The first whose rod reached me was a skinny man in his mid-thirties. His hair was already thinning toward baldness, and his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the outline of his teeth through his cheek.
It was clear he didn’t want to be here, and he certainly didn’t want to die here either.
I slowly raised my hand, sending one of the rods orbiting me hurtling toward him. With a single flick of my finger, it slammed into his side and sent him flying several meters away.
The man’s body went completely still for a moment; and the men around me froze along with him.
In the next moment, though, his chest began rising and falling again, and the tension in their shoulders eased.
No matter how much I hated my father, I wasn’t a monster. I wouldn’t go around killing people like some tyrant.
Besides, although I stood on a level far beyond my father and his men, compared to the real monsters out there, even the average hunters in the guilds, I was nothing but an ant.
’I have to finish this quickly.’
As the men rushed at me again, as if they hadn’t just watched me send their companion flying, I lowered myself until the heel of one foot brushed the ground.
Immediately after, I activated Flash Step.
Unlike what I’d read in novels back on Earth, activating a system skill wasn’t as simple as tapping a button.
Instead, I had to picture the full sequence of motion I wanted, like tracing through a manual step by step.
Once I’d put some distance between myself and the old man’s gang, I let myself hover back into the air, arms stretched wide.
The iron rods circling me rattled with building force before shooting out from my sides like bullets, slamming into the men one after another.
I didn’t want to kill any of them, so I struck them with just enough force to knock them unconscious, careful to avoid causing any serious damage.
Once the last body dropped, beads of sweat lined the old man’s forehead as he stared at me like I was some alien creature, like the person standing before him wasn’t the little boy who used to beg for his attention.
Fucking pathetic.
"You..." he stammered. "Who the hell are you?!" The calm, drunken menace in his voice had vanished, replaced by pure panic.
My damned old man stumbled several steps backward. "You’re a monster! You’re no son of mine!"
I stopped hovering and stepped closer. He staggered backward, tripped over his own feet, and landed hard on the ground.
Fucking pathetic.
Dan Kissman, the man who’d raised me with an iron fist, shook like a child who’d just shattered his mother’s favorite plate.
The eyes that had always looked down on me now stared up as though I were something monstrous.
I’d always been a monster to him. Now I was just a different breed of one.
"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Even if you awakened this morning, how... how are you this strong? You damned demon!"
He kept spitting curses and questions, but at some point, I stopped hearing any of it.
’Such a pathetic man...’ I couldn’t stop the thought from surfacing. Without even noticing, tears had started falling from the corner of one eye. ’Both he and I... we’re both so fucking pathetic.’
Right now... was I really any different from the scared little kid who used to cry in this very house?
If I’d needed a system just to beat this pathetic bastard, then what had really changed?
Ha... so pathetic.
"You bastard! I know you don’t dare kill me..."
"...Come on, say something..."
"...Just apologize and beg, and this old man will—"
I tuned out the last scraps of his voice as they faded into the background and stared up at the dark sky instead.
The evening breeze was cold and clean against my skin. The moonless sky felt strangely comforting rather than haunting.
Maybe I was still that little child, trapped somewhere between the war of my past and the abuse of my present.
Maybe I’d never truly become someone new. And maybe that fractured part of me was the very thing holding the rest of me together.
A small smile touched my lips as I breathed in deeply and let the breath out just as slowly.
"Good, good. Seems you’ve finally come to your senses." Dan’s voice cut through my thoughts, and only then did I notice he was back on his feet. "Even if you’re stronger now, I’m still your father. I still own you."
I lowered my gaze from the sky and met his eyes, my own bright, the faint smile still lingering on my lips.
"Mom’s home, right?"
"What?" His face scrunched up in confusion. "Yes, she is. What does that have to do with anything?"
I didn’t answer. I simply walked past him, the azure second skin still faintly glowing around my body.
’Goodbye, Dan Kissman. I hope we never cross paths again.’
With that thought, I clenched my fist.
A wet, cracking sound reached my ears, followed by something rolling across the ground.
’System, can you clean this up? If possible, make everyone forget I killed Dan.’
[Affirmative.]
[That would cost: $500,000 for a total cleanup.]
’Proceed.’
I walked past the stunned neighbors and up to the top floor of the building. Unlike the plain wooden doors on the other floors, this one was ornate, and for some reason, it stood wide open.
"Why’s it open?" I frowned. "Is she waiting for me?"
Although I hated both my parents, my mother had never given me quite the same reason to despise her.
Most of the time, she was simply a bystander to the abuse. Occasionally, though, she’d comfort me or bring home some small gift.
So, if there was even a trace of warmth left in her, if she held no hostility toward me, I wanted to avoid spilling more blood tonight.
I stepped through the front door and, out of old habit, reached down to remove my shoes, but caught myself halfway and walked in anyway.
My mother sat on the floor at the center of the living room, one leg folded beneath her, the other knee raised, an arm draped casually across it.
She wore a fancy, beaded sari, and her striking purple eyes locked onto me the instant I stepped into the room.
Honestly, my mother was beautiful, by far the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Yet her life, more than anything, had taught me that looks alone meant nothing in this cruel world.
Her eyes dropped from mine to my feet.
"Go back outside and take off your shoes before you come in."
I stared at her, stunned. Surely she already knew what had happened downstairs, that I’d killed my father. So why wasn’t she afraid?
Still, I stepped back onto the veranda, pulled off my shoes, and returned to sit cross-legged across from her.
She produced a cigarette from seemingly nowhere and lit it with a flick of her finger. "So how are you, my little boy? Did your father make you lose your temper again?"
I kept my gaze low, jaw tight.
Like always, I couldn’t read her, couldn’t map the strange logic of her mind. One moment she’d love you fiercely; the next, she’d turn so distant you wouldn’t recognize her at all.
"I’m alright," I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"Hmm..." she hummed. "Good for you. Being sad or sick isn’t good for someone your age."
"I’ll keep that in mind, Ma."
She took a long drag from her cigarette, smoke curling through the air between us. "So what now? You planning to kill me too?"
I slowly raised my gaze to meet hers. A small smile sat on her lips, rare enough that I almost didn’t recognize it.
But it was her eyes that made me freeze.
One glowed gold.
The other, blue.
[Host... this woman is incredibly dangerous.]
I didn’t need the System to tell me that. I’d known it since the day I was born. I just never realized it was to the extent that even the System would be terrified.
But now my suspicion was confirmed. This woman I called my mother was far more powerful than I could have ever imagined.
Nothing like my father.
If I threw everything I had at her right now, every scrap of strength I could muster, I knew without a doubt that I’d lose.
My mother let out a soft chuckle. "You’re a smart boy. Much like your father."
"My father?"
She leaned further into one arm, her smile curling wider. "Oh, right. I never did tell you about your real father."
"What?"
"Didn’t you ever wonder why your surname is Michael, not Dan? Or is my son that dense?"
[Come to think of it, host. Why is your name Michael? Did you already know he wasn’t your real father?]
I could hear the System’s question echoing in my skull, but I had no answer. I couldn’t even begin to process it.
I’d never actually known my mother’s maiden name, never heard anyone say it aloud. I’d always assumed she’d given me her surname since she was the family’s real breadwinner.
Not once had it occurred to me that the man I’d spent my whole life aching for, the man who’d turned my childhood into hell, wasn’t even related to me by blood.
Nausea hit me almost instantly, and I bolted for the sink in the hallway, barely making it before I threw up.
’Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! This can’t be fucking happening!’