The moment the first punch was thrown, the silence of the alley shattered.
The mafia thugs lunged forward all at once—blades, rods, and clenched fists moving with brutal intent. There was no warning, no hesitation. They had already decided that both the old man and the boy would not walk away alive.
Charlie reacted on instinct.
His body moved faster than his thoughts.
A thug rushed him from the side—Charlie grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the ground with overwhelming force. Another came from behind; Charlie turned and drove his fist straight into the man's chest, sending him crashing backward.
Raw strength. Pure power.
But no control.
A few meters away, the old man moved very differently.
Where Charlie relied on force, the old man relied on precision.
A thug swung a blade—
The old man stepped inside the arc of the attack, twisted the man's wrist, and dropped him with a single strike to the neck.
Another charged—
A slight shift of the foot. A calm palm strike. The thug collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
No wasted motion.
No unnecessary strength.
Charlie noticed it—even while fighting.
He's not rushing…
How is he doing this so calmly?
Charlie punched harder, faster—but the more force he used, the faster his breathing became uneven. Sweat rolled down his face. His movements began to lose rhythm.
The old man glanced at him mid-fight.
"Calm your mind," he said calmly, as if this wasn't a battlefield.
"Don't panic."
Charlie blocked a strike and shoved the attacker away.
"How can anyone stay calm," Charlie snapped, "when they're fighting so many people at once?!"
The old man struck another thug down before replying.
"Then you must first be sure of yourself," he said.
"Sure that you can fight them."
Charlie frowned, barely hearing him.
"If you panic," the old man continued, "you won't be able to fight properly—no matter how much power you have."
Those words struck deeper than any punch.
Charlie gritted his teeth.
He forced himself to breathe.
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
His heartbeat steadied.
The old man glanced at him again.
"Also," he added, "don't hit so hard."
Charlie blinked. "What?"
"You'll only exhaust yourself faster."
Another thug charged.
This time, Charlie didn't swing wildly.
He moved.
A short step. A controlled punch. Then another.
Less force—
More precision.
Something changed.
Charlie found himself taking down multiple enemies in succession. His movements became smoother. His breathing steadier. His strength—more efficient.
Nearby, the old man finished the remaining thugs with effortless dominance.
Within moments, bodies lay scattered across the alley.
Only one group remained standing.
At the back, the mafia leader Yosuke clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Tch… annoying."
Only one man now stood between them.
Kiro.
His arms twisted unnaturally, transforming into long, gleaming blades. Metal-like edges shimmered under the dim light.
Charlie stared.
"What the hell… is that?"
The old man's eyes narrowed.
"That," he said calmly, "is his ability."
Charlie & Old Man vs Kiro
Kiro moved first.
His blades slashed through the air with terrifying speed.
Charlie and the old man attacked together—perfectly timed combo strikes. The old man targeted Kiro's upper body while Charlie aimed for openings below.
But Kiro blocked every strike.
Countered every move.
The clash of metal echoed through the alley.
The old man engaged Kiro in close-range combat—hand to hand, blade to palm, step to step.
Charlie circled.
The legs…
He lunged, repeatedly targeting Kiro's lower body.
Kiro adjusted.
Suddenly, he unleashed a massive horizontal slash aimed at the old man.
The old man leapt back—but—
At the same moment, Charlie charged forward, twisting his body and throwing a devastating punch straight toward Kiro's face.
Too close.
Too reckless.
In a flash—
KSHHH!
Kiro severed Charlie's arm mid-swing.
Blood sprayed.
Before Charlie could react, Kiro grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall with monstrous force.
Charlie's vision blurred.
Yosuke laughed in delight.
"Well done, Kiro."
The old man barely avoided the powerful slash—but the strain showed. His breathing grew heavier.
Yosuke sneered.
"Looks like your little mouse has fallen."
"There's still time, old man. Tell us where the sword is."
The old man spat blood and smiled faintly.
"Go to hell."
Yosuke's face twisted with rage.
"Cut off his other hand."
Kiro stepped forward.
One step.
Then—he stopped.
A blade rested against his neck.
A calm voice spoke from behind.
"Move," the voice said, "and your head will fall in less than a second."
Yosuke's eyes widened.
"What—?! How did he get here?!"
The old man smiled.
Kiro tensed—but Yosuke raised his hand.
"Kiro. We're leaving."
Reluctantly, they retreated.
As they walked away, Yosuke glanced back.
"You survived today," he said coldly.
"But I'll return. And next time, I will find the sword."
The old man replied calmly,
"Try as much as you want. You'll never find it."
They vanished into the shadows.
The old man turned.
"You arrived at the right time," he said.
"Ryujin."
A young swordsman stood there.
"Grandfather," Ryujin said. "You shouldn't have come out alone."
"Don't worry about me," the old man replied—his eyes shifting to Charlie's unconscious body.
"…Will you help me?"
Evening had already settled in.
Charlie slowly opened his eyes.
For a few seconds, his vision was blurred. His head throbbed as he pushed himself up from the bed and sat upright. He looked around, confused.
"…Where am I?"
The room was unfamiliar—simple, quiet, and strangely calm.
Then his gaze fell on his arm.
The arm that had been severed.
It was completely restored.
Charlie stared at it in disbelief, flexing his fingers.
"…It regenerated."
Still shaken, he stood up and opened the door, stepping outside the room.
In the next room, the old man sat calmly, sipping tea as if nothing unusual had happened.
The old man glanced at him.
"So," he said, "you're finally awake."
His eyes briefly moved to Charlie's regenerated arm.
Charlie hesitated before speaking.
"Where am I…? Is this your house?"
"Yes," the old man replied simply.
Charlie swallowed.
"What happened to me?"
The old man placed his cup down.
"You lost to Kiro. One of your arms was cut off."
Charlie stiffened.
"But," the old man continued, "you seem to possess a regeneration ability. Your hand healed on its own."
Charlie looked down at his arm again.
"Then… did you defeat Kiro?" he asked.
The old man shook his head.
"No."
He calmly explained everything—how Ryujin arrived, how Yosuke retreated, and how the fight ended.
Charlie listened quietly.
"…Your grandson," Charlie said slowly. "Ryujin."
"Yes," the old man replied. "He reached there in time. That's how we survived."
Charlie nodded.
"So… he's strong."
The old man smiled faintly.
"Yes. Very strong."
He took another sip of tea.
"Now that you're awake, you may leave."
Charlie clenched his fists.
"…Can you train me?"
The old man raised an eyebrow.
"Training? Why would I train you?"
He continued calmly,
"And besides, I don't train people who don't belong to my clan."
Charlie immediately bowed deeply.
"Please," he said sincerely.
"There's a huge responsibility on my shoulders. I need to become better at fighting. Please… teach me."
The old man stared at him.
"Huh?" he said.
"And what responsibility can you possibly fulfill by fighting?"
Charlie lifted his head.
"Many years ago," he said, "when I was just two years old, my father took a massive loan from a mafia. He hasn't been able to repay it even today."
The old man listened silently.
"When I found out," Charlie continued,
"I went to that mafia myself and told them I'd repay all the money… in exchange for them staying away from my family."
The old man frowned slightly.
"And how will training under me help you repay that debt?"
Charlie answered honestly.
"My ability rewards me with money whenever I defeat a dangerous enemy."
The old man blinked.
"What kind of ability is that…?"
"Huh… kids these days are getting stranger and stranger powers."
He paused for a moment.
"Tell me," he said, "what is the name of that mafia?"
"Yujin," Charlie replied.
The old man froze mid-sip.
"…So it's Yujin."
Charlie noticed the change.
"You know him?"
The old man nodded.
"Very well. He's my son."
Charlie nearly choked.
"Y-Your son… is a mafia boss?"
"Yes."
Charlie stared at him.
"Then… that means he doesn't live with you?"
Instead of answering, the old man asked,
"What's your name?"
"Charlie."
The old man nodded.
"My name is Nijin. You may call me Master Nijin."
Charlie looked up in surprise.
"I'll train you," Nijin continued.
"But if your training is successful… you'll have to do something for me in return."
Charlie hesitated.
"What do I have to do?"
"You'll find out after the training is complete," Nijin replied.
"For now, you may leave."
Charlie bowed deeply once again.
"Thank you very much, sir," he said sincerely.
"I'll see you again."
As Charlie left, Nijin watched him silently.
"…He reminds me of someone," the old man murmured.
From the very next day, Charlie's training started.
Master Nijin asked him,
"How does your power work?"
Charlie explained,
"If I defeat an enemy, I earn money.
If I hurt an innocent person, money gets deducted.
And if I lose a fight… all the money disappears."
Nijin nodded slowly.
"A very strange ability."
"And what about your healing and regeneration?" he asked.
Charlie replied,
"When I get injured, my system heals me. But in exchange, some of the money I earn gets deducted."
Nijin paused.
"But you said that after losing a fight, all your money disappears," he said.
"Then how did your hand regenerate after you lost to Kiro?"
Charlie froze.
"…You're right."
He stared at his hand again.
"How did it regenerate on its own…?"
Nijin narrowed his eyes.
"It seems there's still a lot about your power that even you don't understand."
He stood up.
"Very well. Your training begins now."
"We'll start with the basics," he said.
"You'll run around that mountain ten times every day."
Charlie's eyes widened.
"Ten times?!"
"No excuses," Nijin replied calmly.
"Start."
Every day, Charlie ran ten rounds around the mountain.
Then came breath-holding training underwater.
Then martial arts.
And finally—meditation.
The first ten days were a disaster.
Charlie stumbled constantly.
Underwater, he nearly drowned.
During martial arts training, he got beaten again and again.
During meditation, he kept falling asleep.
But after some days—
Something changed.
Running ten rounds no longer exhausted him as much.
He could survive underwater for nearly twenty minutes without breathing.
In martial arts, he was still behind—but he had mastered the basics.
And during meditation… he no longer fell asleep.
Master Nijin observed him quietly.
"Slowly," he said,
"your power is starting to synchronize with your body."
Charlie frowned.
"…What does that mean?"
Nijin explained,
"Having a superpower doesn't mean you're strong."
"Even if your power is the strongest," he continued,
"you can still lose if your body can't keep up with it."
"If your body and power aren't synchronized properly,
then no matter how powerful you are—
your strength will be useless."
Charlie nodded.
"I see."
Nijin looked at him sharply.
"Do you truly want to earn money by fighting?"
Charlie answered seriously,
"To be honest… my life has been difficult since childhood. My parents have suffered a lot."
"If this shortcut can fix everything," he said firmly,
"then I'm willing to walk this path."
Nijin stared at his eyes for a long moment.
"…You're a fool," he said quietly.
Elsewhere
The sun began to set.
Ten figures sat on chairs in darkness. Their faces were hidden.
"Soon," one of them said,
"that day will arrive."
"There are still two months left," another replied.
"Time is already running out."
"Are all the preparations complete?" someone asked.
"That's something the Seventh should know."
The Seventh spoke calmly,
"The preparations are complete. There's only one thing I need."
"And that belongs to the Koruko Clan."
"Then destroy the clan and take it," someone said coldly.
The Seventh smiled.
"I've already made preparations."
"Soon," he said,
"a massive lightning will roar across this world."
A figure walked away.
A faint spark of lightning flickered around him.
Something catastrophic was approaching.
....To be Continued....