Chapter 26: Most Wanted

Chapter 26 - Most WantedChapter 26

"What... what's happening here?" A young boy muttered, eyes wide with horror as he stumbled into the blood-soaked hallway. Bodies were everywhere—some headless, others grotesquely mutilated. It was as if a monster had rampaged through the estate, leaving only carnage behind.

He was twelve—just a boy—but every corpse he passed was someone dear to him. His brother. His sister. His nephew. Even the loyal servants and guards. All slaughtered.

"This isn't real. This can't be happening," he whispered, clutching his head as though the pressure might banish the nightmare.

Then—fighting. Distant, but clear. He bolted toward the sound, desperate. Please... someone still be alive.

He reached a door, trembling hands on the handle—when it suddenly exploded inward. The body of a woman crashed through it, slamming to the ground. Blood poured from a gaping wound in her stomach.

"M-Mom?!" Ronan gasped, his breath caught in his throat.

"Ronan!" a voice roared.

He turned to see his father—no, barely his father—lifted into the air by a figure cloaked in shadow. A man... no, a demon. Human in shape, but the twisted expression on his face was pure evil.

"Ronan, run!" his father bellowed.

Something primal took over. Ronan didn't think. He turned and ran. And as he ran, the only thing he could hear—over and over in his mind—was his father's voice.



"Ronan, run! Ronan, run! Run...!"

---

A hand shot toward the face of a hooded man.

Without opening his eyes, the man tilted his head just enough to dodge, then delivered a swift kick—launching his attacker across the public bus and into the back wall.

Everyone on board froze.

The hooded man opened his eyes, calm and cold. They'd all assumed he was asleep. And now, the guy who tried to wake him up was unconscious on the floor.

Ronan blinked, then muttered, "Sorry."

To the guy lying face-first on the ground.

Moments later, Ronan stepped off the bus and stared up at the grand building before him: WCS—the most prestigious weapon center in the entire Middle Continent.

Inside, he approached the front desk, where a bored-looking man scanned him up and down.

"Hero badge?" the man asked.

Ronan shook his head. "None."

"You look suspicious," the clerk muttered, eyeing Ronan's blank, unreadable face. His expression didn't change. Not even a twitch.

The clerk grunted. "What kind of weapon are you looking for?"

"Sword."

The man sighed and pulled out a variety of swords. Some gleamed with radiant energy—clearly high-rank weapons. Others were dull and unimpressive. But Ronan's eyes were locked on a particular one—a dark blade, unassuming at first glance, but clearly dangerous.

"You've got a good eye," the clerk said, smirking. "That's an S-rank sword. The only one for sale in the entire continent."

He leaned in. "300 billion yen."

Ronan blinked. Once. Twice. A few more times.

Then: "What?"

Even if the gods offered him immortality for that price, he would decline.

"I don't have that kind of money," he said flatly.

The clerk's smile faded. His eyebrow twitched. So much for thinking this emotionless kid was a high roller.

"Okay, then. What's your budget?" he asked, voice dry.

"1 billion?"

"No," Ronan said.

"100 million?"

"No."

"10 million?!"

"Nope."

The man behind the counter was barely holding back a scream. "Then what the hell is this fool even doing in WCS?"

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Alright, kid. Just how much can you spend?"

"...One hundred," Ronan said.

"One hundred—what?" the man blinked. "Thousand yen? That's barely enough for a C-rank blade, if that." He turned and retrieved a few lackluster swords from beneath the counter. They were dull and unimpressive—tools, not weapons.

Still trying to keep it professional, the man asked, "How do you want to pay?"

"I was trying to tell you," Ronan replied flatly, pulling something from his pocket. He placed a coin on the counter.

The man stared at it. Blinked. Then blinked again.

"...This... this is—this is a hundred yen!?"

Ronan nodded. "That's all I have."

A beat passed. Then, without a word, two security guards dragged Ronan out of the store.

"What about my hundred yen?" he asked in his usual monotone, just as something clattered by his feet. A rusty, chipped knife had been tossed after him.

He picked it up. "Not great... but better than nothing."

Tucking it into his hooded coat, he walked away—expression blank, but his mind was storming.

That man. That demon.

"I'll kill him... even if it's the last thing I ever do."

Suddenly, his steps slowed. He looked up.

Floating screens across the city had all changed, now displaying a familiar hooded figure. His figure.

"WANTED – DANGEROUS VILLAIN ON THE RUN. REWARD: 100 MILLION YEN."

Ronan's face twitched. That amount could've bought ten of those fancy swords.

For a brief second, he actually considered turning himself in... then scoffed. "Madness."

Around him, people glanced up at the screens. Then at each other. Eyes narrowed. Even supposed friends began inspecting each other's faces.

This is getting out of hand, Ronan thought, quickly slipping away into the quieter outskirts of the city.

He walked alone, the world fading into gray around him, his thoughts heavier with each step. Ever since that night, guilt followed him like a shadow. The screams, the blood, the bodies of his family... he carried them all.

And the only way to silence those screams was to make that demon bleed.

Revenge was the only thing keeping him alive.

Suddenly, a pained cry snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned.

A group of thugs stood around someone, their laughter cruel and venomous.

Ronan turned to leave. Not my business.

Then came another cry—clearer. Younger.

He stopped.

"Teach you to mess with us, you little brat," growled a man with jet-black hair and tattoos curling across his arms. He punched down hard, the boy beneath him coughing blood.

The kid couldn't have been older than thirteen, blue-haired, battered and bruised. He clutched something tightly in his hand—refusing to let it go.

"What's that?" the thug sneered, trying to pry it from him.

When the boy resisted, the man's eyes darkened. "Still got fight in you, huh? Let's see how you feel after I crush that little hand of yours."

He raised his foot, ready to stomp—

BAM!



CRACK!

BOOM!

A blur struck him, sending the man crashing through the side of a crumbling building.

His lackeys turned, stunned, only to see a hooded figure standing where their leader had just been—rusted blade raised in front of him.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Ronan said calmly. "But if any of you take one step forward..."

His eyes glinted beneath the hood.

"...you'll wish you were never born."

The gangsters took a few steps back. Something about this guy... felt wrong.

Ronan turned his attention to the wounded boy lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes narrowed, and a slight frown tugged at his lips. Then, slowly, he faced the group of men.

"Who did this?" he asked, his voice cold.

None of them responded. They couldn't—not with the expression on Ronan's face. It was the kind of look that promised death without hesitation.

The figure Ronan had sent flying earlier stumbled to his feet. It was the boss of the gang. Despite the crash, he had only minor injuries—he was an Awakened. He glared at Ronan.

"You dare hit me? You trying to die today?" he growled.

"Did you do that to him?" Ronan asked, gesturing toward the bloodied child behind him.

The boss stepped forward, standing just inches from Ronan now. "That brat didn't know his place. Just like y—"

Fwip!

A gush of blood sprayed into the air. The man froze. He blinked in confusion before looking down at his right arm—gone. Severed cleanly. Blood poured from the wound like a fountain.

He screamed.

His subordinates stood frozen in place, too stunned to move.

"If you don't act now, you'll answer to my brother!" the boss shouted in panic.

That snapped them out of it. No one wanted to face Sui's older brother. They convinced themselves they could take Ronan—they were all Awakened, even if only D-rank.

They charged.

But before they could make it far, something strange happened.

They couldn't feel their right arms.

Looking down, horror filled their eyes. Their arms had been cleanly sliced off.

Ronan stood still, blades dripping red. "I warned you. Take one step, and you'll regret being born."

He dashed forward, a blur of motion. His blades sang through the air, cutting through flesh and bone. Agonized, blood-curdling screams filled the alley.

Seconds felt like an eternity.

And then it was over.

They were all alive—but barely. Blood coated the pavement, and bodies twitched in pain. Sui's condition was the worst; both arms gone. The others each lost one.

"P-please... let us go," they begged, kneeling, sobbing.

"Mr... Hero..." a weak voice called out behind him.

Ronan turned. The boy's condition had worsened—far worse than before. He needed help, now.

Without hesitation, Ronan scooped him up and leapt into the air, sprinting across rooftops, vaulting over alleys, pushing his body to the limit.

At last, he reached the hospital.

The boy was taken in immediately. The doctors assured him he'd survive.

Then came the bill.

Ronan stared at the paper in disbelief.

30,000 yen? For one kid?

He sighed. "How long was I locked up...?"

He had no money.

But he knew who did.

He left the hospital at once.

---

Back in the alley, the gang lay in silence, weak and bloodied. They had finally stopped the bleeding.

"Please," one mumbled, "God, don't let us meet that demon again..."

Thud.

They froze.

A shadow loomed over them.

"Do you guys have money?" came the cold, deadpan voice.

They didn't have to look to know who it was. That voice—that satanic voice—belonged to the one who had ruined their lives.

Panic gripped them. Did he come to finish the job?

"Didn't you hear me?" Ronan asked again. "Do you have money?"

One of them, trembling, turned slowly to face him. He almost regretted it. Ronan's emotionless stare pierced straight through him.

"W-what do you want...?"

Ronan clenched his fists. How many times must he ask the same question?

"Do. You. Have. Money."

The message hit this time. The man scrambled to his feet and pulled out everything he had. The others followed suit, offering up all they could.

Ronan took the cash, silently eyeing the stack.

"You must've robbed a lot of people," he muttered. They gave sheepish, terrified smiles, unsure how to respond.

Without another word, Ronan walked away.

---

Back at the hospital, Ronan handed over the money.

"That's all of it, right?" he asked flatly.

The doctor stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Yes. That's fine."

Ronan turned to leave, but the doctor reached out. Instinct kicked in—he knocked her hand away without thought.

"What is it?" he asked coldly.



She gave a polite smile. "You forgot to sign the hospitalization documents."

"Oh." He sighed, signed them, and walked out.

As soon as the door closed, the doctor picked up her phone. On her screen was Ronan's face.

Beneath it: Most Wanted – Dangerous Criminal on the Loose.

She had seen his face when the hood fell earlier. There was no doubt now.

She typed a message and sent it directly to the nearest Hero Guild.

A monster like him can't be allowed to roam free.


To be continued...

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