Anger flashed across the mohawk-haired punk's face.
"Fuck off! Who the hell do you think you—AHHHH! AHHHHHH!"
Before he could finish his sentence, the punk let out a scream like a butchered pig.
"Boss!!!"
"Oh my god! Call an ambulance! Quickly!"
"So much blood! So much blood!"
Everyone present froze in terror at the same instant. Their mouths gaped open uncontrollably, panic-stricken screams tearing from their throats.
Bright red blood, thick as paste, dripped onto the ground where five severed fingers lay neatly arranged in a gruesome puddle.
The punk's left hand, which had been dancing with the butterfly knife just moments ago, no longer had a single finger attached.
The black butterfly knife had escaped his control entirely. Wrapped in a spectral blue glow, it floated silently right in front of the punk's face.
Crimson blood still seemed to flow faintly along the blade's edge.
He opened his mouth wide, wanting to vent his agony, but an inexplicable terror seized his heart, choking him until he dared not make even the slightest sound.
"Be my friend? Are you worthy?"
Ryder's tone remained gentle, like a refined young master. Yet the group of thugs stared at him with eyes full of boundless fear, frozen like prey caught in a wolf's gaze.
Damn it! Why did I provoke a monster like this?!
The punk screamed internally, but his body felt petrified, unable to move a muscle.
Thud!
Thud! Thud!
Suddenly.
A wave of extremely subtle cursed energy emerged from the mouth of the alley. The thugs' faces twisted in horror as they collapsed uncontrollably to the ground.
Eyes rolled back, white showing. Every single one of them fainted instantly.
"Kekeke. Mr. Zenin. Welcome, welcome. It is truly an honor. Please forgive my humble reception."
A comical voice sounded in Ryder's ear, like Donald Duck pinching his nose and quacking.
Tap, tap, tap.
Footsteps approached slowly.
From the depths of the alley, a short man waddled out.
The dwarf-like man performed a standard, deep bow toward Ryder's back.
His attitude was so respectful he seemed like Ryder's loyal slave.
From start to finish, Ryder didn't even turn his head. He looked at the unconscious punk on the ground and curled his lip in disdain.
His moon-white eyes flashed with boredom.
"Interesting. A sorcerer born with a cursed technique, turned into this by you people. Truly interesting."
Ryder's voice wasn't loud, but to the dwarf's ears, it was no less shocking than a thunderclap.
The dwarf's expression trembled. Panic flashed across his pustule-covered face for a split second.
Seeing through the root of my technique with a single glance? This guy is definitely not simple!
Whatever he thought internally, the dwarf kept his face plastered with that respectful smile. His tone remained meticulous, like a servant trained for years—docile and obedient.
"Mr. Zenin jests. Compared to your miraculous jujutsu, sir, these are merely petty tricks."
"Petty tricks? Heh. So this is the 'petty trick' you're using to test me?"
Ryder's voice suddenly became elusive, drifting as if he might vanish from in front of the dwarf at any moment.
Though the voice carried no obvious emotion, the dwarf's keen intuition screamed that the man before him was in an extremely dangerous state.
He was standing on the edge of an abyss. One wrong step meant eternal damnation. Even with his status as a Grade 2 sorcerer, he felt absolutely no sense of security.
"Sir! This humble servant has absolutely no such intention!!" The dwarf became even more humble, beads of sweat the size of beans popping out on his forehead.
To outsiders, he was an envoy of the night, the spokesperson for that mysterious organization. In Osaka, every sorcerer treated him with respect. Even the Osaka Jujutsu Association had to give him face.
But in front of this man, he knew he had zero qualifications to demand respect.
"Is that so?" Ryder turned slowly, eyes filled with mockery, and looked deeply at the dwarf.
"My patience has limits. Don't try to challenge my bottom line."
The surrounding air seemed to thin along with Ryder's tone.
"Understood! Sir! I understand! This humble servant would never dare!"
"Good. Lead the way."
Just as the dwarf was about to be crushed by that terrifying pressure, the aura suddenly retracted.
Ryder's voice shifted from cold to incredibly gentle.
A signature, barely-there smile played on his lips as he looked at the dwarf. It was a smile that should have felt like a spring breeze, but in the dwarf's eyes, it sent a chill shooting from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his skull.
Moody, unpredictable, unfathomable strength. Is this guy really only sixteen?!
For the first time, the dwarf doubted his organization's intelligence capabilities.
Keeping the fawning smile fixed on his face, he bowed low before Ryder.
"Certainly, Lord Zenin. This way, please. Your exclusive car has arrived."
"Lead the way."