He tore through the Holy Grail War, and you still call him a dragon?

"Ptui."

Fujiwara Shin'nosuke spat out a mouthful of blood as he finally escaped the heavily fortified perimeter around the Chen Family estate—an encirclement jointly enforced by agents of various noble families.

He was one of the bodyguards dispatched by the Gattuso family, specializing in assassination and tasked with eliminating any threat to a specific person the family elders had ordered protected—Chen Motong.

Blond hair and blue eyes, traits common among the Gattuso main line, were far too conspicuous in this country. That's why people like Fujiwara, with an Asian face, were mixed in to ensure the smooth execution of the mission.

Originally, they thought watching over a little girl would be easy. Unfortunately, the job had taken a sharp turn into chaos, with one unexpected headache after another.

First came the shocking moment when that Chen girl violently attacked the family head, spilling blood right then and there... The lead bodyguard of the Gattuso team immediately realized this could lead to open conflict between their protection target and the Chen family itself.

He wasted no time reporting to acting patriarch Frost. Frost's response was swift and absolute—protect Chen Motong at all costs. As for the Chen family? Ultimately irrelevant...

If the Chen family was destroyed, wouldn't that actually work in Gattuso's favor? No need to split the pie. And the now-homeless Chen Motong could simply be brought back to Europe—as the future matriarch of the Gattuso family.

With orders in hand, the Gattuso bodyguards immediately prepared to rush in and extract Chen Motong before she got surrounded—

Only to witness, dumbfounded, the young lady unleashing overwhelming might, repelling the elite suppression squads one after another and soaring off into the distance in style—leaving them choking on her exhaust fumes.

At that point, it was unclear who was supposed to be protecting whom.

The second surprise came at the estate's exit. The bodyguards had been ready to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with Chen Motong and break through the noble families' blockade.

But the unexpected happened: Chen father and daughter, one fleeing, one chasing, managed to slip away amid the chaos of noble agents clashing with the estate's armed forces.

The Gattuso team figured everyone was slacking off. But the moment they tried to sneak through, the noble agents suddenly became sharp-eyed again and laid into the blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners.

The team leader hastily raised his hands in surrender: "We're here to protect Miss Chen Motong! We're not the enemy! Please, let us through!"

But the noble families weren't buying it. With a look that screamed we see through your act, they barked back: "Stop playing dumb! We've known about your shady dealings all along! Gattuso and the Chen family are two sides of the same filthy coin! Birds of a feather, equally vile!"

The Gattuso leader, barely fluent in Chinese, stammered, frustrated, wanting to curse back but lacking the words—so he went straight into brawling and looked for a chance to escape.

With the Gattuso agents now embroiled in the noble families' street brawl, the situation descended into utter chaos.

Fujiwara Shin'nosuke was one of the few who managed a relatively smooth escape, thanks to his Genrin (Mystic Word): Jikan Zero (Time Zero)—a power that accelerated his own movement while slowing the passage of time around him, making it perfect for sudden retreats.

In this world, Time Zero was the signature Genrin of Hilbert Jean Ange, a famed leader among the hybrid-blood Secret Party.

Though Fujiwara's version didn't last as long as Ange's, it was more than enough for a bodyguard or assassin.

Still drained from overusing his ability, he jumped into a McLaren, started the engine, and let the roar of the powerful motor carry him away from the battleground around the Chen estate.

The roadside scenery rushed past in a blur. On the dashboard, the car's central display lit up.

Fujiwara spoke aloud: "This is No. 3. I've successfully left the Chen estate perimeter and am now searching for the target. Has anyone else made it out?"

Another voice crackled through the speakers:

"Roger. No. 5 has broken through. Roads 023 to 025 are under lockdown, likely another containment effort. The target probably took one of them. I'm on Route 025."

"Roger." Fujiwara activated the navigation system. "Anyone else locked onto a route? If not, I'm heading down Route 023."

Wind howled past her ears as the motorcycle engine screamed like a beast unleashed.

Nono once read in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance that riding a motorcycle was fundamentally different from other forms of travel. Sitting in a car, you're trapped in a box, watching the world fly past like a TV screen.

But on a motorcycle, you aren't just an observer. You're on the stage. You're the lead actor.

Like the Count of Monte Cristo, Nono felt she had broken free of her prison, now racing to exact vengeance on the scum who wronged her.

Based on a note she found, the heavily-modified Harley she was riding was a gift from a friend of the Ninja Master. Nono silently thanked the mysterious organization.

Soon, a black Pagani came into view. Nono drew her Beretta and aimed for its tires.

No matter how many doubles that man had, she would not let him escape. The boiling dragon blood in her veins pumped oxygen and fury to her brain, driving her forward.

Suddenly, danger prickled her senses. Sharp and aware, Nono yanked the handlebars, dodging a Hummer H1 that had veered onto the road.

From the passenger window, a black shotgun barrel emerged. At this range, evading all the buckshot was almost impossible.

"Mercenaries brought in from elsewhere?"

As the gunman gaped in surprise, Nono braked hard, swung her white-scaled hand, and knocked the barrel aside just as it fired. The blast went wide.

Looping behind the vehicle, she fired a shot into the tire, neutralizing the threat.

As the Hummer spun out, Nono gunned the engine, speeding toward the black Pagani. But then she heard multiple engines growling behind her.

...Was it really over?

Looking back, she saw another convoy—but strangely, they weren't aiming at her. Gunfire lit the night as they opened fire on a McLaren and other vehicles.

In-fighting?

Perplexed, Nono stopped wondering and focused entirely on the chase. She had a feeling that man was headed for the place where he once tortured her.

Lifting her gaze beyond the Pagani, she looked toward the horizon.

Dark clouds gathered. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance.

(End of Chapter)

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