The night was brilliant, but beneath the silver glow of the moon, Azerion was becoming a graveyard.
While the White Snow Guild scrambled to find their missing men, a far more lethal shadow was moving through the capital. The Hunter's Guild, an organization that lived only for the kill and the coin, had officially joined the fray. At its head sat a man whose name was whispered in the Five Seas like a death sentence: Machinora Kanjo.
Kanjo sat in his private quarters, staring at the 1 Billion Azer bounty poster of the "Shadow Fang." He was the man who had truly dismantled Hakimo Hanto's crew, slaughtering 120 pirates single-handedly before handing the "glory" to Kashishima as if it were a piece of unwanted trash.
"Interesting," Kanjo murmured, his eyes scanning the morning reports. "Two ministers and a businessman were found dead in different locations last night. This Shadow Fang isn't hiding. He's pruning the city like a gardener."
The Baker and the Duelist
The morning sun brought a fake sense of peace. Kaito followed his routine with the precision of a clock, kneading dough and serving bread in the bakery. But as his shift ended, the apron came off and the black coat went back on.
As he began to roam the streets, looking for more "rot" to remove, he felt a change in the air. This wasn't the clumsy stalking of the rookies from the previous night.
Behind him walked a man with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He moved with a lazy, dangerous confidence, a katana strapped to his waist. It was Yurata Hanto, the Ironfang Duelist. Unlike the others, Yurata didn't care for shadows or secrets. He had decided that today, the most wanted man in Azerion would die in the light.
Ignoring the crowded street, Yurata's hand blurred. Shing!
The katana was drawn in a flash, a silver arc aimed directly at Kaito's spine. Kaito didn't even turn around; he simply shifted his weight an inch to the left. The blade hissed past his ribs, cutting only the air.
The public erupted into a panic. Screams filled the air as civilians scrambled away, turning the peaceful bakery street into a desolate battle zone.
"Hello, Shadow Fang," Yurata said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the wind. "I got a bit too excited to wait for a strategy. I thought I'd just come and kill you myself."
Is he a fool? Kaito thought, his eyes scanning the rooftops. Fighting in the open is a mistake. I need to lead him away.
The Gathering Storm
Across the city, in the White Snow Guild HQ, Kashishima and Hakimo were still hunched over a map when an agent burst in, face pale with sweat.
"Report! Yurata Hanto has engaged the target in the Residential Sector! The streets are in chaos!"
Kashishima slammed his fist on the desk. "That idiot! I didn't want the public involved in this!"
"No need for plans anymore," Hakimo growled, standing up and grabbing his heavy weapon. "If the Ironfang is fighting, the scent of blood is already out. Let's join the slaughter."
The Breaking of Iron
Back in the battle zone, Yurata was losing his patience. He lunged forward, his katana a streak of lightning aimed at Kaito's neck. It was a strike meant to decapitate a Sea King.
Kaito didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even move his feet.
He raised two fingers.
Clang!
The razor-sharp steel stopped dead, caught between Kaito's index and middle finger. Yurata's eyes bulged. He tried to pull the blade back, but it was like trying to move a mountain.
"Are you done?" Kaito asked coldly.
With a sudden surge of brute force, Kaito twisted his fingers. The high-grade steel of the katana shattered like glass, the shards tinkling onto the cobblestones.
Yurata fell to his knees, his spirit broken along with his sword. He didn't beg. He didn't scream. He simply bowed his head, accepting the inevitable end. Kaito reached out, his hand moving to snap Yurata's neck and finish the chapter of the Ironfang forever.
"Any last words, Shadow Fang?"
A voice, cold as the void, came from right behind Kaito's ear.
Kaito froze. For the first time in his life, someone had entered his personal space without him noticing a single footstep. He turned his head slightly to see Machinora Kanjo standing there, looking bored.
The narrator's voice deepens: Machinora Kanjo was not merely a hunter. He belonged to the Machinora family—the most influential bloodline of the Sutra Continent. Though he was from a branch family, his shadow loomed larger than the ministers of Azerion. To him, this country was a small pond, and he was the monster that had just found a new toy.