The moment we breach the building, the illusion of mysticism collapses into raw reality.
The Hand's stronghold is silent—too silent. No alarms. No panicked shouts. Just shadows, incense, and the faint sound of bare feet shifting on stone.
They're waiting.
"Move," I say calmly.
My Red Right Hand surges forward as one.
What follows is not a battle.
It is an execution carried out with surgical perfection.
The first wave of ninjas emerges from the darkness—fast, disciplined, blades already moving. In another context, they would have been terrifying. Masters of chi, assassination, centuries-old traditions of killing.
Here?
They last seconds.
Crimson laser fire slices through the dark, precise and controlled. One of my operatives phases through a wall and reappears behind two attackers, snapping their spines before they even realize he's there. Another lifts his hand—telekinesis detonates the floor beneath a squad, pinning them helplessly before a clean follow-up shot ends it.
Every member of the Red Right Hand is superhuman.
Enhanced reflexes. Augmented strength. Mutations refined, not random.This was never going to be fair.
I step forward, hand glowing faintly as I murmur a short incantation. A ripple of force tears through the corridor, hurling three ninjas into the walls hard enough that they don't rise again.
"Second floor secure," Commander Cody reports, voice perfectly steady as he fires on the move.
We advance like a machine—no wasted motion, no hesitation.
The Hand trained for centuries to kill normal men.
They never prepared for us.
The inner sanctum lies ahead.
This is where their true elites are stationed—the best of the best, bodies hardened by chi manipulation, minds sharpened by devotion and fear. As we step into the chamber, they attack in perfect synchronization.
I don't even bother drawing a weapon.
I lift my hand.
The air screams.
Over a hundred wind blades erupt outward in a controlled sphere, each one razor-thin and impossibly fast. The ninjas don't have time to react. There is no counter, no technique, no defense.
When the air settles, the chamber is empty of resistance.
The Red Right Hand steps over the aftermath without comment.
Cody glances at me. "Path's clear."
"Good," I reply. "Let's end this."
The final door is reinforced steel, engraved with ancient symbols meant to ward spirits and demons alike.
It means nothing.
One of my operatives drives his fist into it, enhanced muscles and kinetic amplification turning the door into twisted scrap. We enter the office beyond in a blur of motion.
The last defenders rush us in desperation.
I gesture sharply.
Scarlet sigils bloom in the air as magical restraints snap into existence—ropes of condensed arcane energy that lash out with intelligence of their own. They coil around arms, legs, throats, pinning the final ninjas to the floor in seconds.
No deaths here.
They'll be useful later.
And then—
She stands.
Madame Gao.
Calm. Composed. As if she had expected this exact outcome.
Her eyes meet mine, ancient and calculating, a faint smile touching her lips. "So," she says softly, "the shadows finally reveal themselves."
I walk toward her, unhurried.
"You've been trafficking immortality, resurrection, and chi-based enhancement for decades," I say. "You've funded wars, propped up criminal empires, and interfered with anomalies you don't understand."
Her smile fades slightly. "You think you can replace us?"
I stop in front of her.
"No," I correct. "We already have."
With a flick of my wrist, the red bindings lash out, wrapping around her limbs and torso. She struggles briefly—chi flaring, ancient techniques pushing against the restraints—
—and fails.
The magic tightens.
For the first time, Madame Gao looks genuinely unsettled.
Cody steps forward, cuffs ready. "Target secured."
I lean in slightly, my voice low and absolutely certain. "Every secret the Hand possesses will be extracted. Every ritual. Every account. Every hiding place."
She exhales slowly. "You don't understand what you've taken on."
I smile.
"Oh," I say, "we understand perfectly."
We exit the building less than twenty minutes after entry.
The Hand's leadership cell in this region is gone. Their operatives neutralized. Their logistics exposed. Their immortality techniques now firmly in Foundation custody.
As transport vehicles roll in to collect prisoners, I watch the structure one last time.
An ancient organization.Centuries of secrecy.Ended in a single night.
The Red Right Hand assembles behind me, flawless, disciplined, unstoppable.
This wasn't just a raid.
It was a declaration.
The age of hidden kings, immortal crime lords, and shadow cults is ending.
From now on, if something operates in the dark—
It answers to us.