Mack removed a few drops of sweat from his own face and dropped his own body over the chair behind him.

He was tired.

Not physically, but mentally. He had to focus too much on what he was doing.

Still seated, Mack searched for something in his pockets until he found on the right pocket.

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Mack lit one and put on his mouth, slowly dragging the smoke while he appreciated the view in front of him.

A bloody man without a single centimeter of skin over his body, no ears, no eyes, no tongue and with all fingers broken.

.

The smoke came out of Mack’s mouth as he kept looking at the still alive man in front of him.

Only the gods would know what Mack was thinking know.

But if someone paid attention to his eyes, they would see two long lines of tears coming from Mack’s eyes.

A silent cry, not for the man in front of him, not for joy, not for pain, a simple cry, a cry to release all those feelings of frustration, cowardice, and fear that made him run for all his life till this day, incapable of getting revenge for his father.

After a few seconds in that same position without moving, Mack raised his bloody right hand and took a long drag of smoke and, using his middle finger, threw the cigarette to the front.

The cigarette fell on the floor a few centimeters away from the scar faced man and the fire on the tip of the cigarette started to slowly increase in size bit by bit.

Not a second later, the fire spread over the floor and moved to the man’s feet as if it was a snake with his own will and burned even stronger, involving the man’s leg and then moving to the rest of the body, until the man’s body could not be seen anymore, only flames.

Amidst the flames, someone could even tell that the man said he was sorry, but no one would ever believe, because the man had no more tongue.

Hearing the crackling sound similar to a bonfire, Mack looked up as if trying to find something and said to himself.

‘Its done father, now you can rest in peace.’

After a few minutes, and with the man completely burned to ashes, Mack raised from the chair and slowly walked to the front of the airport.

There thousands of people surrounded the building, curious to know what that anomaly in the airport was, and in front of them, Mack saw hundreds of heavily armed soldiers.

The dissonant figure of Mack quickly got the attention of everyone and dozens of reporters started filming and transmitting live what was happening in that airport to several other news channels.

“Hear me well, Zealots, or should I call you all for what you truly are? Mages.”

Said Mack aloud, seeing he grabbed the attention of everyone.

“I will stay here for three days. If you don’t come, I will find you.”

Said Mack, raising his bloody right hand in the air.

“And destroy you all.”

Mack closed his right hand, and the entire airport behind him became an enormous pile of debris.

Seeing this, the soldiers pointed their guns at Mack, but before they could act, Mack jumped to the sky and vanished from everyone’s sight.

That day, all over the world, only one subject appeared on the news, while all kinds of media replayed the same footage of the airport being destroyed as if was a giant beer can.

[You are really going to wait for them, kid? It’s not a smart move]

Said Harlack, using the mind link while Mack flew back to the penthouse.

~tap~

~tap~

Mack landed and looked at the bald head of the man that was supposed to be doing this cleaning ages ago and said with a solemn voice.

“Of course, my intent is not to be effective or fast, but to show that no matter what they do, they have no hope of winning.”

Mack took a few steps and looked to the north from where he came.

“I want them to feel that not a single place on Earth is safe for them, just like I felt back then.”

[Did you not get your revenge for your father’s death already?]

Asked the old man, not understanding why Mack would keep delaying things if he could easily go and find them.

Mack’s gaze changed back to the old man, but Mack didn’t say anything and walked past him.

Once both were back to back, Mack finally said what was on his mind.

“This is not about my father now. This is for me.”

Said Mack, resuming his steps.

After taking a bath and cleaning his own clothes, Mack felt refreshed and practiced his sword movements again.

The old man, as usual, kept watching him and giving tips from time to time.

Two completely different people with only two things in common, their blood, and their passion for swords.

As Mack practiced, the old man suddenly felt nostalgic about his younger days. 

The memories were so many that he himself almost forgot of some. 

Thousands of years of life, that sometimes felt too much.

That was a life of someone that was almost immortal.

[Kid, I have something to ask you]

Seeing the weird tone of the old man, Mack stopped the movement he was doing and looked back.

[I… No, its just, just for the time being, I want you to use only swords during fights, you need to practice more and develop this style, this was originally for daggers and you will need to adapt him as you see the failures]

Mack felt something was odd, but seeing the old man changing subject so quickly, he thought the old man had his reasons.

[If it’s only that, I think is a good idea]

Said Mack, but the feeling that something was odd still kept bugging him.