Shattered Homecoming

A gentle breeze rustled the dark leaves of a lone cypress tree in Blackwood Cemetery, situated on the quiet outskirts of the West Side of Zenith.

A tall male figure stood before a cold marble tombstone. He did not move a single muscle, remaining as still as a statue carved from grief. His dark eyes locked onto the engraved words catching the dim light.

*Here lies Lyra Braddock, beloved daughter of Arthur Braddock.*

The man was Kaelen Vance. He stared at the black-and-white photograph etched into the stone, tracing the smiling face of the woman he loved. His handsome face was marred by endless sorrow and a regret so deep it threatened to consume him.

He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a fallen leaf away from her name. "Lyra, I made it back! Why didn't you wait for me?"

Tears welled in his eyes as a familiar memory pierced his mind. He could still hear a beautiful girl speaking to him in a timid, gentle voice, urging him not to cry, begging him to stay strong in the face of despair.

Six years had passed since that chaotic night at the banquet. Kaelen had plunged a knife into a corrupt government official to protect his girlfriend from harm. The bloody aftermath forced him to flee Zenith, leaving the Core Federation’s capital for the desolate, unforgiving wasteland. He left Lyra behind, believing her prominent family status would shield her from the political fallout.

He never expected to return and find her buried in the cold earth.

Those six years in the wasteland were a relentless trial of blood and survival. While on the run, Kaelen had saved a dying old man who gifted him an ancient manual known as the *Secret Records of the War Deity*. Kaelen used the knowledge to claw his way out of the mud. He trained in the most lethal techniques known to man. He challenged the most ruthless enemies across the barren territories. He fought, bled, and survived, driven solely by the stubborn hope of returning to this city to reunite with her.

Now, he had returned to the Core District. His imposing body bore countless scars, but he possessed power unmatched by any mortal force.

Kaelen dropped to one knee before the tombstone. The grief in his eyes shifted, replaced by a dark, murderous intent. "How did my girlfriend die?"

A massive shadow detached itself from the thick trunk of the cypress tree. A two-meter-tall muscular man stepped into the pale light, his massive frame commanding respect. "Sir, according to the investigation by the Phantom Squad, Miss Braddock passed away from birth complications."

A terrifying, intimidating aura exploded from Kaelen. The surrounding air seemed to drop in temperature, freezing the cemetery in an oppressive grip. "Birth complications?"

He turned around, his piercing gaze locking onto his subordinate. "When did this happen?"

The giant man sensed the threatening shift in the air and lowered his head in reverence. "Sir, it happened five years ago. To be precise, it was seven months after you left the Core District!"

The anger in Kaelen's eyes fractured. A sudden realization washed over his sharp features. "Seven months after I left? Gideon, do you mean..."

Gideon bowed deeper, his deep voice carrying a note of solemnity. "Yes, sir. We discovered that Miss Braddock was in a frail state. Despite receiving the best medical treatment, her body gave out during labor. However, due to the rushed urgency of our investigation, we have not uncovered answers to certain questions concerning her sudden decline in health."

Kaelen narrowed his eyes. He raised a single hand, the simple gesture silencing the giant instantly.

He turned back to the tombstone, his large hand gently caressing the cold photograph. His voice softened, carrying a promise meant only for her to hear. "Lyra, I owe you far too much. If we meet again in the next life, I am willing to do anything to make it up to you."

He stood up, his expression hardening into cold granite as he faced his subordinate. "Gideon, I want concrete answers. I have no use for dubious guesses. If this happens again, you know the consequences!"

A visible shudder ran through Gideon's massive frame. "Yes."

Kaelen let out a heavy sigh, his chest tightening with an emotion he had buried for years. "Where is my child with Lyra?"

Gideon kept his head bowed. "Sir, the little princess has been under Miss Braddock's parents' care since she was born. She is healthy and very beautiful!"

Kaelen extended his hand, his composed facade cracking with impatience. "Is there any photo? Show it to me now!"

Gideon seemed prepared for the request. He reached into his coat and presented a secure smartphone. Kaelen snatched it and quickly scrolled through the digital photo album. He stopped on an image of a little girl smiling up at the camera.

A warm, genuine smile blossomed across Kaelen's face. It was an expression that would have shocked the ruthless wasteland forces and underground organizations, who only knew him as an emotionless god of death.

He stared at the screen for a long time, committing every detail of his daughter's face to memory. Finally, he handed the phone back and looked at the tombstone one last time. "Lyra, don't worry. I will make sure to raise our daughter well as long as I live!"

He gazed at his girlfriend's photo longingly for several silent moments. Then, he adjusted his black trench coat, the sorrow washing away to leave a resolute, commanding presence. "Gideon, I will be going to my home first before heading to see my daughter. I shall raise my daughter by myself."

Miles away, deep in the Lower Precinct, Oak Lane was being torn apart. A massive demolition and development project had turned the once-lively neighborhood into a graveyard of shattered bricks, broken glass, and bent steel.

A sleek black luxury car slowed down and came to a halt by the dirty, debris-ridden road.

The heavy doors opened. Kaelen stepped out, followed closely by his trusted subordinate, Gideon Cross. In the wasteland, Gideon held a reputation as a ferocious killer, yet here, he shadowed Kaelen like a loyal hound.

Kaelen stood at the entrance of the lane. He breathed in the dust-filled air, steeling his nerves, before taking a steady step forward.

He walked two hundred meters past ruined foundations until he reached a solitary three-story building standing defiant amidst the wreckage.

The deafening roar of machinery shook the ground. Standing directly in the path of a heavy excavator was a gray-haired man. Edgar Vance held a rusted, dirt-caked shovel across his chest. His aged eyes burned with unbroken fury as he yelled over the mechanical din. "I will fight anyone who dares to demolish my house!"

A gang of local Lower Precinct thugs fanned out in front of the machine, brandishing metal bats and steel pipes. Their leader, a young man with sharp facial features and long, greasy hair, sneered at the old man.

He puffed out his chest, resting a heavy bat on his shoulder. "Old man, do not say that I didn't warn you! Do you even know who ordered this demolition project?"

The long-haired thug spat on the ground, eyeing Edgar with pure disdain. "You old bastard! How dare you stand in our way! Do you know who is behind this demolition project?"

Edgar tightened his grip on the wooden handle of his shovel. Years ago, he had commanded a net worth of tens of millions, but life had stripped him of his wealth. Now, he only had his pride and his home. "I don't care who you are! No one can tear down my home!"

The long-haired man glared at Edgar furiously and gestured to the rest of his crew. "You old bastard! Since you wish to die, I shall make your wish come true! Everyone, go and beat up this old bastard!"

The thugs roared in excitement, waving their metal bats. They charged forward like a pack of rabid wild dogs, eager for violence.

A sudden, unnatural gust of strong wind blew through the lane.

A ghostly figure materialized out of thin air, stepping between Edgar and the rushing mob. The movement was so fast it flitted and disappeared like a hallucination.

Instantly, a gust of cold wind seemed to swirl around the thugs before Edgar. A horrific symphony of snapping bone and tearing flesh echoed through the ruins, sounding exactly like a rapid series of firecrackers.

"Argh..."

The charging thugs screamed in sheer agony as their bones splintered under invisible blows. Blood sprayed in wide arcs, spilling onto the broken brick and stone floor.

The remaining thugs at the back of the pack froze in their tracks. They turned pale with terror after witnessing the sudden, horrifying scene unfolding before them. Pure horror widened their eyes. Inside the cabin of the roaring excavator, the operator slammed his hand on the ignition, stopping the machine in a heartbeat.

The long-haired leader dropped his bat and scrambled backward, hiding among the gang of standing thugs. "Who... Who was that?"

A gigantic figure stood over the groaning bodies. The massive man was none other than Gideon. He crossed his thick arms, glaring at the surviving thugs with a cold and ruthless gaze.

Any thug unfortunate enough to meet Gideon's intense stare felt as if they were being stabbed by physical blades. They quickly averted their eyes, shaking in fear. The chaotic scene fell into a terrified silence.

Gideon took a single, heavy step forward.

That was all it took. The remaining thugs broke rank and fled down the street, tripping over debris in their desperate rush to escape. None of them wanted to end up in horrible deaths like their unlucky friends groaning in the dirt.

Tap... Tap, tap...

A series of firm, measured footsteps sounded from afar, cutting through the silence and moving steadily closer.

Gideon stepped aside, bowing his massive head. "Sir!"

The fleeing thugs and Edgar watched a striking figure emerge from the settling dust. Kaelen appeared dressed in his black trench coat and a pair of tall combat boots. He walked smoothly through the scattered crowd of bodies and gradually approached the front of the house.

Clang!

The rusted shovel slipped from Edgar's trembling hands, hitting the stone ground. Hot tears spilled onto Edgar's weathered cheeks, cutting tracks through the thick layer of dust.

Kaelen stopped in front of his father. He looked at the stark gray strands mixed into his father's hair. He noted the deep, permanent wrinkles carved into his forehead and the corners of his eyes. A sharp ache pierced Kaelen's chest. It pained him deeply to see his proud father reduced to this state.

He ignored the dirt and the blood on the ground. Kaelen fell to his knees in the rubble.

"Dad, I'm back! I'm sorry for letting you suffer all these years!"

He looked up at the man who had raised him, a silent, deadly vow cementing in his heart.

Anyone who dares to bully my father shall pay with their blood!