Chapter 3. Declaration of War

Lazren’s eyes narrowed, his arrogant gaze raking over Rayden from head to toe. "What did you say?" he sneered.

He knew, of course, about the Duskar family massacre. But as far as anyone knew, only the daughter had survived.

Then, Lazren’s gaze shifted past Rayden and landed on the figure of Mireya standing just behind him. His expression soured instantly, his brow knitting in displeasure.

"You," he spat at Mireya, ignoring Rayden completely. "What are you doing here?" Before she could answer, he turned his possessive glare back to Rayden. "And why is my fiancée with you?"

At that, Rayden raised a single eyebrow and glanced back at Mireya. "Fiancee?"

The tension around Mireya tightened. There was something in Rayden’s calm gaze that felt more intimidating than Lazren's open hostility. "Y-yes, but—"

"Unfortunately for you," Rayden cut in smoothly, his voice devoid of any deference, "Mireya has been my woman for the last ten years."

The declaration hung in the air. Lazren’s eyes bulged. "What did you just say? She is my fiancée! The fiancée of Lazren Bramasta!"

Mireya was just as stunned, her mind reeling at the audacious lie Rayden had just thrown like a gauntlet.

Rayden, however, remained perfectly composed, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. "In your dreams."

"You…." Lazren ground his teeth, his face flushing with rage. "Get out of my family's house!"

Rayden let out a cold snort. As he was about to step forward, Mireya’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

"Ray," she pleaded softly.

He merely smiled, gently prying her fingers from his arm in a gesture that said, there is nothing to fear. He then took two deliberate steps forward, closing the distance between himself and Lazren.

"This house has returned to the Duskar family," Rayden stated casually. "Didn't you know? I bought it."

Lazren’s jaw tightened. ‘Impossible!’

"Who the hell are you?" he roared, his voice escalating with fury. His sharp, piercing gaze was now backed by an aura of pure anger.

Rayden’s expression turned glacial. The time for games was over.

"The name is Rayden Duskar," he hissed. The name landed like a crack of thunder in the silent room. "Son of this home's rightful owner. And… the man you all left for dead ten years ago."

The atmosphere froze. The air grew heavy, thick with a tension so palpable it was almost suffocating. Mireya held her breath.

Lazren’s face went white with shock. But the shock quickly morphed into a forced, derisive laugh. "Hahaha! Rayden Duskar? So… that piece of trash is still alive? And you even have the nerve to stand before me?" Lazren's gaze turned venomous. "Do you want to die twice?"

"I believe," Rayden replied, his voice a chilling whisper, "you're the one about to meet your end."

In that same instant—

BOOM!

Without a visible movement, a wave of kinetic force erupted from Rayden’s hand. Lazren was launched backward as if hit by a battering ram, slamming into the far wall before crumpling to the floor, a thick glob of blood sputtering from his lips.

"Young Master!"

The two bodyguards who had been standing behind Lazren reacted in shock. The attack had been sudden, impossibly powerful, and had struck without any physical contact. Such a feat was the hallmark of a Grandmaster-level warrior.

"Kill him!" Lazren shrieked from the floor.

At his command, the two Master-level bodyguards surged forward. One brandished a knife, the other a pistol, both aiming for Rayden's vital points.

A gunshot cracked the air as a blade sliced towards his throat.

But Rayden was already gone.

CRACK!

In the blink of an eye, he had reappeared behind them. Two brutal, precise strikes to their midsections lifted both men off their feet. They were launched across the room, their bodies hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. They collapsed in a heap, blood spraying from their mouths as they slid to the floor, incapacitated.

The third bodyguard, a true Grandmaster, reacted faster. He swung a heavy steel staff in a deadly arc aimed at Rayden’s head.

Rayden simply raised a hand, catching the speeding weapon in his open palm as if it were a dried twig. With a single, sharp twist, he wrenched the staff from his opponent's grasp. Before the bodyguard could process what had happened, Rayden grabbed his head and savagely slammed it into the floorboards.

CRACK!

"You son of a—"

Before the man could even finish his curse, Rayden brought the heavy steel staff down against his temple. A dull, wet thud echoed in the room, and the burly figure collapsed, silenced forever.

In the ensuing, terrifying silence, Rayden turned his gaze back to Lazren.

Alone now, Lazren’s face was a mask of pure terror. His trembling hand fumbled inside his suit jacket and emerged with a silver pistol, which he leveled at Rayden.

"D-Don't move! You bastard… Don't you come any closer!"

Rayden said nothing. He simply began to walk forward, each step a calm, deliberate footfall that sounded like the approach of the grim reaper.

"Pull the trigger," Rayden said, his voice low and emotionless, making it all the more terrifying. "I guarantee that bullet will find its way back to you."

"I said stay back! Don't come near me, you bastard! My father won't spare you if you touch me!" Lazren babbled, his voice raw with fear.

Rayden’s lips curled into a cruel sneer. "You won't be able to speak long enough to tattle."

CRACK!

"Arghh!!" Lazren screamed in pure agony as Rayden’s fist connected, shattering the right side of his face into a ruin of flesh and blood.

"I won't grant you the mercy of a quick death," Rayden said coldly, his eyes boring into Lazren's. "You will die alongside every last member of your family."

"You…." Lazren clutched his ruined cheek. The pain was immense, but the fear was greater. "What do you want?!"

Rayden smiled his predator's smile. "Why did your family attack mine?"

Lazren swallowed hard, the pain momentarily forgotten under the weight of Rayden's frigid gaze. "I… I don't know anything about that."

"Tsk. Useless," Rayden scoffed. Then, without warning, he struck again. And again. And again.

The rapid, brutal impacts filled the room. Blood sprayed. The sickening sound of splintering bone was horribly clear. Lazren was a heap on the floor, unable to even scream, only producing pathetic, gurgling moans from a face that was no longer recognizable, his teeth scattered, his jaw shattered.

It was then that Mireya, who had watched the entire horrifying spectacle in a cold sweat, finally found her voice. "Ray…"

Rayden stopped and turned, as if suddenly remembering she was there.

"Don't worry, Mireya," he said calmly, as if reading the terror in her mind.

"Ray, you… how are you this strong?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He only smiled, offering no explanation.

"Where have you been for ten years? What have you been doing, Ray?" she pressed, unable to reconcile the boy she knew with the monster of efficiency and power before her. The Rayden she remembered had never even learned to fight.

"That's not important," he replied with a casual shrug.

"But, Ray… you just picked a fight with the most powerful military family in Malora. There's no way you'll be safe after this," Mireya said, her voice laced with genuine dread. As much as she wanted to understand his impossible power, the reality of the situation was crashing down on her.

"It's not a big deal," Rayden said, his voice calm, his eyes already looking past the broken man on the floor towards the war that was to come.