Michael was furious—an anger that refused to stay contained no matter how much he tried to clamp it down. The moment he saw Vashir standing there with that irritatingly calm face, everything inside him twisted. He realized that every single problem he had been drowning in had been born from this man's manipulations. Rage erupted out of him before he could stop himself, spilling like fire.
"You're the reason behind everything that's happening right now! Fine, forget that—just tell me where I am. What is this place? Where have you brought me?" he shouted.
Instead of answering like a normal damned person, Vashir let out a sly, needling laugh that made Michael's blood boil even hotter.
"Michael," Vashir said, "after seeing how you handled them, I thought you were quite an impressive guy. But now I see I was wrong."
Michael snapped instantly, glaring. "What do you mean? Are you mocking me?"
But Vashir remained irritatingly calm. "Mocking you? No. You still don't understand yourself."
That confused Michael more than anything in this endless dark void. He couldn't understand what the hell Vashir was talking about.
"This is your inner state, Michael," Vashir continued. "You're inside yourself."
For a moment, Michael's mind froze. The idea sounded insane, impossible… yet Vashir said it as if it were the simplest truth in the world.
Michael stared around him, disbelief twisting through him. The endless darkness stretched forever, with no walls, no roof, no ground he could trust. His face stayed blank, but something crawled inside his chest—fear… or something far worse.
"What are you looking at, Michael?" Vashir said. "This is your mental state—boundless, filled only with anger, pain, revenge, and emptiness."
Then Vashir raised his left hand. An ancient, rotten-looking door materialized out of nothing—a door so old and wrong that simply seeing it made Michael's bones tremble.
"What is that?" he asked.
"I don't know exactly," Vashir replied, eyes narrowing. "But I do sense one thing. Something is there—something that could terrify the world—is waiting for the right moment to appear."
Michael stared at the door. His heart pounded. A sharp pain ripped through his skull, vicious enough to feel like something was trying to split his mind apart.
What is that door? Just looking at it is making my head explode!
He clutched his head in agony until Vashir used his Mind Chakra to calm him. Only when Michael's breath steadied did Vashir speak again.
"Now you won't face any more problems, thanks to my power. It's connected to my Mind Chakra. As long as you have my assistance with you, nothing can harm you."
Michael glared at him. "If I'm inside my own mind, then why are you here?"
Vashir laughed softly, as if this were a game only he understood.
"You have so many questions, Michael. Why I put you in this mess. What's really going on. Even here, in your own mental state, you're still gripping me by the throat with that curiosity."
Michael said nothing. He simply waited.
Vashir's tone dropped, turning heavier and colder.
"Do you remember the time Victor asked you to retrieve some data for him? Have you ever wondered what that data was about?"
Michael frowned. "What kind of question is that? Obviously, it was for business."
That made Vashir burst into a dark, mocking laugh.
"Business? What a fantastic hunting dog you've become."
Michael's jaw tightened, anger flaring again. But Vashir didn't stop.
"That data… it contained everything about you—and your father. Who he really is."
The words hit Michael like a physical blow. His fury exploded, shaking the entire inner world around them. The ancient door trembled, shadows leaking out, reacting to the storm inside him.
"Wait, boy!" Vashir shouted. "I'm not finished talking! Just wait!"
But Michael's rage wouldn't stop.
Then Vashir said it—quietly, too quietly to sound real.
"Hammer Saint… that's your father."
Michael couldn't speak. Couldn't move. His mind went blank and burning at the same time.
Vashir stepped closer and whispered, "When you meet him, tell him…"
Then he leaned in and murmured something—cryptic, chilling, something that punched a hole straight through Michael's chest.
Right after those words, the entire inner world cracked. Shadows burst through the ancient door like a living storm ready to devour everything. Vashir lifted his hand, pushing back the tide with all his strength.
Then he shoved Michael out of the collapsing world.
"Hang on until then, kid!" he yelled as the void shattered.
---
Michael woke with a violent jolt, like someone had ripped him out of hell. His breath came rough, his face twisted in discomfort, and the first thing that hit him was the stench—rotting sewage dripping into stagnant water, rats scraping across damp stone.
He realized he was lying inside an old, decaying prison buried deep underground.
"Where am I?" he muttered, checking his hands—no restraints, no chains, nothing holding him.
The memories hit him one by one.
The arena.
The fight.
The man who knocked him out.
And Vashir.
"So all these years you're the one I have been searching for," Michael whispered coldly.
A loud CRASH! rang out as the prison bars slammed like clashing swords. Michael looked up.
The same man who had knocked him out stood before him, smiling like he was greeting an old friend.
Michael stared at him. "Well, nice timing. I really needed someone to explain what's going on."
The man chuckled. "You've got real guts. Makes me start to think you really might be Hammer Saint's son."
Michael's mind sharpened. This man knew something—something tied to his father.
He straightened. "Even if you accept it or not… I am."
A small, sharp smile tugged at his lips.
The man's expression hardened. He unlocked the gate, swung it open, and said:
"Follow me quietly. Don't try anything funny."
Michael followed without a word.
They climbed a long spiral staircase—stone steps stretching endlessly upward, minute after minute, until nearly an hour seemed to pass. Only then did a faint beam of light appear.
They emerged at the surface.
And there it stood.
A massive palace rose before him—monumental, majestic, dripping with power. A monument to arrogance. A monument to the world Michael was being dragged into.
Every step he took carried him deeper into something far bigger than revenge