Chapter 2: Local Heroes

Li felt the goblin’s jagged blade tear into his thigh—a sharp flare of pain, but one that he met with a stoic grimace. His breath hitched as his eyes rose to meet the figure emerging from the shadows of the basement: Tsuto. The architect of the town’s suffering. The man who had severed Li’s last fragile link to Misaki’s whereabouts. A fire ignited in Li’s chest, hotter than the wound in his leg. Pain, it seemed, no longer mattered.

Shifting his stance, Li gripped the hilt of his katana, the polished blade glinting faintly in the dim light. Justice would be served. He stepped forward, only to falter—his balance stolen by a cackling, leering goblin that darted underfoot. The vile creature hurled crude insults, its voice a grating mockery of language.

"Your skull is so grotesque," Li growled, his voice low and steady, "it wouldn’t even serve as a chamber pot." Yet his attention was already turning back to Tsuto.

Tsuto, however, wasted no time. As Li’s focus returned, it was too late—the criminal was already upon him. A fist shot forward like a thunderclap, slamming into Li’s face with the force of a hammer. The world tilted, and he staggered back, crimson rivulets spilling from his nose. He wiped the blood on his sleeve, a streak of dark red staining the black folds of his robe. The investigator stood, silent, unmoving—a mountain weathering a storm.

But Tsuto pressed the attack. His next strike came like lightning: a kick to Li’s solar plexus. The breath fled his lungs, and for a moment, he doubled over, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Yet air was not what Li needed. What he sought now transcended the physical. Justice—or perhaps vengeance—burned brighter than any wound. Memories of Misaki, of her captors, of a fate cruelly imposed, coalesced into a single truth: Tsuto was all that stood between him and retribution.

Li straightened, his breaths shallow but steady. Blood painted his face, and his robes clung to his skin, heavy with sweat and crimson. His eyes met Tsuto’s, and the villain hesitated. Li took a step forward. Then another. With each step, Tsuto faltered, his confidence ebbing like the tide. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift, the air thick with unspoken judgment.

Li moved faster now. In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance, his katana a whisper of steel as it arced through the air. The blade met its mark, slicing cleanly from Tsuto’s side, through his spine, and emerging on the other side in a spray of red.

For a moment, Tsuto stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief. Then his upper body slid free, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. His legs remained, swaying briefly before crumpling like a puppet with severed strings.

Li stood amidst the stillness, his blade slick and glinting in the faint light. Justice—cold, brutal, and unyielding—had been delivered.