Chapter 2: Blood on the Streets
The wind howled through the back alleys of Neo-Seoul, carrying the scent of rain and something far more ominous—blood.
Kim Han moved with purpose, the weight of the Kurozetsu resting against his hip like an old companion. It felt strange after so many years, yet familiar. The sword had been an extension of his soul once. Would it be again?
Aya led the way, her movements sharp and deliberate. They weaved through the maze of dimly lit alleyways, the neon signs casting shifting colors across their faces.
"Where are we going?" Han asked, his voice low.
"To see an old friend," Aya replied.
Han didn't need to ask who. There was only one man in this city who could give them the information they needed—Jin-Seok Lee, a former strategist for the criminal underworld. If anyone knew Daichi Sato's movements, it was him.
They reached a rundown arcade, its flashing signs half-broken, the sound of electronic gunfire and retro music leaking into the streets. Aya pushed open the door, and the scent of cigarette smoke mixed with stale beer greeted them.
At the back of the room, a man sat slouched over a table, his fingers tapping against a holographic screen. His black hair was disheveled, and his sharp eyes flicked up the moment they entered.
"Well, well," Jin-Seok mused, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. "I never thought I'd see you again, Han."
Han pulled out a chair and sat down. "I need information on Daichi."
Jin-Seok exhaled a plume of smoke and smirked. "Straight to business, huh? No 'Hey, how've you been, Jin?' No 'Sorry for disappearing for five years'?"
Aya crossed her arms. "We don't have time for games."
Jin-Seok leaned forward, his smirk fading. "Neither do I. Listen, the Black Lotus Syndicate isn't the same small-time gang it used to be. Daichi has been making moves—big ones. He's recruiting killers, expanding his reach. You should've stayed in hiding, Han."
Han's jaw tightened. "Where is he?"
Jin-Seok sighed, tapping a few commands on his screen. A holographic map of the city flickered to life, marking several red zones. "There's a deal going down tonight at the old railway yard. High-profile. If Daichi isn't there himself, his top enforcers will be."
Han nodded. "That's all I need."
Jin-Seok hesitated. "You sure about this? You're outnumbered, outgunned."
Han stood, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I only need one blade."
Aya and Han left the arcade without another word. The storm had grown stronger, lightning flashing in the distance.
Tonight, blood would be spilled.
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Midnight - Old Railway Yard
The air was thick with tension as Han crouched atop a rusted freight container, surveying the scene below. A dozen men in black suits surrounded a shipment of weapons, their movements precise and disciplined.
At the center of it all stood Ryuu Takeda—one of Daichi's deadliest enforcers. A man Han had fought before. A man he once called friend.
Han exhaled slowly. There was no turning back now.
He dropped down from the container, landing silently on the wet ground. The first guard didn't even have time to react before Han's blade flashed, slicing through the night.
A cry of pain rang out, and chaos erupted.
The men scrambled, drawing their guns, but Han was already moving—dodging, weaving, cutting them down with swift, deadly precision.
Aya joined the fray, her twin daggers gleaming as she struck with ruthless efficiency.
Then, through the storm, a slow clap echoed.
Ryuu Takeda stepped forward, his katana gleaming under the flickering lights. His dark eyes locked onto Han's.
"Well, well," Ryuu murmured. "The ghost returns."
Han raised his sword.
"Let's finish what we started."
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