly, his weight shifting in a way that screamed unpredictability.
"Oh? So the useless Young Master finally decided to bare his fangs?" Horobi noticed the change immediately. His usual grin had long since vanished, replaced by wary observation.
"You're the one who wanted me to fight, right? You should be happy."
Horobi scoffed before vanishing in a blur. A dagger whistled through the air, aimed straight for Kress's chest. But just as it reached its intended target, the transmigrator managed to dodge it by simply tilting his body to the side. Smirking, he vanished.
Demonic Step.
He circled behind the assassin's weak spot in an instant before his fist slammed into Horobi's side with crushing force. The assassin staggered, a wheeze escaping him as the impact rattled his ribs. But Kress didn't stop there.
Following up instantly, he drove his knee into Horobi's stomach, then snapped his leg up, launching a savage kick into his chin. The assassin's body lurched backward, but Kress was already on him.
A brutal right hook. A vicious elbow to the jaw. A stomp that nearly caved in his stance.
Each strike was ugly. Unrefined. Brutal.
But every hit landed.
And every hit hurt.
Kress's Cunning Thug skill was in full effect, exploiting Horobi's openings and making use of his environment like a predator toying with cornered prey. His Menacing Aura began to affect the Kurotaki assassin, and it showed through the weak points Kress spotted through Predator's Eye.
"What's wrong?" Kress sneered, his voice laced with adrenaline. "Weren't you laughing earlier? Where's all that confidence now?"
Horobi gritted his teeth, flicking his wrist to send another needle flying, only for Kress to dodge again. Demonic Step activated, and this time, the teen grabbed the assassin by the collar and slammed him face-first into the dirt.
The assassin let out a muffled snarl, but Kress didn't give him time to recover. Kress yanked Horobi up by the collar and slammed his knee into his gut— once, twice, three times— before grabbing a fistful of his hair and bashing his face against his knee as blood splattered across the ground.
Thug Style wasn't about grace. It wasn't about technique.
It was about winning. By any means necessary.
Kress smirked and spat to the side. "Not so fun when you're the one getting toyed with, huh?"
Horobi lurched forward, dagger flashing as he swung. Unfazed, Kress used the back of his hand to parry one of his swings before grabbing a handful of dirt, throwing it straight into the man's face.
"Gah—!" Horobi recoiled, instinctively raising his hands to his burning eyes.
A devilish grin flickered across the delinquent's face despite his groans. He could already feel the damage he tanked earlier start to catch up. As much as he wanted to pry more information out of Horobi, it was clear that the man would kill him if he saw the opportunity.
He needed to end things. NOW.
"Congratulations," His voice dripped with insincerity. "You'll be the first one to taste a premium beatdown!"
As the power of Essence of the Thug: Violence surged through him, his body became a blur of brutal, unrelenting strikes.
His fists crashed into Horobi's face. His knees slammed into his ribs. His boots crushed into his legs.
There was no elegance. No form. Only raw, unfiltered savagery.
Each blow sent Horobi reeling, his body jerking under the sheer force. His sickening grin was long gone, replaced by a bloody snarl. Kress grabbed him by the collar and drove his forehead into his nose. A sickening CRACK echoed through the night.
One punch. Two. Five. Ten.
He started to lose count.
But he didn't stop— He couldn't stop.
"Drop dead!"
Purple and red ghastly streams of energy rose from Kress's battered frame like steam. With a final, monstrous roundhouse kick, Kress sent Horobi crashing into the ground. The assassin skidded back, barely stopping himself from flipping over.
Kress panted heavily, his knuckles dripping with blood. The pain was starting to spread, becoming more apparent as he clutched his side.
He was badly injured, but it should be over—
"...So this is the level you're at."
Horobi staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly but still standing. His head tilted, his usual grin creeping back into place. His suit was torn, his face bruised, but his voice was steady.
Kress gritted his teeth, but then his body betrayed him. "Crap...!"
A sharp pain shot through his ribs. His vision blurred for a moment. His legs wobbled. Kress barely had time to register movement before a white-hot pain tore through his shoulder.
His body lurched backward as Horobi's needle-like dagger pierced flesh, locking him in place like a pinned insect.
"Too bad, Young Master. You almost had me there. Almost." The assassin leaned and whispered, thick with amusement. "Well, it's been fun, but I'm afraid this is where we part wa—"
A metallic whir sliced through the air. Then, in a blink, a scythe's chain coiled around Horobi's wrist, yanking his weapon away.
The teen's body slumped slightly as the blade was ripped from his shoulder. He barely registered the pain over the pounding in his skull.
"Step away from the Young Master, Black Mamba."
The familiar voice was followed up by the sound of sharp metal flying through the air as the sound of someone leaping away registered in Kress's ears.
"Tch. I should've known. But tell me, Hikaru… what will your dear teacher say when she hears about this?"
Kress's hazy version saw Hikaru's familiar figure, pink gaze burning in quiet fury. The last thing he heard was her voice as the pain gradually took over.
"That is of no concern to you. Leave now before I tear your head off your shoulder."
His body crumpled forward, and his world faded to black.
-SPECIAL MISSION ADDED-
[Bearing the Weight on One's Back]
Yeah, that bug was essentially useless, huh? Kress is going to get so grilled by Hikaru next chapter, but maybe... MOVING ON, sorry that this chapter was more Kress-focused and didn't show off the Solutions Office side much. Don't worry, the actual collaboration will be happening during the Langport/Tyrant Arc. The Hibiki Clan's presence will be more apparent, naturally, heh.
KRESS'S SKILL CORNER:
-Motorbike Expert-
[Grants the user the knowledge and skills to drive an orbal bike. Can utilize a bike to perform certain attacks.]