Ledesma's actions were baffling. He abruptly killed his boss Abreu, then declared that if we won the fight, he would take me to meet someone. And who was this "master" he kept mentioning?
Could there be someone more powerful than Abreu pulling the strings? The way Ledesma killed Abreu without hesitation suggested there was indeed a more formidable figure behind him.
What puzzled me more was the origin of these black-clad individuals. They didn't seem particularly skilled, yet they wielded Yin-based magic - I'd just witnessed them using dark arts to dispose of the corpse.
"Antonio, defeat him. I want to see who this person is he's talking about," I said.
Ledesma had thoroughly piqued my curiosity. Since he promised to take me to someone, I decided to play along.
"Yes, Mr. Roger," Antonio replied, tightening his grip on the knife. He dropped into a horse stance, crouching low like a beast preparing to strike.
Ledesma focused intently, his entire demeanor radiating menace. The twin daggers in his hands glinted coldly, their blades still tainted with malignant energy from Abreu's blood.
Three seconds later, Antonio lunged forward like a released arrow - Ledesma moved simultaneously.
But Antonio was faster. Ledesma only reacted when the knife was mere centimeters away, forced to halt abruptly and lean backward before thrusting both daggers toward Antonio's stomach.
Antonio withdrew his blade and slashed downward, striking the daggers. Ledesma's arms went limp from the impact as the metallic clang of colliding blades rang out.
The fight wasn't over. Seizing the opportunity, Antonio drove his foot into Ledesma's stomach. A muffled grunt escaped Ledesma's lips as he crumpled to the ground. He remained down for only about two seconds before struggling up - only to find Antonio's cold blade pressed against his throat.
"That was... impressively fast," Ledesma conceded, letting his daggers clatter to the ground.
Any observer could see Antonio had won decisively. Ledesma himself knew he'd been fairly defeated.
"The master's orders were to bring you to him if you won," Ledesma said.
"Who is this master of yours? Do I know him?" I asked.
Ledesma rose to his feet. "You'll find out when we get there. No more questions. And you come alone - no one else."
"What kind of bullshit is this? I'm coming too. Who knows what you people might do to Mr. Roger?" Antonio protested angrily, upset that despite his victory, he couldn't accompany me.
I considered for a moment, judging Ledesma to be trustworthy. Even if this was a trap, I was confident I could escape it.
"Antonio, return to the tattoo parlor with Stella and Harper. Don't worry about me - I can handle myself," I said.
Antonio opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. In the end, he simply said two words: "Be careful."
"Ror, be careful," Stella said to me before the three of them exited the bar and headed back to the tattoo parlor. After everything that had happened, Harper had stopped making trouble and followed Stella obediently.
"Please." Ledesma gestured for me to proceed, and the black-clad men behind me immediately cleared a path.
I stepped through the doorway with Ledesma and the men in black following close behind. Moments later, a stretched black sedan pulled up at the entrance and we all entered.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
Not only did Ledesma remain silent, but he also placed a black cloth over my eyes. Suddenly, I could see nothing - not even which direction the car was heading.
After approximately an hour, the car finally stopped. Ledesma still wouldn't let me remove the blindfold as he helped me out of the vehicle and guided me forward.
The path beneath my feet felt uneven, almost like a mountain trail. After walking some distance, I was led into a room - I could hear the door opening.
As I entered, the door slammed shut behind me. Suddenly, I could no longer sense anyone nearby. I called Ledesma's name several times, but received no response. They all seemed to have disappeared.
I tore off the black cloth, blinking as my vision adjusted to the dim lighting. Then I began surveying my surroundings.
It was a rather large room with gloomy illumination. The walls were completely covered in what appeared to be paintings - except they were unsettling, grotesque creations.
Upon closer inspection, I realized these weren't paintings at all, but Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts!
I recognized every single one of them. Some I had practiced countless times when first learning the craft. Their designs were instantly familiar.
What kind of place was this? And who was this person who wanted to meet me? Was he one of the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts practitioners?
"Coming?" A deep voice suddenly echoed from the far end of the room.
"Who are you?" Driven by curiosity, I took a step toward the voice's origin.
At the chamber's farthest end stood an enormous dragon chair occupied by a black-robed figure wearing a skull mask that completely concealed his face.
Even more striking than the man was the chair itself.
The dragon carved into this throne was black - unlike the golden dragons that adorned ancient emperors' thrones. This dragon looked downright sinister.
Who the hell was this guy? What era did he think this was? Who still sat on a dragon throne in this day and age? And why did he want to see me?
"Good, very brave. You actually dared to come here alone. Worthy of being my son, haha!" The black-robed man laughed heartily as he spoke.
I froze. His son? Could it be...?
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded loudly.
At that moment, the black-robed man slowly removed his skull mask, revealing a face I knew all too well.
I had never met my real father, but I had pictures of him at home. I had seen that face countless times—there was no way I could ever forget it.
He really was my dad!
"I'm your father, Banega," the black-robed man said as he removed his skull mask.
I froze again, my body trembling with emotion, my eyes reddening slightly. I wanted to rush forward, call him "Dad," talk to him, demand why he had never come back for me, ask where the hell he had been all these years.
But I didn't dare. I didn't dare move, didn't dare ask anything—because Grandpa had warned me that if my parents ever came looking for me, I had to find a way to kill them. And it wasn't just Grandpa. Webster and Master Raul had said the same thing.
"Heh…" Seeing me frozen in place, my father suddenly sneered and put the skull mask back on.
"Of course. Those bastards filled your head with nonsense. Especially that old fool Rhett," my dad spat viciously.
"Old fool Rhett? Why are you cursing Grandpa?" I frowned, offended. Maybe something had happened between them, but still—he was his father too. Wasn't it ungrateful to talk about him like that?
"Why? Did he tell you that if I ever came for you, you should kill me and burn the body?" my dad shot back.
I stiffened. So he already knew. That meant whether I tried to kill him or not, I wouldn't stand a chance—he was already on guard.
In a way, I was relieved. No matter what terrible crime my father had committed, the thought of being the one to kill him was unbearable.
"Grandpa, he…" I tried to explain, but the words died in my throat. I still didn't even understand why Grandpa had demanded I kill my own parents.
"Don't call him 'Grandpa.' Rhett isn't even your real grandfather," my father suddenly dropped the bombshell.