“Surround him. I’ll take the front. You go behind.”

  The tall man with long hair barked the order, and his bald partner silently obeyed, circling behind Ethan.

  Emma knelt beside the unconscious Clara, pressing her glowing palm against the girl’s bloodied face—healing, but never lowering her gaze from Ethan and the enemies closing in.

  Maya stood at Emma’s side, guarding them. She watched the enemy carefully, her body tense.

  (Those claws... disgusting.)

  The bald man’s fingernails had morphed into saber-like talons, dripping with some viscous fluid. In contrast, the long-haired one held no visible weapon. That, more than anything, made Emma uneasy.

  “Hee hee hee... More girls... so many more girls...”

  The bald man stepped forward, his grin widening. His sick anticipation was clear.

  “Hey, pretty boy, let me explain how this works. One scratch from my claws, and you’ll be writhing in agony for fifteen minutes before you die. And while you're squirming on the ground, I’ll have some fun with your little friends.”

  His gaze shifted lewdly toward Emma, drool spilling from his mouth.

  Emma didn't even flinch. Still healing Clara, she met his stare with ice in her eyes.

  “Ethan. Kill that one slowly. I won’t stop you.”

  Her voice was calm, controlled fury.

  “Understood. Since you asked so nicely...”

  Ethan slid his hands into his pockets, his body loose, as if disinterested—measuring the distance between him and his enemies with the ease of a man preparing to end a game already won.

  The aurora overhead shimmered violently. The temperature dropped.

  Maya could feel it. The tension. Two more steps. One. And—

  The bald man lunged, claws slashing toward Ethan’s neck.

  At the same instant, the long-haired man thrust forward, as though wielding an invisible spear.

  Their perfectly timed assault should have killed Ethan on the spot.

  But it didn’t.

  Ethan was no longer standing. He had dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut—completely limp—and both attacks sliced through empty air.

  What followed was not silence. It was a scream.

  A guttural, animal cry of pain, echoing under the aurora.

  The bald man’s knees had been pierced through—by high-velocity five-hundred-cent coins.

  The long-haired man’s wrists exploded in blood as matching coins tore through them, spraying crimson in arcs against the frozen sky.

  Ethan had fired them—his signature move, a technique of Duality Martial Arts known as Sonic Bullet.

  “I don’t take pleasure in your screaming. But I hope you understand it.”

  Still lying on his back, Ethan raised one hand—and fired again.

  Coins whistled through the air, striking with uncanny precision: eyes, throat, joints, groin. Over and over.

  "First shot: disable. Second: dismantle. There’s no third. You’re not getting away."

  His voice was emotionless, surgical. Each flick of his fingers bent the air. Sonic booms cracked like divine whips. The coins tore through nerves like they had been programmed to find pain.

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  “This isn’t justice. This is the science of killing.”

  Ethan’s eyes were cold. Not cruel—just resolute. The eyes of an executioner, not a soldier.

  “Aagh—! It hurts—!”

  The bald man writhed, unable to crawl, his knees shattered. And then Ethan’s kick struck like a thunderbolt.

  Judgment Fang—a technique rooted in taekwondo—shattered the man's cervical spine, ending him instantly.

  The long-haired man sobbed as he tried to crawl away, but he, too, could not move.

  “Please—please! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t kill me—!”

  Ethan didn’t reply.

  He simply raised his heel and brought it down.

  Crater Drop.

  The man’s skull cracked like pottery, the sound echoing against the ice.

  Maya swallowed hard. She had seen strength before—but Ethan’s was something else. Not just deadly. Precise. Inevitable.

  (Will I ever be that strong...?)

  She didn’t know. But she remembered Emma’s words: You’ll get stronger—with Beatrice as your guide.

  Maya clenched her fists. She would not be left behind.

  Without pause, Ethan grabbed the unconscious man in military boots and slammed a palm into his face.

  “Wake up. It’s time to sing.”

  His tone was flat, almost bored.

  “Who gave you your orders? Where are they now?”

  The man blinked, gasping awake. “It... it was Lord Ezekiel... the assistant headmaster of Lumen Dei University. He’s... probably with the headmaster right now. A truly enlightened man... one who embraces desire...”

  Ezekiel.

  The name hit Maya like a punch to the chest.

  (It’s him... He did this to that girl...!)

  She trembled with rage, her breath sharp.

  “And where is this university?” Ethan continued, unfazed.

  “In Trolon, the academic city of the Nordica Republic... But you’re better off not going. You won’t survive. Heeheehee...”

  Ethan sliced the man’s throat with a swift edge of his hand—Head Hunt—ending the interrogation.

  He had asked exactly three questions.

  Anyone who looked into Ethan’s gray, gleaming eyes for five seconds could not lie.

  That was his Exceed:

  Veritas Chain.

  “Well played, Ethan. I was impressed you saw through Long-Hair’s trick,” Emma said, smiling.

  “He was suspicious. No weapon, but too confident. Either he made his weapon invisible, or he turned his bloodlust into a weapon itself. Either way, honor doesn’t apply to cowards.”

  His words were casual, but Emma knew better.

  He had taken this fight alone—so she and Maya wouldn’t have to.

  It made her proud. And a little sad.

  (Ethan always does this. Carries the burden. Decides it's his alone. He never tells anyone. Not even me. And I’ve been angry about that before. But… he’s just trying to protect us.)

  “Ezekiel...”

  The girl stirred. Her voice was weak, but filled with terror.

  Emma leaned close. “It’s okay. They’re all gone. You’re safe now.”

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  Her scream tore through the night sky—and through their minds like a blade.

  “Calm down!”

  Emma winced, but held the girl close. She pressed a palm to the girl’s head—Healing Palm—to ease her trauma and soothe her brain.

  But the girl wouldn’t stop.

  Still sobbing, she clawed at Emma’s neck—raking flesh, drawing blood.

  Maya rushed in, grabbing her arm and pulling her off.

  Emma didn’t stop healing.

  Ethan approached, made a spear-hand with two fingers, and struck the girl’s neck.

  Spinal Tap.

  She collapsed instantly, unconscious.

  “Thanks, Ethan. That should keep her out for ten hours. The trauma’s deep. We need to get her back to Luna.”

  Emma exhaled. But she smiled. (She’s an Exceed user... she’s been through hell. But we made it in time.)

  “I’ll carry her,” Maya said, lifting the girl gently.

  Emma nodded and healed her own bleeding neck.

  “Thanks, Maya. Good work on your first mission.”

  Maya simply nodded. She felt like she hadn’t done enough.

  Maya

  Even now, with the girl quiet on her back, Maya could still hear her screams echoing in her chest.

  Sophia’s letter. That basement. This child.

  Why does no one stop it? Why does no one save them?

  And then—

  For the first time, something inside her ignited. A fire brighter than rage.

  (I won’t forgive you.)

  (Ezekiel... I’m going to end you. With my own hands.)

  Veritas Chain.

  Ethan’s fight wasn't just about defense—it was a message. Emma’s endurance wasn’t just kindness—it was strength. And Maya’s vow at the end? It changes everything.

  Comments and feedback mean more than you know.

  check out my Substack article here:

  https://open.substack.com/pub/knishi2050/p/why-i-wrote-hells-returners?r=5wfkgu&utm_medium=ios)

  I'm really honored you stayed with Maya's journey this far.

  There's a lot more to come, and your support means everything ??