CHAPTER 82: CHAPTER 10.10 : AFTER THE CLASH AT THE CAFE (1)

Three figures suddenly appeared right in front of them, decisively putting an abrupt stop to the battle that had originally erupted out of nothing more than the arrogance and impulsive pride of that spoiled young master.

Egen, who had just been forced to defend himself, looked visibly irritated and deeply angered by the sudden attack delivered by the mysterious man standing before him.

"Who the hell are you, bastard?! What business do you have interfering here?!" he shouted furiously, his voice hoarse with rage as he forced himself to stand upright, clutching tightly at his left arm. The limb was clearly in a terrible condition, hanging at an unnatural angle as though fractured or even broken.

Grinding his teeth, Egen shifted his weight forward, intending to retaliate with a counterattack—

But—

"Egen. Stop!"

The sharp and commanding voice of Gerald echoed, halting his subordinate’s movement in an instant.

Egen froze, then turned around to look at his master with hesitation in his eyes.

"Young master..." he muttered weakly, lowering his head.

"Do you really not understand who these people are?" Gerald spoke again, this time taking a few deliberate steps closer toward the area where the confrontation had unfolded.

Egen’s gaze flickered, and he finally took a closer look at the newcomers. Recognition dawned upon him. His pupils contracted in shock, and his throat tightened.

"You... you’re... The Phantom of Bantiamur," he uttered with a tense, almost trembling tone.

The crowd that had been spectating all this time stirred restlessly the moment that name was spoken aloud. Murmurs spread like wildfire. Many of them had never even heard of such a title before—it was unfamiliar, strange, and foreign to the majority.

Yet among them, a man in his thirties, someone who seemed to be well-acquainted with the hidden world beneath the surface of society, stepped forward half a pace. His face turned pale as fear distorted his expression.

"This is insane... utterly insane... they’ve actually shown up here in person. The Phantom of Bantiamur!" he exclaimed.

"Who are they supposed to be?" another spectator asked in confusion.

"Do you all still remember that viral news report several months ago? The one about the colossal serpent that appeared in Bantiamur Forest near the Marosa region?" the man explained, his tone heavy.

The crowd collectively nodded. Every single one of them had at least heard of it.

This time, everyone’s attention was locked onto the man, including Rina and Johan, who also turned their gazes toward him. He continued speaking in a low, serious voice.

"They’re the very figures who were spoken about back then."

"No way... don’t tell me... it’s really them?!" another person exclaimed in disbelief.

The man nodded grimly and began recounting what had happened. He spoke of the viral incident when a monstrous giant serpent emerged from the depths of Bantiamur Forest, killing countless tourists and residents who had dared to enter its territory. Even the military had to be dispatched to suppress the threat.

At the climax of the chaos, on the night of the full moon, four mysterious individuals appeared out of nowhere. They were clad in black combat uniforms, almost like characters out of an anime cosplay, and they fought ferociously. With the aid of martial artists, spiritual practitioners, and the nation’s military forces, they engaged in a desperate battle and, in the end, managed to bring down that terrifying serpent.

The audience recalled seeing snippets of that nightmarish event: low-resolution videos spread widely on social media. Though blurry, the footage revealed fleeting moments of battle, where four dominant silhouettes stood out above all others amidst the clash against the colossal beast. It was in that very moment the world had labeled them "The Phantom of Bantiamur."

No one truly knew their identities, nor had anyone expected to see them in person—until now. If Egen hadn’t spoken their name, most of the onlookers would never have guessed. Some remained skeptical, thinking it all a hoax fabricated by the media, yet the undeniable reality was that three of those legendary figures were standing right here before their eyes.

The four individuals had been branded with the shared name "The Phantom of Bantiamur." The towering man who had just launched the attack against Egen was known as Daus. The other man, slightly leaner but equally intimidating, was Malik. And the woman...

"Miss Clara..." Gerald called out in a strained voice toward the woman who was walking forward, each step steady and resolute, her eyes locked onto Al.

Clara did not so much as glance back at him. She simply continued walking.

"Weren’t there supposed to be four of them?" someone from the crowd muttered.

"Were you perhaps referring to me?" another young man suddenly spoke up, his voice dripping with nonchalance. No one had noticed when he arrived. He wore nothing more than a plain black t-shirt, his frame slender, his posture languid. His eyes, half-lidded with drowsiness, made him look as though he had just woken from a nap.

"Wha—?!" the man standing beside him jumped in shock.

"Your entrances never fail to startle people, Raka," Malik sighed, shaking his head with exasperation.

"Hehehe, my bad, my bad," the young man—Raka—replied with an awkward chuckle. He casually strolled closer to Malik, adding, "But seriously, isn’t it kind of weird hearing ourselves being introduced in front of our own faces? Shouldn’t we be the ones introducing ourselves instead?"

Malik nodded in agreement.

"Besides," he said, "since when did we ever actually acknowledge that bizarre nickname? We should probably decide on a name of our own one of these days."

The tense atmosphere that had blanketed the café earlier slowly eased with their arrival. Yet curiosity still burned in the eyes of many onlookers, including Rina and Johan. As experienced fighters, both of them had heard whispers about this group in the underground world—a group whose reputation preceded them.

But the one who appeared most bewildered of all was Gerald himself.

"Why are you even here?" he asked, his tone caught between suspicion and frustration.

"Oh? So it turns out you’re Young Master Gerald," Raka replied lazily, as though he were half-asleep. "We’re residents of Makazhar. If anything, isn’t the real question why you, Young Master, are here?"

"Ah... I suppose that’s true," Gerald admitted awkwardly.

Of course Gerald knew who they were. The Dayakora family, his family, operated in the forestry sector, which meant they were all too familiar with countless scandals involving forests across Indorosia. That included Bantiamur Forest, the very reason Gerald had come to eastern Indorosia in the first place.

The Dayakora family had even honored these four with a reward for their role in the incident. Though their names were unknown in the upper echelons of society, within the underground they were respected and feared because of that event.

Several underground arenas had even invited them to fight, and each of the four had demonstrated overwhelming strength—especially Daus, the massive man who had just nearly crushed Egen. Gerald knew better than to provoke individuals who were regarded as honored guests of his family.

Still, he stiffened his tone, trying to salvage some authority. "What I mean is... I am currently dealing with these kids here, so I hope that you will refrain from interfering."

Malik shrugged. "We had no intention of meddling, really. But it seems our fiery little lady over there simply couldn’t hold herself back," he said, gesturing toward Clara, who by now had reached Al’s side.

Clara’s demeanor brightened as she greeted him warmly.

"You’re Al, right? The one from before? Are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

Al gave a small nod. A soft meow came from the cat perched on his head.

"If I’m not mistaken, you must be Clara? Or should I say, Sister Clara," Al replied politely.

Clara smiled and nodded.

"What a coincidence... by the way, is this the same little kitten from back then?" Al tilted his eyes upward, careful not to move his head. "He looks a lot bigger now."

"That’s right," Clara confirmed. "His name is Coto."

"Pffft..." Al stifled a laugh, chuckling lightly at the odd name. "Is that seriously his name? What a peculiar choice."

"How rude," Clara pouted in mock annoyance. "Besides, I think he misses the person who saved him that day."

As if to agree, the cat—Coto—let out another meow.

Both Al and Clara turned to look at him, and they shared a brief laugh together.

Yet their moment of lightheartedness was soon interrupted when Gerald stepped forward...

Gerald’s expression hardened. He addressed Clara directly.

"Miss Clara, forgive me, but that boy has just been in direct conflict with me. I would prefer if you and your companions refrain from intervening for the moment. Please remember, you are honored guests of the Dayakora family. I sincerely hope you do not..." His tone carried arrogance mixed with restraint, but his words were abruptly cut short.

"Do not what?" Clara’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and laden with indignation. Her greenish eyes shimmered ominously as they narrowed at Gerald. "Are you actually trying to threaten me?!"

The atmosphere shifted violently, growing heavy and suffocating. A chilling aura emanated from Clara without her consciously willing it.

Gerald’s body stiffened involuntarily; for the first time, true fear crept into his heart.

"Miss Clara, do not be insolent in front of the young master!" Egen growled as he strode closer to stand protectively beside Gerald, with Mona following behind him.

"You think I am the kind of person who quails before your family’s so-called status?!" Clara’s words cut through the tense air like blades.

Even the cat, Coto, mirrored her fury—his tiny fangs bared, fur puffed up, tail raised stiffly as he stood poised to leap into battle from his perch atop Al’s head. But Al gently stroked him with calm, steady hands, soothing the creature until the tension in its tiny frame eased ever so slightly.

Gerald raised a hand subtly, and Egen moved immediately, positioning himself directly in front of his master as a human shield.

"No, no, Miss Clara, you misunderstand," Gerald spoke again, his voice now tinged with nervousness. But then his eyes flickered slyly, a cruel idea clearly forming in his mind. His lips curled into a thin smirk. "Those children... they have just insulted the Dayakora family. Naturally, they must face the consequences of such a crime."

"What?!" Rina and Johan’s eyes widened. Both of them instinctively stepped forward, standing protectively beside Al, waving their hands frantically to deny such an outrageous accusation.

But Gerald pressed on relentlessly, unwilling to back down.

"Ask anyone here. They all heard it. Every single person present is a witness."

Clara’s gaze swept across the café. The onlookers, cowed by the oppressive influence of Gerald’s family name, shifted uncomfortably. Some lowered their heads, others nodded hesitantly, pretending to agree. Their nervous gestures revealed the truth—they were intimidated. None of them dared oppose Gerald openly, for who among them would risk being targeted by the Dayakora clan?

Clara immediately understood the situation. She recognized Gerald’s falsehood and intimidation for what it was: an attempt to manipulate the crowd into supporting his fabricated claim.

Her sharp eyes turned to Al.

Al merely shook his head firmly, his lips curling with a faint bitter smile.

"I hope you are someone who values reason, Sister Clara," he muttered under his breath.

Clara gave a small nod, acknowledging his meaning. She turned back toward Gerald.

"I don’t buy it. This boy is an acquaintance of mine. He would never say such a thing." Her tone was calm yet unwavering.

"Miss Clara, what are you implying?" Gerald snapped, his temper flaring. "Everyone here has already confirmed they insulted the Dayakora family. As an honored guest, it is your duty to protect us!"

"We are honored guests, not the dogs of your family," Clara shot back coldly. She took a deliberate step forward, leaning closer to Gerald, Egen, and Mona. Then, lowering her voice so that only the three of them could hear, she whispered something that struck them like a thunderclap.

All three froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Instinctively, they turned their gazes toward Al, scanning him from head to toe.

"No way... are you telling me the truth?" Gerald’s voice cracked, laced with raw disbelief at what he had just heard.

Clara merely shrugged, raising her hands slightly as if to say, Believe it or not—it’s your choice.

"Whether you accept it is not my concern. But if what I said proves true, then you had better be prepared to suffer the consequences. And besides, aren’t you the one spouting lies here?" she retorted.

"You..." Gerald’s face twisted with rage, his pride shredded. He wanted desperately to push the matter further. How could he allow his dignity to be trampled so openly?

But before the situation could escalate—

WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO!

The sharp wail of approaching police sirens pierced the night air.

"Well, well, I guess that means tonight’s drama has officially reached its finale," Raka quipped lazily.

Gerald turned sharply, the sound of sirens echoing louder by the second. After a moment of silent deliberation, his jaw tightened. He could not afford for this matter to involve the police; such a scandal might tarnish his public image. Reluctantly, he made his decision.

"Tch... you’re lucky this time. We’re leaving." With an irritable click of his tongue, Gerald wrapped an arm around Mona’s shoulders, signaling Egen to follow.

Egen cast one last lingering glare at the trio of youngsters before shifting his attention to Daus, whose stoic, unreadable expression hinted at a desire for another fight someday. Yet what unsettled Egen most was Al—an enigma, a shadow he could not quite discern.

Just before departing, Gerald halted and spun back to face Clara.

"Remember what happened tonight. Don’t think your status as honored guests will protect you forever." His eyes then lingered on Al, narrowing dangerously before he turned away in visible frustration.

"Does he really think we care about that?" Raka muttered under his breath, shaking his head dismissively.

Meanwhile, Rina and Johan bowed slightly, expressing heartfelt gratitude to the four newcomers. Around them, several spectators, their curiosity undimmed, eagerly pressed forward asking for photos and autographs. But the café’s security staff suddenly moved into action, dispersing the gathering. They were visibly tense, recognizing that these were not ordinary young people but elites with backgrounds too dangerous to provoke.

The disappointed youths protested briefly, but the wailing sirens drew closer, and soon the crowd reluctantly scattered—some choosing to remain and salvage their night at the café, others deciding to leave entirely. Thankfully, the incident concluded without the café being forced to shut down.

---

Inside the sleek car now pulling away from the scene, Egen sat behind the wheel despite his injuries, driving Gerald and Mona into the night.

"Do you really believe what she said? That he’s a member of the Virellano family?" Gerald finally asked, his voice dark with suspicion.

It was Clara’s whispered words—her warning—that had shaken them earlier: Do not lay hands on him. He’s a member of the Virellano family.

Mona scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Baby, just look at him. His appearance alone screams otherwise. There’s no way he’s from the Virellano family. Everyone knows they only have one son, and his name is David." She spoke soothingly, trying to calm Gerald’s seething temper.

Gerald nodded slowly. Mona’s logic made sense. Yet his emotions remained turbulent. He turned toward the driver’s seat.

"What about you, Egen? What’s your opinion?"

Egen hesitated. The fact that Clara had said it herself gnawed at him.

"My apologies, young master. It may well be false information... but if it is, then why would Miss Clara deliberately lie to us?"

Gerald fell silent, brooding deeply over the question. He had met Clara on several occasions before, and the impression she left was not of someone prone to dishonesty. So why say such a thing? Was she protecting the boy? Or... was it the truth? Was that mysterious youth truly part of the Virellano family? If so, what was his role?

The flood of unanswered questions only gave Gerald a throbbing headache.

"Damn it!" he snarled, slamming a fist against the locked car door. "Whoever they are—whether Virellano or even members of the royal family—they dared to stand against the Dayakora. Their fate in this world will be nothing but misery. Mark my words!"

The car sped into the distance, Gerald’s vow of vengeance lingering like a curse in the air.

Unbeknownst to them, as the vehicle disappeared around a corner, two shadowy figures cloaked in black stood silently at the nearby intersection, their presence concealed beneath the night’s veil.

Two ominous silhouettes—an imminent threat—awaiting Al and his companions in the future yet to come.