Kyle remained motionless beneath the shadow of a collapsed building.
His breathing was steady.
His expression was cold.
Yet beneath that calm exterior, an ocean of rage churned violently.
The woman lay on the ground, shielding her young daughter with her body.
Tears streamed down her dirt-stained cheeks.
"Please..."
"We'll pay..."
"I swear we'll pay..."
The leader of the Void Serpents sneered.
"You've been saying that for days."
He grabbed the woman by the hair and forced her head upward.
"You have until tomorrow evening."
"If our tribute isn't ready..."
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"...then tomorrow won't end with just broken furniture."
The little girl threw herself onto the man's arm.
"Please!"
"Don't hurt my mother!"
The thug shoved her away as though she weighed nothing.
She crashed into the wall with a cry.
Kyle's nails dug into his palms.
His heartbeat quickened.
Rain.
Blood.
His mother's lifeless eyes.
Everything returned in a single instant.
His body instinctively leaned forward.
He wanted to kill them.
Right here.
Right now.
Then...
A familiar voice echoed inside his mind.
"A warrior ruled by anger is already defeated."
"A crouching tiger waits."
"Strike only when victory is certain."
Kyle slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again...
The rage remained.
But it had become controlled.
Focused.
The four Void Serpents laughed among themselves before walking away from the ruined house.
Kyle silently followed.
...
The Ash District was still lively despite the approaching night.
Street vendors shouted endlessly, trying to attract customers.
Workers dragged themselves home after another exhausting day.
Children chased one another through the narrow alleys.
Kyle blended naturally into the moving crowd.
Whenever one of the thugs slowed down or looked behind him, Kyle would stop beside a roadside stall, pretending to inspect broken tools or cheap electronics.
Other times, he slipped into an alley and waited until they walked farther ahead.
Not once did he allow himself to become careless.
Patience.
That single word echoed repeatedly inside his mind.
Nearly twenty minutes passed.
Finally...
The four men arrived behind the Ash Central Market.
Kyle immediately frowned.
A massive concrete compound stood before him.
Its walls rose several meters into the air.
Steel spikes lined the top.
Heavy iron gates protected the entrance.
Armed guards stood on either side of the gate while surveillance cameras slowly rotated across the surrounding streets.
The four thugs casually walked inside.
The gates shut behind them.
Clang!
Kyle remained hidden behind an abandoned warehouse.
His sharp eyes carefully studied every detail.
The guards.
The cameras.
The patrol routes.
The blind spots.
Several minutes passed without him moving.
His mind quietly calculated every possible route of infiltration.
None of them ended well.
Even if he somehow climbed over the wall...
The cameras would spot him.
If the cameras somehow failed...
The guards wouldn't.
If the guards missed him...
The patrols certainly wouldn't.
Kyle slowly released a breath.
"I'm still too weak..."
His fists tightened.
For a brief second...
The urge to charge inside almost overwhelmed him.
Then another one of Elias' teachings surfaced.
"A dead man cannot take revenge."
Kyle's breathing steadied once again.
"No..."
"There has to be another way."
He took one final look at the heavily guarded compound before quietly disappearing into the evening crowd.
...
The journey back to Thorn Dojo felt unusually long.
Every step echoed with frustration.
The headquarters of the people who had murdered his mother was right in front of him...
Yet there was nothing he could do.
Nothing.
Kyle clenched his jaw.
Not because he lacked courage.
But because he lacked power.
By the time he reached the dojo, darkness had already covered the Ash District.
Without even changing his clothes, Kyle headed toward one of the old storage rooms.
He began searching through boxes filled with discarded machine parts.
Broken gears.
Damaged circuit boards.
Rusted wiring.
He searched each box one after another.
"What are you looking for?"
Kyle froze.
He slowly turned around.
Elias stood quietly at the doorway, his arms folded across his chest.
His sharp eyes lingered on Kyle's face.
The anger.
The determination.
The burning hatred hidden beneath his calm expression.
The old master noticed everything.
After several moments of silence...
He finally asked,
"Where are you going?"
Kyle remained silent for several seconds.
Finally, he answered,
“There’s something I need to confirm.”
Elias’ sharp gaze never left him.
“It has something to do with the reason you seek strength.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement.
Kyle slowly nodded.
“…Yes.”
Silence settled between master and disciple.
At length, Elias let out a quiet sigh.
“I won’t ask.”
Kyle looked up in surprise.
“Everyone carries wounds they aren’t ready to speak about.”
“If this concerns those wounds…”
“I’ll allow it.”
“But only this once.”
Kyle bowed respectfully.
“Thank you, Master.”
As he turned to leave, Elias spoke again.
“Kyle.”
He stopped.
“Revenge is a dangerous blade.”
“If you grip it too tightly…”
“It will cut the hand that wields it.”
Kyle remained silent.
Elias continued,
“A wise hunter never charges blindly into a wolf’s den.”
“He studies.”
“He waits.”
“And when he strikes…”
“He leaves no prey alive.”
Kyle’s eyes shone with understanding.
“I’ll remember that.”
Elias gave a small nod.
“Good.”
“Now go.”
“But come back alive.”
…
Instead of heading toward the market immediately, Kyle first made his way behind the old mechanic’s workshop.
Hidden behind the building was a scrapyard overflowing with abandoned machines.
Rusted engines.
Broken appliances.
Discarded electronics.
Twisted sheets of metal.
Most people saw a mountain of worthless junk.
Kyle saw opportunity.
He carefully searched through the piles, his hands blackened with grease as he pushed aside broken machinery.
Minutes later…
Something caught his eye.
Half-buried beneath a pile of rusted pipes lay a palm-sized mechanical spider.
Its shell was cracked.
Half of its legs were bent beyond recognition.
Its tiny camera lens had shattered.
Years of rust covered nearly every joint.
Kyle gently picked it up.
“This should work…”
The scrapyard owner glanced at the broken machine before waving dismissively.
“That old thing?”
“If you want it, take it.”
“It’ll save me the trouble of throwing it away.”
Kyle smiled gratefully.
“Thank you.”
Using part of the three hundred credits Elias had given him, he bought replacement wiring, a second-hand micro-camera, fresh servos, a compact battery, and a few tiny circuit components.
Then he returned to the dojo.
…
The night grew deeper.
The dojo was silent except for the occasional chirping of insects outside.
Kyle sat cross-legged on the wooden floor.
One by one…
He dismantled the damaged spider.
The months he had spent working at the mechanic’s workshop guided every movement of his hands.
Bent legs were carefully straightened.
Broken wiring was replaced.
Rusted joints were cleaned.
The cracked camera was removed and fitted with the new micro-camera.
He connected the fresh battery.
Then…
He tested it.
Nothing.
Kyle frowned.
He opened it again.
One tiny wire hadn’t been connected properly.
He fixed it.
Second attempt.
The spider’s legs twitched before collapsing.
Kyle sighed.
“So that’s not it…”
Another hour passed.
He replaced one damaged motor.
Adjusted the balance.
Cleaned the gears again.
Third attempt.
Smoke curled from the circuit board.
Kyle immediately disconnected the battery.
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
“I’ve repaired engines in worse condition than you.”
“I’m not giving up now.”
He started over.
Screw by screw.
Wire by wire.
Piece by piece.
Outside, the moon climbed high above the Ash District.
Hours slipped by unnoticed.
Finally…
Kyle tightened the last screw.
Click.
The tiny spider slowly raised one leg.
Then another.
Its eight legs unfolded one after another.
A soft blue glow appeared inside its newly installed camera.
Kyle quickly connected it to his old phone.
The screen flickered.
A blurry image appeared.
The quality wasn’t perfect.
The video lagged slightly.
But it worked.
A genuine smile spread across Kyle’s face.
“It works…”
He carefully guided the spider across the wooden floor.
It climbed over books.
Across wooden beams.
Then onto the palm of his hand.
He nodded with satisfaction.
“This will be enough.”
Before putting it away, Kyle quietly walked outside.
The night breeze brushed against his face.
He stopped before the small grave beneath the old tree.
A rough stone stood there.
His mother’s name was carved into it.
Kyle knelt.
For several moments…
He said nothing.
Then he spoke softly.
“Mom…”
“I’ve finally found them.”
“They’re closer than I ever imagined.”
His fists slowly clenched.
“I wanted to rush in today.”
“I wanted to kill every single one of them.”
“But I remembered.”
“Master was right.”
“If I die…”
“I’ll never be able to avenge you.”
He lowered his head.
“So I’ll wait.”
“I’ll become stronger.”
“I’ll uncover every secret they’re hiding.”
“And one day…”
“I’ll make every person responsible answer for what they did.”
The night remained silent.
Only the wind answered him.
Kyle stood.
He gently placed the tiny mechanical spider into his backpack before closing the zipper.
His eyes turned toward the direction of the Ash Central Market.
Tomorrow…
The hunt would begin.