Kenji
The flickering lights blinked to full strength, revealing the face of our mysterious attacker. He was younger than expected, maybe late teens or early twenties, with dusty brown hair tousled from combat and a roguish grin that mirrored Yushiro's signature smirk. His relaxed posture was at odds with the intensity of our skirmish.
We slowly sheathed our weapons, exchanging confused glances.
"You lost pretty fast, Arion," someone commented from the sidelines.
"Hey, that silver one came outta nowhere!" Arion shot back, brushing dust from his shoulder.
A ruby-haired young man laughed heartily, clapping Arion on the back. "Yeah, I couldn't see him either. That kid's a ghost."
Arion shrugged, turned to us with a grin. "Would love to chat, but I've got wings to stretch." And just like that, he vanished through the back exit, his presence gone as quickly as it had come.
We watched the doorway in silence for a beat.
"Hey, you guys are good," the ruby-haired one said, stepping forward with an easy smile. His crimson hair glinted under the warm ceiling lights, and his ruby-red eyes sparkled with amusement. A sleek sword rested at his hip. "Sorry for the surprise attack. I'm Truth Ruby. Nice to meet you." He extended a gloved hand toward me.
I eyed him warily for a second before accepting the handshake. "Kenji Kimura. Likewise."
Nearby, my brothers were already being introduced to others.
A tall man with amethyst-tinted hair tied into a neat ponytail approached Taka, exuding a calm, noble aura. "Good evening. I'm Marko Amethyst," he said, his voice smooth as silk.
Takahiro stood straight, offering a respectful nod. "I'm Takahiro. Pleasure."
Not far off, a woman in a maid's uniform with gentle pink hair and a graceful air approached Yushiro. "Good evening," she said, curtsying. "My name is Annette Coral. Welcome to Division 4."
Yushiro, surprisingly took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it. "Good evening, Miss Annette. This old man's name is Yushiro."
Annette giggled, slightly flustered. "Oh my…"
i stared at him surprised Did this bastard bump his head?
Despite the chuckles and warm greetings, the room's light atmosphere cracked with the sudden bark of a gruff voice.
"Their movements are average. Nothing special. Don't waste time fawning over them."
The words sliced through the room like a blade. My eyes darted toward the bar, where a man sat hunched over a mug, back turned to us. His tone was bored, dismissive.
I scowled. "What did you say?"
The man didn't turn. "I said you're nothing special."
That was enough.
I stalked toward him, ignoring Taka's warning call behind me. "Kenji, don't pick fights!"
"I don't pick fights—I finish them," I growled.
The man turned slowly, and I was taken aback. He looked like he hadn't slept in days—unkempt hair, heavy dark circles under his eyes, and a posture that screamed exhaustion. Yet… there was something else. Something dangerous.
"What did you say, old man?" I asked, stepping closer.
"I said what I said," he replied flatly, finally facing me. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held a quiet intensity.
"And who the hell are you to judge us?" I snapped, my hand sliding to the hilt of my sword.
"Just someone who knows talent when he sees it." He leaned back lazily, as if I didn't pose even a shred of threat.
Something about him unsettled me—not his disheveled appearance, but the aura he exuded. Subtle, like a predator that didn't need to roar to remind you it could kill.
I noticed then: his left sleeve was empty, the fabric tied off where an arm should've been.
A one-armed man?
I drew my sword slowly, its bone-white hilt cool in my grip. The obsidian blade gleamed under the lights, a strange and eerie contrast.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Creepy sword."
I stiffened. "Don't insult my sword, you bastard."
"It's creepy," he repeated, nonchalant.
"You're the creepy one!"
"Have you seen your sword?"
"Have you seen your face?!"
"Are you jealous?"
"Of what?!"
"My looks."
"Jealous of your creepy-ass face? Screw off!"
"Kenji, language!" Taka scolded.
"It's the bastard's fault!"
My patience snapped. I raised my blade and slid into my stance.
I don't care if he's got one arm. I'm done being insulted.
The man sighed, standing slowly. He almost tripped over his stool before stepping behind the bar and retrieving a magnificent spear. Its shaft gleamed with golden veins, and its verdant tip shimmered like it had been kissed by forest spirits.
Even I had to admit—it was beautiful.
Before I could act, Yushiro's teasing voice called out.
"Hey, Kenji."
I didn't look away from the man. "What."
"Fun fact."
"Not now, Yushiro."
"That guy…" he said, pausing just to build suspense, "is the Division 4 Captain."
…
My blood ran cold.
What… did he say?