"Commander... just how strong is the Family Head?" Shisui asked, his voice low.
"Very strong," Sasaki replied simply.
"Even stronger than you, Father?" Akira chimed in.
Before Sasaki could answer, a loud, wet cough shattered the quiet tension. Sasaki turned to see Hayato slowly blinking his eyes open on the dojo floor.
"Wait... I'm actually alive?" Hayato muttered, looking up at the ceiling. "What a miracle."
He sat up and turned his head, his eyes widening as he noticed Akira sitting right beside him. "Hold on... Akira was taking care of me? Did the sun rise in the west today, or am I still dreaming?"
"Shut up before I shut you up permanently," Akira snapped without looking back.
"Forgive me, milady," Hayato chuckled weakly, laying his head back down.
When Akira stood up to grab fresh bandages, Hayato whined, "Hey, wait! I'm severely injured here! Take care of me!"
Akira clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "Do you want to get hurt more?"
Hayato winced, holding up his good hand. "My humble apologies, milady. I will simply act like I am completely fine."
Akira shook her head, turning back to her father, who was watching the exchange with a quiet, amused smile.
Sasaki cleared his throat to resume their conversation. "To answer your question, Akira—yes, he is..."
Hayato's head snapped up, spotting the Supreme Commander for the first time. "Oh! Hi, Commander! Big fan!"
"Keep your mouth shut, Hayato," Akira ordered sternly.
"Okay, okay, boss," Hayato muttered, zipping his lips.
Sasaki shook his head lightly, his expression turning serious once more. "Yes. Takashi is stronger than I am."
"Then why did he isolate himself for all these years, Commander?" Shisui asked, leaning forward.
"I am not entirely sure of the whole truth," Sasaki admitted softly. "Though I know enough... But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that he is awake—and he is about to unleash hell."
Meanwhile, inside the Family Head's inner sanctuary, time seemed to stand still.
Dozens of armed executioners and clan heads stood frozen in place, not a single soul daring to breathe. Every eye was locked on the giant of a man stepping into the grey sky, draped in a jet-black yukata.
Kenta and the remaining branch leaders were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by an ancient, suffocating pressure.
Even in his old age... his aura is terrifying, Kenta thought, cold sweat dripping down his spine.
The five newly arrived clan heads exchanged terrified glances.
Takashi Yamamoto looked down at the sea of traitors with cold, hollow eyes. "Attack me."
A few executioners swallowed hard, desperation overriding their fear. Four armored mercenaries leaped into the air, brandishing their katanas for a synchronized strike.
Before their blades could descend, a blur of movement cut through the air.
Takashi drove his bare right hand straight into the lead mercenary's chest, tearing clean through his spine. Without pausing, Takashi thrust his arm deeper into the man behind him, plunging his fist through four men in a single, fluid motion—his hand bursting out from the back of the fourth man like a steel spike.
Horror ripped through the crowd.
Using his bare hands like cleavers, Takashi swept his left arm horizontally. A shockwave of pure force cleaved incoming attackers in two, tearing through limbs and armor as if they were made of paper.
Within minutes, the immaculate wooden sanctuary was transformed into a sickening lake of blood and broken bones.
"This monster is unstoppable!" Ike shrieked, backing away.
Takashi's eyes snapped toward him. With a single, casual backhand strike, the air pressure alone decapitated Ike where he stood.
"Send more men!" Kenta screamed, trembling violently as he backed toward the exit. "We can't hold him! Takashi Yamamoto hasn't aged a day... He is still the ultimate predator!"
Takashi blitzed through the crowd, an unstoppable force of nature. He caught blades with his bare palms, tore arms from sockets, and punched clean holes through armored torsos.
"Where the hell is our backup?!" Kenta screamed, grabbing a subordinate by the collar.
"Sir! The other clan leaders and their entire vanguard... they were wiped out!" the grunt sobbed.
"What?! How?! By those brats?!" Kenta gasped. "Archers! Kill him from a distance!"
Kenta turned to command the newly arrived branch heads, only to freeze in utter terror—all five of them were already lying on the stone floor, severed into pieces.
Takashi charged toward Kenta like a demon unleashed.
Suddenly, a heavy rain of arrows poured down from the courtyard roof. Takashi jumped back, snatching two dead bodies out of the air to use as an effortless shield. Closing the gap in a split second, Takashi bypassed the wall of arrows and delivered a devastating right hook straight to Kenta's chin.
The impact killed Kenta instantly, but Takashi didn't stop there. Raising his heavy elbow, he drove it down into Kenta's face, embedding his head deep into a newly formed crater in the stone floor.
Turning toward the remaining archers and executioners, Takashi moved like a specter of death. Takashi moved his claws and wiithin thirty seconds, the entire garden fell into dead silence, littered with the torn remnants of an entire rebel army.
Takashi stood alone in the crimson tide, looking down at his unblemished hands.
"Couldn't even land a hit," he muttered quietly, turning his back on the carnage and walking back into his quiet chambers.
Henry stared at the sky, as he stood in the gateway of his school.
"Mr. Henry, is something wrong?" A fellow colleague asked.
"Yes, I was just surprised that we are going on a dinner party." Henry said.
"Yeah, I was surprised that school called all the teacher all of a sudden and now it was about a dinner for all the teachers."
Henry nodded.
Soon, other colleagues entered the chat, Henry heard and nodded though his mind was distracted. He would occasionally at the sky.
…I should focus on what's in front of me. Henry thought and started chatting.