Hemlock didn't hesitate. A moment after Hanko's body slammed through the throne and the air shifted from tension into something far more dangerous, he moved. Kenta's earlier words echoed in his head, clear and sharp.
Get them out. Hemlock stepped forward, his voice cutting through the stunned silence like a blade. "Everyone out!" he barked. "Now!"
Heads snapped toward him. For a split second, no one moved. Then recognition set in. A Haven Syndicate lieutenant and all the authority that came with it.
The workers reacted first. The women scattered across the floor abandoned trays and drinks, quickly ushering patrons toward the exit. Some of the men stumbled to their feet, confused, others already scrambling, the tension finally registering in their bones.
"Move!" Hemlock snapped again, his tone harsher this time.
That did it. The room erupted into motion. Chairs scraped. Footsteps pounded. The staircase creaked loudly as people rushed up and down at the same time, some fleeing from upper floors, others being pulled along by workers who knew better than to question an order like that.
Hemlock didn't stay still. He turned and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"Out!" he shouted as he reached the second level. "Everyone out of the building!"
Doors opened. Faces peeked out. Panic spread quickly. Down below, a low, almost broken laugh began to echo. It grew. Twisted. Maniacal.
Hanko Demitri slowly sat up from the wreckage of his shattered throne. Wood creaked and shifted beneath him as he pushed himself upright, fragments sliding off his shoulders and lap. He stayed seated for a moment, his head tilted slightly downward, one hand pressed against his chin.
He laughed. Not loud like before. Not mocking. This was something else entirely. Something completely unhinged.
"You..." Hanko muttered between breaths, his shoulders shaking slightly. "You actually got me with that..."
He stood slowly, brushing off his robe as bits of splintered wood fell away. When he lifted his head, his face was split into a wide grin. But behind it was a sharp anger.
"You really did get the drop on me," Hanko said, clenching his jaw slightly as his fingers pressed into it. "That was a nice sucker punch."
Kenta stood a few feet away, watching him with a half-lidded gaze. There was a faint hint of amusement on his face, though it barely moved.
"Thanks," Kenta said casually. "I'm pretty chuffed with myself over it."
Hanko's grin twitched.
"Felt good," Kenta added, rolling his wrist slightly. "Driving my palm into your jaw like that."
Hanko slowly nodded once. Then his grin disappeared. His hand dropped from his chin, and he moved. No warning. No buildup. One moment he was standing still. The next moment, he was already in front of Kenta.
A thin blade slipped silently from the sleeve of his robe, glinting faintly in the purple light as it drove straight toward Kenta's neck. Fast, precise, and lethal. Kenta's body reacted instantly.
He pushed off his back foot, leaping backward just as the blade cut through the air where his throat had been. The tip missed by inches. Kenta landed lightly, sliding back a step as his eyes locked onto Hanko.
Behind him, movement caught his attention. People were still fleeing. The last of them were rushing down the stairs, pushing toward the exit in a panic.
Kenta's gaze flicked back to Hanko. Hanko smirked.
"You should really keep your eyes on me," he said. "If you want even the slightest chance of seeing tomorrow."
He rushed forward again. Faster this time. The blade flashed through the air in quick, sharp arcs. Each movement was precise, controlled, and incredibly fast. Slashes aimed for the neck, the chest, and the arteries. Kenta moved with him. Sidestepping. Leaning. Twisting just enough to let each strike pass by.
The two of them blurred through the space, their movements too fast for most eyes to properly track. One slash came closer than the others. The blade grazed Kenta's cheek. A thin line opened, a faint streak of red trailing behind as Kenta flipped backward, creating distance between them.
He landed several feet away, his hand lifting slightly. Cold spread as frost began to form along his fingers, creeping up his wrist as the air around him cooled. Hanko scoffed.
"Ice?" he said, rolling his shoulder slightly. "I've dealt with ice style before."
Flames flickered to life in his hands. At first, small. Then growing, curling around his fingers and palms, heat distorting the air around them.
"I'm your perfect counter," Hanko added with a grin.
Kenta didn't respond. He just moved. Both of them did. At the same time. They rushed each other. Ice met fire in a violent clash.
The moment their hands collided, a sharp burst of energy exploded outward. Frost cracked against flame, steam erupting instantly as the opposing forces tore into each other. For a split second, they were locked.
Then, they were thrown apart. Both men went crashing backward, their feet skidding across the floor before they caught themselves, regaining balance almost immediately.
Upstairs, the last of the noise faded. Hemlock came down the stairs just as the clash ended, a group of workers and patrons rushing past him toward the exit. He didn't slow. Didn't stop.
He moved straight through the middle of the room, guiding them out. Hanko's head turned. His eyes locked onto them.
"Where do you think you're going?" he called out, his tone suddenly sharp.
Before either Kenta or Hemlock could react, Hanko moved. He blurred forward, appearing in front of the fleeing group in an instant. The blade flashed. A woman screamed. Then fell.
The cut was clean, quick, and merciless. She hit the floor hard, clutching at her side as blood began to spread beneath her. Hanko stood over her, looking down with clear irritation.
He lifted his foot and kicked her. Hard.
"Property doesn't get to run," he snapped. "Not when the workday's just started."
Before he could say another word, something cut through the air. A sharp, frozen arc. Hanko's eyes widened slightly as he twisted to the side, the ice slicing past him and shattering against the wall behind.
He turned. Kenta stood there, arm lowered from the throw. His expression had changed. Gone was the faint amusement. Gone was the boredom. What remained was something colder.
"Get her out of here," Kenta said.
His voice was calm. But there was weight behind it now.
"Get her treated."
Hemlock didn't hesitate. He moved immediately, dropping to the woman's side and lifting her carefully. She winced, barely conscious but alive.
"I've got her," Hemlock said quickly.
Kenta didn't look away from Hanko.
"Go."
Hemlock nodded once, then turned and ran, carrying her out as the last of the people disappeared through the doors. The brothel fell silent. Empty. Just the two of them now. Hanko exhaled slowly, a smug grin returning to his face as he looked at Kenta.
"Well," he said, tilting his head slightly. "What happened to that laid-back attitude?"
Kenta didn't answer right away. Hanko's grin widened.
"You look a little cross."
Kenta's gaze didn't waver.
"I hate people like you," he said.
There was no hesitation now. No delay. No amusement or tiredness.
"People who think they own everything," Kenta continued. "Everyone."
His voice sharpened just slightly.
"People who abuse their power. Hurt others. Kill them."
Hanko scoffed, rolling his eyes slightly.
"They're weak," he said. "Men, women—doesn't matter."
Flames flickered stronger around his hands.
"This world runs on one thing," he continued. "Survival of the fittest."
Kenta nodded once.
"Alright," he said.
He shifted his stance slightly, the frost around his hand thickening.
"If that's how you see it..."
The temperature in the room dropped further.
"...then I'll show you who the fittest really is."
Hanko's grin stretched wide again.
"And when this is over," Kenta added, his voice low now, "your survival ends."
A faint crackle of frost echoed through the space. Hanko's teeth clenched, flames flaring higher in response. His voice carried almost twisted excitement now.
"This is going to be fun."
And without any more words, the pair moves toward each other once again.