The night wind, carrying the scent of blood, swirled around the dock, and the metal surface of the container reflected the cold moonlight.
Matt Murdock looked up suddenly, his keen hearing picking up the sound of new footsteps.
Unlike the girl's light steps, these were steady and powerful—each one precisely calculated.
"It's you?! You killed these people?!"
Diluc's figure emerged from the shadows, the hem of his black-and-red windbreaker swaying gently with his stride.
Fischl's sudden disappearance made Matt instantly uneasy.
His hearing, sense of touch, and sense of smell worked at full capacity, yet he couldn't detect any trace of the girl—as if she'd never existed.
The man who now stood before him exuded a dangerous aura.
Diluc halted three meters away, his hands hanging naturally at his sides.
Between them lay the body of a gunman, motionless—as though marking a clear boundary.
"Fischl's point is this: why are you protecting these human traffickers?"
Diluc's voice was low and clear, each word like a shard of ice.
Matt didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, as if searching for something, then demanded:
"Where did that girl go?!"
Diluc took a step forward, moonlight glinting off his angular profile. "That's none of your business. Answer my question."
Matt didn't get the answer he wanted.
In a flash, he lunged at Diluc, his remaining billy club spinning in his hand and slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.
The first strike shot straight for Diluc's throat—fast as lightning.
Swish!
Diluc leaned slightly aside, and the club whistled past his crimson hair.
Matt instantly shifted tactics, whipping the end of the stick back toward Diluc's temple—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The Blackrock Blade remained sheathed on his back; Diluc blocked the strike solely with the gauntlet on his forearm. Sparks erupted from the impact, scattering into the night.
The recoil numbed Matt's wrist, but he pressed on. His billy club struck like a venomous snake—knee pits, ribs, Adam's apple…
Yet every blow was anticipated.
When Matt's next strike missed, Diluc finally countered.
His hand clamped down like iron on Matt's wrist, and with a swift over-the-shoulder throw, he slammed Daredevil into the ground.
The moment Matt hit the pavement, he rolled, barely cushioning the impact—but Diluc's boot was already coming down.
Bang!
The kick sent Matt flying five meters. His back crashed into the shipping container, denting the metal into a human-shaped outline.
The billy club clattered to the ground, torn from his grip.
Matt coughed up blood but forced himself to his feet. His helmet and suit were torn in places, yet his presence remained razor-sharp.
"That's enough," Diluc said at last, his voice still cold as ice. "Fischl is safe. Now, we can talk."
The night wind stirred the dust at their feet. A dozen corpses lay scattered nearby—silent witnesses to this uneven clash.
Matt Murdock wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, barely managing to stand upright, and said in a firm, low voice:
"Ahem… Every life deserves to be saved. Every person deserves a second chance—even a criminal was once a child of God."
Hearing this, Diluc sneered, pointed at the trembling girls in the container, and said coldly:
"Then tell that to those girls—kidnapped and trafficked across the world! Tell them those scum deserve a second chance.
If you truly have the courage to stand by those words, maybe I'll consider letting those monsters live."
At that, Matt clenched and unclenched his fists, his voice strained as he replied:
"Violence can't solve everything. When someone lynches a criminal, another criminal is born.
It's the crime that must end—not the criminals."
Diluc stepped forward, locking eyes with Matt. "As a lawyer, you know full well that a black-market empire isn't built by one man or even a single group—it takes an entire network.
You send them to jail for a month—maybe even just a week—and they're back on the streets, running the same business like nothing happened.
And you? You get hailed as a hero. The system gets praised for its 'fairness.'
So who loses? Exactly—the very victims who made you a hero in the first place."
Matt didn't back down. He tilted his head slightly and said firmly:
"But that's no excuse to give up. Have you ever imagined the roles reversed—someone deciding you deserved it? How would you feel?
When everyone claims to be righteous, all that's left in the world is mob justice and tyranny!"
Diluc advanced again, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper:
"Righteousness? What 'bottom line' can you offer those girls while they rot in a shipping container?"
He yanked the container door open, revealing bloodstained handcuffs scattered across the floor. A putrid stench of decay flooded the air, forcing Matt to stagger back.
His breath came heavy, but his resolve held firm. "The law will give them a fair trial," he said. "And I'll do everything in my power to ensure these criminals spend the rest of their lives behind bars—repenting for what they've done.
I'll also fight with everything I have to secure justice for the victims and uphold the rights they deserve."
Diluc's eyes narrowed. "Can you even convince yourself of those words?"
A sudden gust of sea wind scattered the echo of his question. Both men fell silent, the only sound the approaching wail of sirens in the distance.
Finally, Matt spoke softly:
"I'd rather save a sinner who might repent than kill a soul who could still turn toward good."
Diluc studied him for a long moment, then turned and walked into the darkness, leaving behind a single, haunting line:
"May you never see the corpse created tomorrow by the demon you set free today."
Matt watched him vanish into the night—then called out:
"Then who watches you, 'law enforcers'?"
Diluc didn't look back. His voice drifted on the wind:
"The victims who can no longer speak."
The sirens grew louder. Matt stood motionless, the rescued girls' sobs ringing in his ears—along with Diluc's final words:
"Sometimes, the greatest mercy is ensuring certain evils are never repeated."
T/N: I have no clue has to what they're saying 😭
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