The neck hadn't snapped.
It had torn.
Sion's fingers had driven straight through the silver-haired boy's throat with brute force alone—flesh and bone giving way under raw power. No claws, no technique, just the force of a decision made too quickly and too clearly.
The head hit the ground with a wet thump.
Then bounced once. Twice. A third time.
Each bounce landed in rhythm with the drops of blood falling from Sion's fingers, soft splashes in the moss-covered earth.
Drip.
Thud.
Drip.
Thud.
Then stillness.
The four girls stood frozen, as if their bodies hadn't quite registered that the danger was over. One's hand covered her mouth, trembling. Another clutched her side where the boy had kicked her earlier, but her eyes never left the body. Horror painted their faces—not just at the violence, but at who had committed it.
Sion.
He didn't look at them. His expression hadn't changed since the moment the head fell.
Emotionless. Focused. Unmoved.
He crouched, wiped his hand on the boy's sleeve, then pulled the badge from the corpse's chest.
He looked at it for a moment, then quietly muttered, not to them, but to himself:
"Taking this is morally wrong... but if it helps me become a superhero—"His grip tightened around the badge."—then it'll lead to more lives saved."
Sion rose to his feet, brushed a smear of blood from his wrist, then turned to face the girls.
And smiled.
Not the dry, distant smirk he wore during the fight.
This was warm. Radiant. The kind of smile that made you forget, for a moment, that his hands had just been inside someone's neck.
He raised his palms and greeted, cheerfully: "Namaste."
The girls blinked.
No one spoke.
Their expressions didn't shift—just stared at him like they were trying to understand what species he belonged to. One girl even leaned slightly toward the other, as if to ask, Did he just say... Namaste?
Sion's brow furrowed. His smile faltered.
"Ah… maybe that was a scam," he muttered to himself. "Uncle lied to me again."
He looked about ready to apologize when a soft voice broke through the silence.
"Thank you…"
The girl with the bruised ribs had stepped forward, just a little. Fear still clung to her frame like static, but her voice held something else—gratitude.
Real. Earnest. A little confused, but real.
Sion's face lit back up.
"Don't mention it," he said, giving her a reassuring nod. "It's my job, after all."
He turned, about to head back into the trees—when a voice, sharp and echoing, cut through the stillness:
"What sort of hero are you?"
Sion stopped mid-step.
He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Kale.
His voice had that smooth weight to it—measured, calm, designed to carry in silence.
Sion turned slightly, half-facing him."The super type...?"
"More like the evil type," the elegant girl scoffed behind Kale, her arms folded with practiced grace.
"Evil type? Nah." Sion waved a hand dismissively. "Those are boring. Only superheroes are cool. Maybe national heroes too, if their suits aren't ugly."
"You're no hero," Kale said. His tone cut through before the girl could say more. "At best, you're an anti-hero."
Sion raised a brow."Oh? Anti-heroes? I've heard of those."
He ticked off his fingers one by one, almost like reciting trivia.
"The cowardly: Too scared to choose a side between the villain's and the heroes.
The Indecisive: Wants to save lives, but also want to see them burn.
The 'smart' ones: Can't go wrong with standing on the fence, except you fall."
A beat.
"That… actually makes sense," Kale said with a slow nod.
"I know. Superheroes are pretty smart," Sion said dryly, brushing invisible dust off his shoulder.
"But you're forgetting one more type."
"Oh?" Sion cocked his head. "Do enlighten me."
"The mentally unstable," Kale said evenly. "Example: You."
Sion didn't flinch. "No, no, it doesn't work like that. Everyone's a little crazy. Especially the gifted."
"Huh?"
"As the great Sir Confucius once said: Power equals crazy.... Probably."
"Who the hell is Sir Confucius?"
Sion shrugged. "I don't know. Isn't His Highness the Prince supposed to know all the historic figures?" He threw Kale a grin, half-mocking, half-genuine.
Kale opened his mouth, probably to deliver a snappy retort—
But then it hit.
A voice.
Not loud. Booming.
It rolled through the trees, the sky, the ground beneath their feet—like thunder wrapped in intent.
"The first phase of the test shall now begin."
Everything froze.
The wind stopped. The leaves didn't rustle. Even the birds—those rare ones that had dared to chirp—fell silent.
Sion turned slowly.
Kale's brows had lifted. The elegant girl frowned. Gorrana gripped her axe just a little tighter.
"The first phase is starting… now?" Kale echoed, voice low.
The girls Sion had saved looked just as stunned. One of them mouthed, Wasn't this already the test?
No one answered.
But they all knew what this meant.
The real test was just about to begin.
Just then—
The forest came alive.
Not in the poetic way.
In the screaming, teeth-baring, claw-dragging way.
First came the sounds—low growls, skittering limbs, rustling too heavy for wind. The kind of noise that made instincts scream before the brain even processed danger.
Sion's ears twitched. He turned his head slightly. "Ah."
Kale stepped forward, brows knitting. "What the hell…"
Throughout the forest, they emerged.
Eyes glinting like coals in the fog. Fur bristling, scales shimmering. Some on two legs, others on six. Fangs, talons, spines. Some small as foxes, others taller than trees.
Some were your regular and well known monsters: Goblins, Orges and so on.
While some of them wrong in the way only monsters could be—like evolution had skipped logic and gone straight to nightmare fuel.
They didn't roar. Not at first.
They just... watched.
Waiting.
Then, all at once—the hunt began.
The whole forest exploded with noise. Screams. Snarls.
Over at Sion's location.
They never charged.
They just stood there—staring.
Dozens of them.
Hundreds, maybe.
Eyes glowing in the shadows, jaws twitching with instinct. But none made a move.
Not toward the girls.
Not toward Sion.
All of them were looking at Kale.
A beat passed.
Kale tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch it. The way their bodies stiffened when he shifted. The way even the larger ones stepped back.
His lips curved in a cold, lazy smile.
"Tch."
He scoffed and turned away, flicking invisible dust from his shoulder.
"Guess they're smarter than they look."
The elegant girl fell into step beside him, silent but wide-eyed.
Gorrana grinned, resting her axe on one shoulder. "Damn right they are."
Kale didn't look back as he spoke. "We'll meet again, Superboy."
Then he and his team disappeared into the trees like they owned the forest.
And the monsters... let them.
Just let them walk.