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墨書 Inktalez
As Kunter gazed at the strange figure that had suddenly appeared, he felt a laugh bubbling up inside him. Yet, years of instinct warned him that the person before him was dangerous.
Sure enough, in the next moment, before they could even make a move, the figure acted. A flash of silver light erupted as a sharp blade was drawn, momentarily blinding them. In that instant, he distinctly heard a few soft sounds.
When Kunter opened his eyes again, he gasped in disbelief. The assault rifles they had been holding had transformed into mere sticks.
"Don't move!" The police rushed in as soon as they assessed the situation.
An old patrolman handcuffed Kunter while his gaze remained fixed on a faint black silhouette barely visible on the rooftop under the moonlight.
"I'd love to thank you, but I know you wouldn't need it," he said.
With Kunter and his companions arrested, reporters who had arrived at some point surged forward to interview the police.
"Was that mysterious person who appeared earlier one of your New York Police Department officers?" one reporter asked.
"Not at all," the old chief rolled his eyes; even a fool could see that.
"Then how do you explain your incompetence? So many people were subdued by four robbers."
The old chief's expression darkened at the remark. "No comment. We need to return to the precinct; we won't be entertaining any further questions."
With that, he climbed into the police car with his subordinates and drove away before the reporters could ask anything else.
The next day, every major newspaper in New York featured headlines about the explosion and robbery from the previous night.
All these articles centered around the mysterious figure who had appeared before the robbers. It was his presence that prevented further casualties and led to the arrest of the four criminals.
While most reports were quite similar, one article stood out and gained widespread recognition among readers.
"New York needs someone to stand up."
"Perhaps many people do not realize that although New York is now a world-class metropolis, its crime rate is also world-class. Every moment, someone falls victim to murder and crime. We have long hoped that the government would rectify this environment and provide us with a safe city. But the result has been disappointment."
"Just when I was at my lowest, someone stepped forward. They may just be ordinary people like you and me, but they transformed into the nemesis of evil."
"I asked my friend about this mysterious figure, and he said the character's appearance is modeled after the lord of hell from mythology. However, unlike the evil of the West, the lord of hell in the East is a deity. And he has a name that strikes fear into the hearts of wrongdoers."
"Yama!"
"Yama?" Shasha, who was sitting in her office reading the newspaper, couldn't help but chuckle. It was quite an image, after all; she was shaping her own persona in this direction. Yet she could still see the American public's yearning for heroes. After all, Daredevil was notoriously low-key in his actions; perhaps only in the Dark World could one gather information about him.
Regardless, the first step towards Reputation had already been taken. From yesterday until now, she had gained at least 100 points of Reputation. The next task was to solidify her path to Reputation.
Shaking her head with a smile, she set the newspaper aside when suddenly a voice that made Shasha's expression change rang out again.
"Mr. Samar, I have something I don't quite understand."
Alright, training newcomers was indeed a bothersome task; at least Shasha did not intend to go through it again.
At Saint Mary Hospital, the elderly man saved by Shasha was currently residing there. Due to being startled at that time and his old age coupled with various ailments, he had fallen ill.
Taking care of him were his elderly wife and his nephew.
"Ben, I've already asked the doctor; he said you can be discharged."
The elderly man named Ben had a nephew who was a slender student wearing black-rimmed glasses. He was currently in his second year at American Federal University, excelling academically but overly kind to the point of weakness.
But was that really the case?
"Peter, I'm done. I could have been discharged a long time ago. Why am I only getting the discharge paperwork now?"
Ben was quite dissatisfied. Though he was aging, he had never been one to easily accept it.
Faced with his uncle's complaints, Peter dared not argue back and could only force a smile. It was his Old Wife who couldn't help but give him a nudge, glaring at him. "Don't take your frustrations out on Peter. The fact that you're still alive is something to celebrate. It's just a sickness, after all. Aren't you being a bit ungrateful?"
Upon hearing his aunt's words, Ben awkwardly smiled, feeling quite intimidated by her.
Peter felt a deep sense of reflection at this moment. He could hardly imagine how he would cope if something happened to his uncle; it would likely be unbearable pain.
Especially since the person who nearly harmed his uncle was the very Mao Thief he had once let escape.
With that thought, behind his black-framed glasses, there was a glint of sharpness that belied his gentle appearance.
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