“DON’T YOU DARE UNDERESTIMATE ME, YOU ARROGANT SON OF A BITCH!” the villain screamed, a thick vein bulging from his forehead.

  Like a human missile, he unleashed a flurry of blows. Fists like hammers, elbows like blades, spinning kicks. Every strike created gusts of wind, tremors in the ground, cracks in the asphalt. He moved like a rabid beast… and yet, nothing landed.

  The man in the suit didn’t back away. He didn’t even seem to try.

  He just moved enough.

  A step to the left, an open palm to redirect a punch. A slight lean of the torso, as if dodging a breeze. His face remained neutral—almost bored—as if he already knew all the steps in the dance.

  “Your punches are strong,” he commented casually, blocking another attack with his forearm.

  “SHUT UP!” the villain barked, spitting with rage.

  His strikes became more erratic, more desperate. Whatever technique he once had was crumbling under the weight of his frustration.

  The man in the suit sighed.

  “Hey, if you’ve got a special move, now’s the time to use it.” Then, with a sarcastic smile, he added, “Is this really all you’ve got?”

  “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UUUUP!” the villain roared, raising both arms and slamming them down toward the ground.

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  BOOM!

  The impact shattered the concrete like soggy cardboard. A cloud of dust enveloped the area. Nearby buildings trembled from the shockwave.

  For a moment, nothing could be seen.

  Then, through the smoke, a calm voice spoke:

  “I think it’s time to wrap this up.”

  As the dust cleared, the man in the suit was standing right behind the villain.

  No noise. No puff of air. Like a ghost.

  The villain barely turned his head, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw how close he was.

  “How…?”

  He felt something he had never felt before—true, paralyzing fear. The kind that twists your gut and freezes your lungs. It was the first time since childhood he had known real fear. It completely disoriented him.

  “Surprise,” the man whispered into his ear.

  One punch.

  The suited man’s fist lashed out like a whip, striking the side of the villain’s neck. It wasn’t a blow full of flashy power or flashy effects… but the villain’s entire body was launched into the air.

  It was as if he’d been hit by a meteor. He flew upward like a flung stone, spinning out of control.

  CRACK!

  He slammed into a concrete highway pillar, which cracked with a dry snap. His body stuck there, trembling, blood trickling from his mouth, eyes rolling back.

  Silence. Absolute.

  The man pulled a white handkerchief from his inner pocket and dusted off his knuckles.

  “There’s always some nutjob with a supervillain complex on a Monday,” he muttered with a sigh.

  And without looking back, he turned to leave.

  But first, he lowered his sunglasses just enough to look the villain in the eye—barely conscious, hanging there like meat.

  “That’s what happens when you lay a finger on a child in front of me, scum.”

  And he walked away, as if it were nothing.

  Behind him, the villain stared in horror at his legs still on the ground, his body torn halfway through and bleeding uncontrollably, just before slipping into unconsciousness.