It was night in Irio.
The street was empty, except for a few stray cats roaming around.
A crude-looking house stood at the end of the street, barely illuminated by a flickering street lamp. Its front yard looked dead and overgrown. Even the fence's paint was peeling off in long, curling strips that flapped gently in the breeze.
At the house, the television played some old black-and-white cowboy movies that echoed through the dark rooms.
In the kitchen, a man flicked a lighter to ignite his cigarette. With his other hand, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a long, satisfying sip.
On the few walls, there were framed pictures of him during his high school days—his glory days. Those were long gone.
"Mhm…" Ward muttered to himself and tossed the bottle of whiskey to the sink—the last droplets of the amber liquid trickling down the drain.
With a cigarette between his dry lips, he left the kitchen with half-closed eyes and saw the television was still open, but he simply waved his hand in annoyance and waltzed to his room, not in the mood to stay awake.
As soon as he entered his room, he plopped down on his bed with a cigarette still in his mouth. Without bothering to stuff it into an ashtray, he let it fall to the floor and closed his eyes.
Thump—a strange sound came from the living room. It was almost like the front door just closed shut.
Ward opened his eyes and listened hazily. His ears perked up. He could swear that he heard sounds that resembled footsteps.
Before he could think further about it, the door opened. It was strange because he lived alone and no one else had the keys—it could only mean one thing—there was an intruder.
"Ngh…" Ward sat up on his bed with a violent gaze. "Who goes there?"
A figure stopped hiding and entered the room—it was a surprisingly pretty young man, wearing a quite familiar jersey. Ward immediately recognized him as a student at Karuza High.
"Hello, Ward Loose." Kiernan pulled out his phone and showed Irio's government page. "It wasn't that hard to find a registered referee. All your information is basically public knowledge."
"Who the hell are you, brat?" Ward stood up with anger flashing across his eyes. "You came to rob me? If so, you waltzed into the wrong house. I don't hesitate to kill little shits like you."
"Remember the tournament you refereed a week ago?" Kiernan asked. "The first round: Jonathan Ackers versus Kiernan Hunter."
"Oh…" Ward's eyes narrowed into a straight line. "I do…"
"You failed to kill me." Kiernan said, but then touched the back of his head. "Well, actually, you succeeded."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ward asked angrily, and he innocently spread his arms wide. "Me, kill? I would never~"
Kiernan swung his arm and backhanded Ward across his face—it sent him tumbling to the ground with a bloodied nose.
"Agh, you little shit!" Ward jumped back to his feet with blood dripping from his nose.
"Just give me the truth." Kiernan said coldly. "I will then give you a merciful death."
"Hahaha…" Ward laughed manically. "You think it is easy to kill a person? I have seen what killing does to a person. Want to hear?"
"I am all ears." Kiernan spread his arms wide.
Ward slipped one of his hands into his pocket and said. "I am speaking the truth and only the truth now. Hahaha. Yes, I tried to kill you, but it seems I failed.
"You're not the first one I did it to. I had done it a couple, maybe a dozen, times. Sure, when a kid dies in a match, the mood turns all sorrowful and shit.
"However, the interesting part is their opponent. Hahaha. Because they think they killed them. Their innocence is ripped away in that moment, and some quit martial arts altogether because of it, but those who don't usually end up actually killing another one.
"Its marvelous. I can create so much mayhem and chaos with just a little manipulation."
"I see…" Kiernan nodded. "I didn't expect it to be your first time. You knew exactly what to do to kill me as cleanly and quietly as possible, so none of the spectators would notice."
"Thank, thank you." Ward laughed. "I am pretty proud of myself."
"However, I am afraid that I lied." Kiernan showed his fist. "I'll kill you, maybe cleanly; it depends on how much you struggle. But it will be far from merciful.
"There is an afterlife, you see, and oh boy, that place is not a good one for people like you.
"After you die, say hello to Death from me. I am sure he misses me."
"You think you can scare me with such words?" Ward asked and moved into a low fighting stance. "Afterlife. Death. Blah blah, none of that shit exists!"
"You'll have a nice surprise waiting for you, then." Kiernan said with a chuckle.
"By the way, are you sure you want to fight me?" Ward grinned and pulled out his phone from the phone. It showed a messaging screen. "I sent a text to the cops. I have priority as a referee. They'll be here within minutes.
"You already broke and entered my property. If you attack me, that will be an assault, which I believe I can stretch to attempted murder. You'll be gone for a long time."
"A few minutes?" Kiernan's eyes turned serious. "That will be plenty."
"You little shit…" Ward dropped his phone on the dirty floor and leaped forward. "Kids like you need to learn some respect!"
"Iron Smash!" Kiernan smashed his fist into Ward's face and sent him flying across the room.
Ward's plump body crashed into a wall, leaving a large dent in the drywall.
Spurt—Kiernan's hand turned purple and broken—it was also bleeding rather heavily.
Ward panted heavily and rushed to his drawer—there, he quickly grabbed a combat knife and brandished it towards Kiernan, a crazed look in his eyes.
"This isn't a fucking tournament match!" Ward rushed in with the knife. "This is real life!"
Kiernan grabbed Ward's dirty bed with one hand, and all his muscles strained as he slowly picked it up.
"Iron Style, Gaia's Embrace, weak version!"
The bed flew across the room and slammed into Ward, sending him crashing into the wall. The bed toppled over next to him.
"Rgh…" Kiernan looked at his arm and noticed that his muscles were bleeding. He had pushed himself too far, even though it was only a weak version of the skill.
"I am a former national competitor! Don't mess with me!" Ward, with a mad cry, lunged forward with the knife.
"A former clearly." Kiernan switched to his fighting style. "You're unfit—you must've poisoned yourself with cigarettes and alcohol."
"How dare you judge me?!" Ward swung the knife down, but it missed by an inch.
Kiernan reeled in his left hand, and it suddenly looked like a sharp knife.
"Iron Style, Iron Lance!" With a quick thrust, he stabbed his hand through Ward's chest.
Blood spurted out in all directions—the framed pictures on the walls were now splattered with red.
Kiernan pulled back his hand and stepped back to examine his injuries—all the fingers on his left hand were broken, except for his thumb.
"It hurts!" Ward dropped his knife and collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest in pain.
At that moment, loud police sirens reverberated from outside. Their blue and red lights flashed through the windows, illuminating the room in a kaleidoscope of colors.
"Hahaha…" Ward let out a weak chuckle. "I-I survived… y-you'll pay for this."
"You don't understand." Kiernan forcefully put his broken right hand into a fist. "You're already dead."
He then lowered his stance and reeled in his right arm—it was trembling because his fist was broken and muscles were bleeding profusely—but it still started radiating a powerful aura.
From his shoulder to the elbow and finally his hand, it looked like his entire arm started rotating like a bullet. Crack. Crack. All his bones, one by one, started breaking.
"Argh…" Kiernan grunted in pain with red eyes. "I created this skill a few days before my death. You're the first one to see it."
"A-ah…" Ward shakily opened his mouth. "P-police, hurry up!"
"Iron Style…" Kiernan clenched his fist. It caused his entire arm to break. The pain was excruciating, but he still wanted to see the skill through.
"H-hurry!" Ward screamed hoarsely, hoping for the police to break through the door.
"Hyperion's…" Kiernan punched forward, and with the rotating power, it smashed into Ward's chest like a drill of destruction. "Smash!"
Ward crashed into the wall on the other side of the room. His clothes were ripped open, and there was a large dent in his chest where blood seeped out, staining the fabric.
[You have a defeated High Stage Martial Soldier!]
[The First Kill Achieved!]
Kiernan stopped moving—his right arm was entirely broken—it was entirely purple with black bruising.
"Whoo…" Still, he smiled.
Boom—at that moment, the front door broke down as police rushed in, guns drawn and shouting orders.
They checked the kitchen and the living room—both empty—then finally moved to the bedroom.
There, they came across a terrifying sight—the owner of the residence, Ward Loose, dead on the ground. The assailant was nowhere to be seen.