The television inside Kalmas house buzzed with a frantic, grainy energy, a stark contrast to the serene, sun-drenched calm of the farmhouse kitchen. A news anchor, her face a mask of professionally cultivated alarm, pointed to a map of the Gobi Desert hinterlands behind her.
"…absolute devastation. Early reports confirm the entire encampment of the 'Scorpion Tail' syndicate, a B-rank criminal hunter organization known for its brutal extortion rackets, has been completely eradicated. Satellite imagery shows the area scorched to glass and ash. The cause?" She paused for dramatic effect. "Witnesses, from a terrified few who managed to flee, speak of a single figure wreathed in golden fire descending upon them like a biblical plague. The Guild Master's office has officially attributed the attack to… the Flame Demon."
Fifteen-year-old Yuhon Kalmas paused, a spoonful of steaming congee halfway to his mouth, his eyes glued to the screen. Images switched to blurred, long-range footage—a inferno of brilliant, sun-like gold consuming prefab buildings and vehicles, the flames moving with a terrifying, sentient hunger.
"Concurrent with this attack," the anchor continued, her voice dropping an octave, "the financial holdings of three associated syndicates were simultaneously drained through untraceable digital channels. The signature is unmistakable. The Abyssal Witch was also involved. The 'Disaster Duo' has struck again, leaving the criminal underworld in a state of panic and the Hunter's Guild scrambling for answers."
Yuhon let out a low, impressed whistle. "They're so cool."
At the stove, his mother, Aoqi, turned, a gentle smile on her elegant face. She was tall and lean, her movements as fluid as water as she flipped a scallion pancake in the cast-iron pan. "What's that, dear?"
"The Disaster Duo, Mom!" Yuhon said, pointing his spoon at the TV. "They just turned some big-shot bad guy camp into a parking lot. Again! The Flame Demon's fire… it's so… absolute. And the Abyssal Witch's hacking skills are legendary. Nobody can trace her. They're like ghosts!"
His father, Zerkon, looked up from the agricultural report he was reading at the table. He was a mountain of a man, his broad shoulders and thick forearms testament to a life of honest labor. He took a sip of his tea, his expression one of mild curiosity. "Hmm. Sounds messy. All that fire in a desert. Probably bad for the cacti." He shook his head, a frown of genuine concern on his features. "Reckless."
Aoqi tsked softly in agreement, bringing the plate of golden-brown pancakes to the table. "And so violent. All that looting and such. It's just not civilized. Though," she added, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "I did read that the Scorpion Tail group was causing a lot of trouble for the small villages out west. Raising 'protection' fees on water convoys. Nasty business."
"See? They're like twisted heroes!" Yuhon argued, his eyes alight with excitement. "They only go after the worst of the worst! The hunters who became criminals! They're the mafia that preys on other mafias! How awesome is that?"
Zerkon chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound like distant thunder. "Focus on your breakfast, son. Heroes, villains… it's all just noise. Real strength is in a good day's work and providing for your family." He tore into a pancake with gusto. "Speaking of which, the south field needs weeding after school. The carrots are getting crowded."
Yuhon sighed, deflating slightly. His parents were the best, truly. Kind, strong, and they'd given him the most peaceful and happy childhood anyone could ask for on their little farm, nestled in the rolling, green hills far from any major city. But they were so… normal. They didn't get it. They didn't feel the pull of the power that thrummed under his own skin, the same kind of power the legends on the TV wielded.
He finished his congee quickly. "Right. Weeding. Okay. I'm off."
"Have a good first day at your new school, Yuhon!" Aoqi said, smoothing down his shirt collar. "Remember, just keep your head down and focus on your studies. A good basic education is important."
"I know, Mom."
"And no showing off," Zerkon added, his tone casual but his eyes holding a glint of serious warning. "To everyone there, you're just a farm kid. A commoner. We're just simple people."
Yuhon nodded. "I know, Dad." The rule had been drilled into him since he could remember. His powers were a family secret. No flames, no lightning, no frost. Just Yuhon. Normal Yuhon.
He shouldered his backpack and stepped out into the bright morning air. The Kalmas farm was a picture of rustic perfection: a two-story wooden house, a large barn, fields of vibrant vegetables, and a small orchard. It was a world away from the scorched deserts and high-tech heists on the news.
As he began the pleasant thirty-minute walk to the town and his new school, Hongxing High, his mind wandered back to the Disaster Duo. Why did they do it? The loot, obviously. They were the world's most successful mafia, after all. But was that all? There had to be a thrill to it, a purpose. To walk into the lion's den, to unleash impossible power while hiding your true face from the world… it was the ultimate secret identity.
A grin spread across his face. An idea, wild and hilarious, began to form. He couldn't go after S-rank guilds, obviously. He was fifteen. But what about something small? Something local. His parents had said to keep a low profile, to be normal. They hadn't said anything about doing a little discreet, heroic mafia work on the side, right? A disguise would be key. Nobody could ever know.
His new school was a modest, three-story building bustling with students. He was instantly invisible, just another new face in a sea of uniforms. He went through the motions: homeroom, introductions, basic history, and mathematics. It was all mind-numbingly simple. He'd mastered quantum mechanics theory by age ten. This was… quaint.
During lunch, he sat alone under a tree in the courtyard, observing. His heightened senses, even when suppressed, picked up snippets of conversations. Most were about music, crushes, and weekend plans. But one group of older students, huddled near the bleachers, was talking in hushed, agitated tones.
"…my dad's store. Again," one boy said, his fists clenched. "They came in last night, after closing. Took the week's earnings. Told him the 'protection' fee had gone up."
"The Black Pigeons?" another asked, looking nervous.
"Who else? Since they set up their 'youth recruitment' branch here, it's been nothing but trouble. They're just a bunch of D-rank washouts, but they've got numbers. And nobody stands up to them."
Yuhon's interest was piqued. The Black Pigeons. He'd heard the name. A low-level gang of aspiring hunters who failed the guild exams and turned to petty crime. They were bullies. The lowest of the low.
A target.
The rest of the school day passed in a blur of planning. This was perfect. A small-time gang, terrorizing his new town. It was almost like fate. He wouldn't scorch them to ash—that was overkill. But a little scare? A… redistribution of their ill-gotten gains? Now that would be a proper debut.
He walked home with a new spring in his step, his mind racing with possibilities. He spent the afternoon weeding the carrot field with a focused efficiency, his body working on autopilot while his spirit was elsewhere, designing a costume in his mind's eye.
After a dinner where his parents asked about his uneventful day at school ("It was fine, pretty boring actually."), Yuhon retreated to his room. He waited until the house was quiet, the only sounds the chirping of crickets and the distant lowing of their single contented cow.
From the back of his closet, he pulled out an old black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans. Not exactly legendary, but it would do for now. The most important part was the mask. He rummaged through his art supplies and found a plain, white ceramic face mask he'd once used for a project. With a steady hand and a black marker, he drew a simple, stylized design: a mischievous, grinning fox.
He held it up to his face and looked in the mirror. A boy in a hoodie stared back, but the eyes that looked through the holes of the grinning fox mask glinted with blue and scarlet energy. It was a start. He wasn't the Flame Demon or the Abyssal Witch. He was something else. Something new.
He slipped his window open silently, the night air cool on his skin. A faint silver frost crystallized on the windowsill under his fingertips before he consciously stopped it.
"Just a simple farm kid," he whispered to himself, a wide, excited grin spreading beneath the mask. "Yeah, right."
With a movement too fast for any normal eye to see, he dropped from the second story, landing in a silent crouch in the hydrangea bushes below. He pulled his hood up, the grinning fox mask now his only face.
He looked up "Let's go for some pest control..."