Before the man could finish speaking, a leg glowing with golden light ca crashing down.
Carrying terrifying force, Matthew's kick struck him square in the chest.
With a thunderous boom, the sheer power blasted the man straight through the wooden floor beneath him, sending his entire body plunging into the lake below with a violent splash.
Matthew lowered his gaze to the gaping hole in the floorboards and the lake water surging beneath it.
Then he turned and killed the remaining few who were still alive.
Whether they had personally participated or not, anyone connected to Kleiner had to die.
Revenge ant wiping them out completely.
As for the psychological aftereffects of killing?
There were none.
Unless it was so grueso, mangled scene of blood and flesh sickening enough to make soone vomit, the fear people felt after killing usually ca from sothing else—the fear of being investigated afterward, of legal judgnt, of punishnt.
But Matthew, now in possession of extraordinary power, no longer cared about such things.
Daniel had once taught him:
"When you kill, you must bear the consequences. But if you decide soone absolutely must die, then use everything you've learned to erase every trace and make sure the law can never judge you."
Now that he knew the truth and had killed all the gunn, Matthew left the cabin.
He got into one of the cars those n had driven there and headed straight for Kleiner Manor.
Kleiner Manor was well known throughout Magrave Town.
Under the dark night sky, rain pattered against the windshield as twin headlights cut through the muddy, isolated road.
In the driver's seat, the shell casing necklace around Matthew's neck swayed slightly, reflecting a cold brass-colored gleam.
…
Police Station.
It was already late at night.
Most of the station was dim and quiet, but the detective's office was still brightly lit, with rainwater dampening the windowsill outside.
Sitting behind the desk was a Black police officer, sowhat short and heavyset. His suit was neat, his tie perfectly straight, and glasses rested on his face. Under the glow of the desk lamp, he was flipping through the docunts in his hand, trying to piece together so useful clues.
At that mont, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway outside.
Without even knocking, the door swung open and a slim female officer walked in.
She had delicate features, blonde hair tied into a ponytail, and wore a shirt with dark police trousers. Her entire bearing was clean, sharp, and efficient.
"Roscoe?"
The Black officer looked up, slight confusion in his eyes.
Roscoe stepped quickly to the desk, her voice urgent.
"Matthew is missing."
"What?"
The officer shot to his feet so suddenly that he accidentally knocked over the cup of coffee beside him, but he paid it no attention.
"Earlier, I passed by Matthew's house. The lights were off. I knocked, but no one answered. His neighbor, Mark, said he saw him leave around six."
"It's already ten."
The officer glanced at his watch and imdiately realized sothing was wrong.
"Yes. Matthew has always lived on a strict routine, just like Chief Daniel did. At this hour, he absolutely wouldn't still be out."
Although Roscoe had joined the police force less than two years ago, she had been closest to Chief Daniel.
When she first entered the departnt, Daniel had taken her under his wing, so she knew both him and Matthew very well—including their habits and routines.
When Chief Daniel died a month ago and the police released that official explanation, she had been one of the people least willing to believe it.
She knew Daniel was a retired veteran, a man hardened by countless battles.
How could a few drug traffickers possibly have killed him?
That was why she and Detective Finlay—who had also joined the departnt not too long ago—had been secretly investigating the matter ever since.
As for Matthew, Roscoe had made a point of driving past his house during patrols throughout the past month.
But she had never expected that today, Matthew would disappear.
"Damn it. Daniel really was caught up in sothing bigger. I didn't expect Matthew to be dragged into it too… Could it be he knows sothing important?"
Finlay frowned deeply.
"Whether Matthew was kidnapped, or whether he discovered sothing and went into hiding, we need to find him imdiately and keep him safe."
After a mont of rapid thought, Finlay looked at Roscoe standing before him.
"Roscoe, we can't involve anyone else in the departnt in the search for Matthew."
"You an…?"
Roscoe frowned. The implication behind those words was obvious.
"Get Big Guy too. We don't have much ti."
As soon as he finished speaking, Finlay grabbed the coat hanging on the rack beside him. After putting it on, he left the station at once with Roscoe.
…
Kleiner Manor.
It was the most luxurious residence in all of Magrave, a textbook rich man's estate. One glance was enough to see its extravagance and grandeur.
The entrance was a towering wrought-iron gate, decorated with intricate patterns that made it look both sturdy and refined. On either side stood two thick stone pillars.
Ivy climbed around the pillars, giving them a strangely vibrant touch of life.
Beyond the gate stretched a long driveway, lined on both sides with neatly trimd hedges.
At the end of it stood the main building—a massive white villa three stories tall. Its outer walls were made of white marble, making it look especially dazzling even in the rain-soaked night.
As for the owner of the estate, Kleiner, he was a middle-aged man.
He wore glasses, his expression cold and severe, with streaks of gray already threading through his hair. Dressed in custom-made sleepwear, he sat in the luxurious living room, holding a wine glass and gently swirling the liquor inside, as though calmly waiting for sothing.
Around him stood a group of heavily built n, silent and imposing.
And not just here—throughout the entire estate, dozens of ard security personnel were stationed.
This was his private force, carefully built over the years.
Kleiner was waiting for news.
But as ti passed and there was still no word from Downton—the man he had sent to deal with Daniel's adopted son—a trace of unease began to rise in his heart.
At the sa ti, outside the manor gates, the guards on duty noticed headlights approaching from the distant road.
They imdiately focused their attention.
The car stopped in front of the gate.
The floodlights above the iron gate illuminated the vehicle, and they instantly recognized it—it was familiar.
But why was there only one car?
While the guards were still confused, the car door opened.
A stranger stepped out.
He was young.
The guards froze for a split second before reacting, reaching for their guns—
but they were already too late.
A dazzling burst of golden light exploded into the night.
The young man transford into a golden beam that tore through the darkness, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye.
A right leg glowing with golden light ca crashing toward them, carrying explosive force as it whipped across their necks.
The terrifying impact sent all of them flying instantly.
Blood sprayed into the air.
The sheer force even smashed the iron gate apart, sending the broken tal hurtling dozens of ters inward before it slamd into the ground with a thunderous crash.
The guards died on the spot.
Standing where they had fallen, Matthew looked toward the distant mansion, now clearly alerted by the commotion.
Without hesitation, he transford into light once more and shot straight toward it.
A long streak of golden light tore across the ground behind him, splitting the muddy earth and the curtain of rain in two.
At the mansion, several ard n had just stepped outside to see what was happening.
Before they could even make sense of what they were looking at, their vision was completely filled by a golden-glowing foot—
growing larger and larger.
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