One year later—

  Delhi, India.

  Territory of India's most powerful mafia gang—The Rudra Fangs.

  BOOM!

  A deafening impact shattered the air.

  The thirty-three-year-old gang leader of the Rudra Fangs flew like a ragdoll, crashing against a concrete wall—CRACK!

  He slid down lifelessly, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

  Around him, over two hundred of his subordinates lay scattered—some curled up, some bleeding heavily, others barely conscious and trembling.

  And beneath them all stood the monster responsible.

  Kuroto Magami.

  Age: 18.

  Leader of Asia's most feared criminal group—The Magami Clan.

  He stood calmly, emotionless, a metallic Rubik's Cube spinning lazily in his hand—click, click, click—as if this massacre was nothing more than a chore.

  Behind him, the remaining twenty elite members of Magami stood in silence, forming a shadowed wall of power.

  "With this," he spoke in Japanese, tone flat, unshaken, "we have conquered almost all of Asia's underworld."

  He turned his back on the battlefield and began walking.

  Instantly, Magami members parted, creating a straight path for him to pass through.

  Beside him followed the vice leader, Ryuzen Magami, face lowered with unwavering respect.

  "Ryuzen," Kuroto said as he walked, the Rubik's Cube still spinning in one hand. "Prepare for our next destination—Bangladesh." (Japanese)

  "I've already arranged everything, boss," Ryuzen replied in Japanese, bowing slightly as he walked. "The flight leaves tomorrow at noon." (Japanese)

  ***

  It's already been a year Afraan completed his training.

  Afraan had already grown familiar with the Navraan family.

  Not just familiar…Integrated.

  He had joined multiple major missions, followed orders, messed up a few times, but he finished them somehow.

  Navraan Headquarters — Chairman's Office

  Tick.Tick.Tick.

  The wall clock moved mercilessly forward.

  Behind a massive desk sat Jihan Navraan.

  His posture was stiff.

  His shoulders tense.

  His eyes hollow.

  He looked like a man on the verge of death.

  Not from illness.

  Not from enemies.

  Not from assassination attempts.

  But from—

  overwork.

  Stacks of documents surrounded him like an advancing army.

  Contracts.

  Financial reports.

  Mission summaries.

  Approval forms.

  Signatures.

  Corrections.

  Revisions.

  Paper after paper.

  Scratch—His pen moved.

  Flip—Another page.

  Scratch—Another signature.

  Jihan's eyes twitched.

  The more he worked—

  the more the pile refused to shrink.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  If anything…

  …it was growing.

  His pen paused mid-air.

  "…Why," he muttered slowly, staring at the mountain of paperwork, "does it feel like the papers are reproducing?"

  The papers, naturally, did not answer.

  His head dropped forward—

  thud.

  His forehead gently met the desk.

  Silence.

  A moment passed.

  Then another.

  He lifted his head again, dead eyes staring forward, and resumed working.

  Scratch.Flip.Scratch.

  And then—

  THUMP.

  A thick stack of fresh documents slammed down onto the desk.

  The impact shook the papers already there.

  Jihan froze.

  Very.

  Slowly.

  He lifted his gaze.

  Standing across the desk was Alok.

  Smiling.

  A smile that was bright.

  Cheerful.

  And extremely punchable.

  "That was the last batch," Alok said cheerfully.

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  Dangerously heavy.

  Jihan stared at the newly added stack of papers like it had personally offended his ancestors.

  Then—

  Very slowly—

  He lifted his head.

  His eyes locked onto Alok.

  A smile formed on Jihan's lips.

  A forced one.

  The kind that existed only to warn the other person that their life expectancy had just dropped.

  "What," Jihan asked calmly, voice unnaturally gentle,"are you doing, Alok?"

  Alok blinked.

  Confused.

  "What do you mean, boss?" he replied."I just brought you the documents that need to be checked and signed."

  For one second—

  Silence.

  Then—

  BANG!

  Jihan slammed both hands onto the desk, the impact sending several papers flying into the air like startled birds.

  "I CAN SEE THAT, YOU BASTARD!" Jihan roared.

  Alok yelped on instinct, ducking and covering his head.

  "B-But—Boss—!"

  Jihan straightened up, veins visible on his forehead, his voice rising with every word.

  "Why the hell are you giving these to me?!"He grabbed a random stack and shook it violently."I'm already dying here! Do you think I have infinite stamina?!"

  Papers slipped from his grip and fluttered down—fsshk… fsshk…

  "We only have seven or eight people in this entire company!" Jihan continued, pointing accusingly."Who do you think is going to finish all these missions, huh?! You?! Me?! Or should I just clone myself five times?!"

  Alok slowly peeked out from behind his arms.

  "O-Okay… okay, boss," he said hurriedly. "I'll cancel them. I'll cancel all of them. Please relax."

  Jihan's shoulders finally dropped.

  "Huf… huf…"

  He staggered back into his chair, pressing a hand to his chest like a man who had narrowly survived death.

  "G-Give me some water…"

  "Yes!" Alok replied instantly.

  He turned and bolted out of the office—

  tap tap tap tap—

  —and returned moments later, holding out a glass of water with both hands like it was an offering to a deity.

  Just like that…

  Life within Navraan moved in quiet rhythm.

  Days passed.

  Morning followed night.

  Paperwork piled.

  Training continued.

  Laughter echoed through hallways that once knew only silence.

  No conflicts.

  No emergencies.

  No blood on the floor.

  Peace.

  A fragile, deceptive peace.

  ***

  Elsewhere—

  Far from the calm halls of Navraan Headquarters—

  A shadow spread.

  One month had passed since the Magami Clan set foot in Bangladesh.

  And in that single month—

  district by district—

  street by street—

  power shifted hands.

  Silently.

  Efficiently.

  Brutally.

  Every major district fell.

  One by one.

  Except for one place.

  A small city.

  Cumilla.

  ***

  The moment the Magami Clan entered Cumilla—

  the air changed.

  fwshhh—

  Tension crawled through alleyways.

  Fear seeped into the ground.

  Whispers spread faster than footsteps.

  Their target was obvious.

  The strongest.

  The last obstacle.

  Navraan.

  ***

  The clash came swiftly.

  Too swiftly.

  And the result—

  was something no one could have predicted.

  No...

  something no one could believe.

  Twenty elite members of the Magami Clan.

  Their vice leader.

  Their leader.

  Asia's rising nightmare.

  All of them—

  fell.

  Not to an army.

  Not to a trap.

  Not to a war.

  But to one man.

  Jihan Navraan.

  Alone.

  Standing amidst the aftermath...

  collapsed bodies...

  and silence so deep it felt unreal.

  The storm had ended.

  Before it could even begin.

  And Cumilla...

  remained untouched.

  How could anyone believe it?

  A gangster from a small countrydefeating a clan that had Asia wrapped around its fingers.

  No.

  It wasn't just unbelievable—it was humiliating.

  For the Magami Clan, this defeat was nothing short of a catastrophe.

  And for their leader—

  Kuroto Magami—

  it was a shock that cracked something deep inside him.

  He had fought monsters.International syndicates.Warlords.Men whose names alone made nations hesitate.

  But to lose here…to someone from a country he barely considered relevant—

  Yeah.

  That was a blow he never imagined taking.

  The battlefield was silent.

  Kuroto and his clan lay scattered across the ground—some unconscious, some barely breathing, but none bleeding.

  Not a single pool of blood stained the streets.

  For the first time in Kuroto's life,he had lost a battlewithout bloodshed.

  And somehow—

  that made it worse.

  Jihan Navraan turned his back and began to walk away.

  No victory pose.No declaration.No lingering glance.

  Behind him stood Soraya, Afraan, Alok, Shahin, Ishan, Rihan, and Sifan—

  watching quietly, as if their presence hadn't even been necessary.

  As if the battle had never required them at all.

  That was when—

  Kuroto forced himself to stand.

  His legs trembled, but his voice cut through the silence as he shouted in English, raw and shaking—

  "What the hell are you doing?!"

  Jihan didn't stop.

  "You defeated us," Kuroto continued, disbelief cracking his tone."You defeated me—and you're just leaving like nothing happened?!"

  Jihan finally turned.

  His expression was calm.Almost indifferent.

  "What now?" he asked."What do you want?"

  Kuroto clenched his fists.

  "What do I want?"He laughed—short, broken."You defeated the number one in all of Asia. You can take everything. Power. Territory. Wealth. My name."

  His voice dropped.

  "So why…why are you walking away?"

  "I don't need it."

  The words landed harder than any punch.

  Kuroto froze.

  "…What?"

  In his entire life, no one had ever rejected power.

  Not once.

  As Kuroto stared at him, Jihan turned away again.

  He and the others began to leave—footsteps fading one by one.

  Kuroto remained standing, unmoving.

  Watching.

  And somewhere inside him—

  something shifted.

  He didn't know what it was.

  Respect?Fear?Admiration?

  He only knew this—

  as he watched Jihan Navraan walk away,

  it felt like he was witnessing the beginning of a legend.

  ?? Patreon (Up to chapter 40):

  ?? Webnovel (Up to chapter 52):