Chapter 35 Identity of the Main Villain

The Man in the Raincoat looked down at the three broken children. 

"You know what? For entertaining me, I will grant you a quick death."

He raised his hand, a terrifying darkness, deeper than any night, gathered above his palm, swirling into a ball of pure black.

 "Erosion Wave!"

The wave began to descend. But then a sound came from somewhere else.

From the side, a crescent blade of impossibly compressed air, visible only by the way it distorted the light, sliced across the battlefield. It passed clean through the torso of the S-tier Lava Golem. The monster paused, a line appearing across its middle. Its upper half slid from the lower, collapsing into two massive, melting piles of rock and lava, then exploded into pillars of ice.

The air sickle didn't stop. It continued its path, slamming directly into the descending Erosion Wave.

 The wave of darkness was blown away.

The force of the air sickle wasn't spent. Its remaining energy shot forward and smashed directly into the chest of the Man in the Raincoat.

WHUMP!

The impact was solid and sent him stumbling back a single, sharp step. The blow was powerful enough to knock the wide-brimmed hat from his head. It tumbled through the air and landed on the ground, neatly split into two perfect halves.

The shadows that had obscured his face dissolved like smoke in the wind, vanishing completely.

He stood revealed.

He was a man of graceful age, in his late fifties. His hair was a striking white-grey, styled impeccably. A sharp, well-groomed goatee framed a stern mouth. And running from his forehead, down past his eye, and onto his cheek was a deep, old scar from a battle long past.

He was stunned for a moment, his hand instinctively coming up to touch the spot where the air sickle had struck. Then, he let out a long, weary sigh, as if a tedious appointment had finally arrived.

"Ahhh... It would seem I have played for far too long. I guess it's true what they say, time flies when you're having fun. Didn't even see our new guest arrive."

He lifted his head, his scarred face turning to look at the source of the attack.

"And what a quest, just you look who the cat dragged in. The Witch King himself."

The man with the scar looked at Kenji, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. He made a graceful, mocking gesture with his hand, tipping a hat that was no longer there.

"I would love to chat and catch up for the old times, but I have what I came for."

 A swirling void of darkness opened behind him.

 "No need to overstay my welcome."

He began to step backward, his form already beginning to fade at the edges.

 "But don't go missing me too much. I'll be back soon enough. Ta ta!" 

It was then that Kenji got a clear, unobstructed look at the man's revealed face. The cold mask of the Witch King shattered. His eyes open wide in disbelief, then narrowed into slits of burning rage.

"YOU! I know that face! How are you alive?!"

Kenji moved.

 One moment he was on the ruined building. The next, he was standing where the void had been, his fist—burning with white energy—smashed into the empty space where the Man's face had been a fraction of a second earlier.

The punch didn't hit its target, but the shockwave it released was devastating. The ground where Kenji stood erupted, and a visible dome of compressed air blasted outward, clearing the remaining smoke and dust for a hundred meters.

But it was too late. The void was gone. The man was gone.

"GOD DAMN IT! How is he still alive?! This can't be! Lycoris defeated him! How is he here?!"

He finally lowered his fist. He looked around, his gaze landed first on Shota, who was still trembling, holding his barrier against the fading heat.

"Hey, you! What is the situation here?!"

He strode toward him, his powerful frame radiating an intense energy.

Seeing Mirai's father, Shota's barrier above them flickered and died.

"Mr. Kenji! We need help! Enji-kun is badly hurt! Instructor Arata is buried in the rubble! And Mirai-chan! She's... she's badly hurt too! We need to help them, now!"

Kenji's head snapped to where Shota pointed. His eyes locked onto his daughter's broken form, lying motionless in a pool of her own blood. For a split second, the mighty Witch King was gone. His face paled. He actually stumbled, his step faltering, before he broke into a full sprint.

"Mirai!"

 He skidded to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her, afraid to touch her and cause more pain. 

"Mirai, is she alive?! Mirai, your father is here! Everything will be alright! Hold on! Just hold on a little longer! Help is on the way!"

He shoved his finger against his comms unit, "Support team on me! NOW! WE NEED A HEALING TEAM! I repeat, we need a healing team ASAP! We have critical injured here! Multiple casualties!"

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A Few Days Later 

 Soft afternoon light filtered through the window, illuminating Mirai as she slept in the hospital room. Worst of her injuries had been treated by the best healing magic available. Her hair fanned out across the pillow, a splash of color against the white. In this quiet light, she just looked like a pretty, normal girl.

Shota sat in a chair beside her bed, his minor injuries healed. This was the longest he had ever looked at her without her knowing. Without her looking back with those intense, consuming eyes.

The memory of her broken body on the concrete, the sight of her pushing herself up with that blinding white light to save him—it was burned into him. It wasn't just about needing her anymore. It was about the terrifying, overwhelming fear of losing her.

He didn't know what to say when she woke up.

 "Thank you" felt too small.

 "I'm sorry" felt like a lie. 

So, he just sat, keeping watch, listening to Lycoris, waiting for the color to return to his world.

"SHOTA-CHAN! You were incredibly reckless with your mana! Blasting barriers left and right without a second thought. A child could have managed it better. Let me give you a simple example, since you seem to need one. Imagine my situation like this: I am in a deep, deep well. Your mana is the water in that well.

When your mana is full, the well is filled to the top with water. I am floating right at the surface. I can speak, and you can hear me clearly. We can talk. But when you use your magic, you are bailing water out. A little bit for a small barrier, a huge bucketful for a big one. In that last fight, you were throwing whole buckets out left and right. You used so much, so fast, that the well ran dry."

The vision in his head showed an empty, dark well, with a tiny figure at the very bottom.

"With no water, no mana, I was stuck at the very bottom. I could shout, I could scream, but my voice couldn't reach you. I was trapped in the dark, unable to help, unable to even warn you. That is what it felt like. Do you understand now, Shota? You must be mindful of the well. I was able to reach you only when it was too late."

Shota watched Mirai sleep for another long moment. Then, he gave a small nod.

"I understand. I won't let the well run dry again."

"Shota-chan, there is something more. About the man in the raincoat. I knew him. The moment the shadows cleared, and I saw his face through your eyes... I recognized him. He is the one. Ten years ago. That day at the toy store. The explosion that took your friends... that destroyed my body... it was him.

He was a Pro Wizard, once, a powerful one. His name is Victor Creed. On that day, he and his faction made their move. He used many S-tier kaiju to occupy and distract the other top Pro Wizards across the city. And then… he and five other high-level villains cornered me.

I defeated them. I dealt with his allies. And I struck Victor Creed with my Black Flame. I watched his body burn. Our fight… it ended in what should have been a mutual defeat. A draw.

We both should have died that day. I sealed my broken body away at the last second, thinking I had taken my killer with me. But it seems… it seems he also survived. He must have used a similar, desperate trick. A contingency." 

Shota sat very still, the sterile hospital air feeling like the ash-filled air of the past. The enemy now had a name, a history, and a direct, bloody line straight to the core of his being. The fight was no longer just about protecting Tokyo or his friends. It was about settling a score ten years in the making.

"So. It was him. That day. He did that. He took everything. And now he's back to take more. I'll stop him, I'll make him pay. He won't get away again."