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With the battle over, Inoiki turned his attention to the attic.
There, standing frozen, was Tsubasa.
The so-called Black Scorpio had watched the massacre unfold before him, waiting—hoping—that Inoiki's chakra would finally run dry. But now, as he met Inoiki's gaze, cold sweat trickled down his face.
It hadn't worked.
Inoiki's chakra was inexhaustible.
And worse—he had wasted his only chance to escape. If he had fled before, instead of standing there watching, he might have had a sliver of hope.
Now?
It was far too late.
Without hesitation, Inoiki shot toward him, moving so fast he was little more than a blur.
Tsubasa, in a last desperate effort, unsheathed his sword. He held it tightly, trying to steady his trembling hands. He knew—deep down—that this was futile, but he had no other choice.
Inoiki, without a word, controlled one of the floating chakra swords with his Psychokinesis and sent it hurtling toward him.
Clang!
The two blades clashed, a shower of sparks illuminating the dim attic.
Tsubasa gritted his teeth, using all his strength to hold his ground, but it was useless. The force behind Inoiki's attack was overwhelming. His knees buckled, his arms shook—and within moments, he was sent flying backward.
He crashed into the wooden floor with a heavy thud, his body skidding before coming to an abrupt stop.
His sword, the very weapon he had clung to in desperation, slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the ground.
He was defenceless.
Inoiki controlled Tsubasa's body with Psychokinesis, lifting him into the air before pulling him forward. As Tsubasa's body hovered helplessly, Inoiki grabbed him by the neck, tightening his grip just enough to make his threat clear.
His voice was cold, emotionless. "I warned you, didn't I? If you refused to listen, you would die."
Tsubasa gasped, his hands clawing at Inoiki's wrist, struggling against an invisible force he knew he couldn't break. But when he saw the merciless gleam in Inoiki's eyes, true terror gripped him.
He panicked.
"Please! Please! Let me live!" he begged, his voice desperate, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I'll give you all the materials—every last bit! Just give me three or four days to gather them! I won't even charge you! Just spare me!"
Inoiki's grip didn't loosen.
Tsubasa's breaths came in short, ragged gasps, but he forced himself to keep talking.
"If you kill me, you might be able to force my second-in-command to work for you," he continued, his voice strained. "But that will take time—more time than you want to waste. A new leader would have to consolidate power, control the factions, silence any dissent. The process would be long, messy…"
His eyes darted wildly, searching Inoiki's face for any sign of hesitation.
"But if you let me live, I can get you everything you need—quickly, efficiently. I swear it."
Inoiki had been ready to snap Tsubasa's neck.
But he paused.
The logic was sound. He was in a hurry—he didn't have time to deal with the political chaos of a sudden power shift. And after securing the materials, he still needed to visit the blacksmith to have his weapon forged.
Tsubasa's life should have ended here.
Yet now, it seemed, he had bought himself a few more days.
Inoiki released his grip, letting Tsubasa drop to the ground. The man gasped for breath, his hands instinctively flying to his throat, as if checking to make sure his neck was still intact.
Inoiki's sky-blue eyes remained cold and unforgiving. "I'm giving you one last chance," he said, his voice like sharpened steel. "You have begged for mercy, and I am willing to grant it. But listen carefully—if you try anything other than gathering the materials for me, you will die. That, I promise you."
Tsubasa swallowed hard and nodded frantically. "Yes, yes—don't worry! I will arrange everything as soon as possible. You have my word!"
Struggling to regain his composure, he forced a weak smile. "In the meantime, please stay in our most luxurious guesthouse. It's the least I can do for such an… esteemed visitor."
Inoiki gave a slow nod. He didn't trust Tsubasa, but he trust his strength and he had already made his decision.
Tsubasa turned to his butler, who had been standing silently in the background, his expression carefully neutral. "Take Lord Inoiki to the guest quarters," he instructed. "Make sure everything is perfect. There must be no mistakes in our hospitality."
The butler bowed deeply. "Of course, my lord."
Without another word, Inoiki followed the butler out of the attic.
As soon as he was gone, Tsubasa slumped back against the nearest wall, wiping cold sweat from his brow. The once-grand estate around him was now a disaster—bloodstained floors, shattered furniture, injured men groaning in pain.
But he had survived.
He wasted no time.
"Gather the wounded! Treat whoever can be saved!" he barked at the remaining guards. "And send messages to every black market supplier—tell them I need chakra weapon materials in bulk. I don't care how they get it, just make it happen. Payment can be discussed later!"
His men scrambled to obey, rushing off into the night.
Tsubasa clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had bought himself time—but only just. If he didn't deliver what Inoiki wanted, there would be no more second chances.
...
(A/N: If you like the story please vote power stones.)
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