A few days passed in the Valcor household, quiet days that felt almost surreal after two months of constant survival pressure.
Damian spent the ti with his family, trying to reconnect with the normal life he’d left behind when that portal opened.
Luna barely left his side, her presence constant and comforting, her silver eyes watching him with understanding that ran deeper than words.
Lyandra returned to her usual overprotective self, cooking elaborate als and fussing over every small injury or sign of exhaustion.
Alaric maintained his stern but supportive presence, offering silent companionship without demanding conversation.
It was peaceful and healing.
But the outside world continued spinning regardless of personal needs.
The news networks still buzzed with coverage of Damian’s ergence from the portal.
Every channel analyzing the footage, social platforms discussing the implications and experts offering opinions on what it ant for awakener developnt.
"Sixteen-year-old student eliminates entire Monster army single-handedly!"
"Damian Valcor: The strongest first-year in the Federation history?"
"Military analysts stunned by physical capabilities displayed by returning portal survivor!"
The attention was overwhelming and relentless.
But Damian ignored most of it, focusing instead on reconnecting with what actually mattered.
On the third day ho, he finally opened the Mafia group communication channel.
His old Academy watch had been destroyed during the portal teleportation, lost sowhere in that alien dinsion.
Alaric had provided him with a new communication device – top-of-the-line military grade equipnt that made Academy watches look primitive by comparison.
The mont he activated it, Aiko’s mature voice ca through it.
"Welco back, Damian. It’s good to see you survived."
Her voice carried what might have been genuine relief, though with an AI it was hard to tell.
"Good to be back. Connect to the Mafia group channel."
The holographic display shifted, showing the group communication interface.
Damian’s eyes widened slightly seeing how many new nas had been added during his absence.
The original thirty-one student mbers were still there, but now there were hundreds more. City operations people. Managent teams. Combat specialists... The organization had grown massively.
’They didn’t wait for it seems. Built and expanded on their own initiative. Good. That’s what I wanted. An organization that functions independently, not one that collapses the mont I’m not there to micromanage.’
He scrolled through recent ssages, seeing coordination between different teams, reports on territorial expansion, updates on infrastructure projects.
Everything running smoothly despite his two-month absence.
Satisfaction swelled in his chest.
’Mike and the others have done excellent work. Better than I could have hoped for.’
But he didn’t send any ssages yet. Just observed, learning what had changed while he was gone.
Then he closed the group channel and addressed Aiko directly.
"Why hasn’t Gia decided to et with yet? My patience is wearing thin. Later on, I might not even need her help anymore."
His voice carried irritation that had been building for months.
Aiko paused a bit, before replying.
"Like I told you previously, Gia knows everything I know about you. Every single conversation and action... She has complete access to my data logs.
But I will try to speak with her about arranging a eting. I cannot promise results, but I will make the attempt."
Damian nodded, satisfied with that much at least.
"Good. Now connect with Mike."
The communication interface shifted, establishing a secure connection.
Mike’s weathered face appeared on the holographic display after a few monts, his expression professional.
"Boss, it’s good to–"
"Have those students been killed?"
Damian’s voice was cold, cutting straight through pleasantries.
Mike went silent, his scarred face showing he knew exactly which students Damian ant.
It was those twenty-three nas from Stormhold Academy. The rapists who’d been marked for execution before Damian disappeared into the portal.
After several long seconds, Mike responded quietly.
"...Yes. All twenty-three targets were eliminated. We made it look like accidents, inner Noble conflicts and random violence with no direct connections to the Mafia."
Damian’s expression didn’t change, showing no satisfaction or remorse.
"But?"
Mike sighed heavily.
"Although I made sure no evidence ties back to us, the Noble families might eventually figure it out anyway.
Not through investigation, but through the simple commonality that all twenty-three were students who’d raped commoner girls. The pattern is there for anyone paying attention."
"Good work."
Damian’s voice remained flat.
"Also... Make sure no one in the organization is breaking any Mafia rules. If I find out anyone crossed my lines, if anyone is exploiting their position for personal gratification or harming anyone under our protection–"
"Young sir Damian."
Mike interrupted gently, his old voice carrying patience.
"I’m an old man who has been doing this for forty years. I know what will happen if anyone crosses your boundaries. I’m making sure nothing like that occurs. You can rest easy without worrying. The organization is clean."
Damian was quiet for a mont, then nodded.
"...Understood. Continue the good work. I’ll return to the city soon."
He ended the call without ceremony.
****
An hour later, Damian stood outside the Valcor residence waiting.
A car pulled up, sleek black civilian model, and the window rolled down revealing Brian’s familiar face.
"Need a ride?"
Brian’s smile was genuine, warm.
Damian climbed into the passenger seat, and for the first ti in days, felt like he could actually relax.
"Rough past few weeks?"
Brian asked as they pulled away from the house, his tone light but his eyes showing a aningful look.
Damian sighed heavily, leaning back in the seat.
"You have no idea."
Brian reached into the compartnt between them and pulled out two bottles of Phoenix, the expensive alcohol that Damian drank previously.
He handed one to Damian without a word.
Damian raised an eyebrow.
"Shouldn’t you not drink while driving?"
Brian shrugged, already opening his own bottle.
"Who’s going to give an SFD officer shit about having a drink? One of the few perks of the job."
Damian also shrugged and opened his bottle, taking a long drink.
The alcohol burned pleasantly, warmth spreading through his chest.
They drove in comfortable silence for several minutes, the city lights passing by outside, both of them drinking steadily.
"You know what I realized?"
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