As the sun made its descent, painting the sky with hues of deep orange and violet, a fine specimen of bred muscle effortlessly dragged the cart behind it. The horse's impressive legs moved up and down in a synchronicity that could be considered a sound, natural and pleasing enough to carry far and wide. Inside the carriage, Leonard and Saburo occupied most of the space but wore their presence like a cloak and spoke barely a sound to the outside world. The wooden and metal door was intact, sheltering them from their enemies only for a short period.

Leonard, who was more than just a captive bound to his chair with ropes, had an urgency to ask a number of dangerous questions. Still, in the furthest recesses of his mind, he could not help but wonder about the purpose of their travel among other things. It was a still forest where the moving vehicle was ghost like or noiseless, gliding past the trees looking like a motion picture clip shown for a second.

On the horizon, where sky and earth conspired in an endless embrace, stood a solitary sentinel-a watchtower of stone and resolve. Its walls, formidable and unyielding, rose from the ground like the steadfast trunk of an ancient sentinel. At its zenith, a roof curved gently, reminiscent of a conical hat, a silent testament to the watchful gaze it cast upon the land.

As the carriage came to a halt, the gates of the palace loomed before them, its gardens a riot of greenery and florals, a living mosaic crafted by nature's hand. Before the imposing gates, a line of ten men stood in silent vigil, their presence a testament to the grandeur of the occasion. As Saburo emerged, they bowed in unison, a choreographed gesture of deep respect. The words, "「サブロー先生！ ご到着を嬉しく思います！」"(Master Saburo! We are pleased for your arrival!), filled the air, a chorus of voices welcoming the esteemed master.

Leonard held his gaze upon the unfolding events, observing the drama from a distance, and his feelings were in a state of unrest. The power Saburo possessed was so vivid that it felt real, but it was nothing like the warlords he had painted in his mind. There is no bloodlust evident in Saburo's character, no ravenous yearning for victory; simply the calm power of a figure adored not because of violence but age and submission.

At the threshold of the grand palace, two imposing wooden doors stood sentinel. Before them, a man clad in a mint-green tuxedo-the very embodiment of elegance-knelt before Saburo. His tie, a striking contrast of red and black, lay neatly against his chest. The man's hair was a snowy white, save for a single strand dyed a bold red, a mark of distinction.

He bowed his head, his voice a soft murmur of deference as he spoke, "「おはようございます、本日はセブルスがご奉仕させていただきます。 集会はこちらです。」"("Good morning, sir. I, Severus, will be at your service today. The assembly is this way.")

Expectations and tension in the air was palpable as Severus stood and pointed towards the palace's core where the meeting was in progress. Leonard was watching all of this unfold, both impressed and fascinated. The way Saburo was treated amazed him, for there was no doubt that it was not limited to the forest in which they had trained: Saburo was powerful.

The massive wooden doors parted, revealing an unending passage of what seemed to be a corridor. Saburo reached the door, and at that time, the wall lamps turned flourished in illumination. Their blazes cut through the almost absolute blackness, generating long shapes with movement over the ancient wall surfaces.

Leonard followed, his breath catching as the air shifted. The walls whispered secrets-echoes of forgotten lives etched into the very fabric of the mansion. Centuries seemed to converge here, their memories lingering like phantoms. The scent of aged wood and dust hung heavy, a fragrance that transcended time.

The path illuminated before them was both literal and metaphorical. Each step carried weight-an invitation to unravel the enigma that lay ahead. Leonard's unease intensified. The mansion held them in suspense, its flickering lights and silent tales weaving a tapestry of anticipation.

As they progressed, the pathway became more constricted and above were old shreds of war, old love and old sorrow tapestries on the walls. Leonard's fingers ran through the texture and he pictured that within these walls there had lived people. Were they good or evil? In love or betrayal? Those questions remained unanswered in his mind, even in this day, they were still lost in time.

And then at last appeared a door-a door that led to something that had not been revealed before. The wood presented itself with an ornamental relief, which was foreign to Leonard. These were strange designs weaving among each other, reminiscent of long-lost customs or incantations. It was as if the door had a life of its own, ready to share something covert about the place.

Saburo stopped short, looking at the door frame. Now bold made Leonard's heart. What was there behind? Hope or despair? And the butler Severus just stood there, his face impassive. Was it possible that curves of age encircled Severus as well and that even he possessed that knowledge which everyone else seemed to miss?

"This place gives me creeps," Leonard murmured again, his voice swallowed by the corridor's silence. But he couldn't turn back now. The mansion had claimed them, entwining their fates with invisible threads. The door beckoned, and Leonard steeled himself. Whatever awaited them, he would face it-for Lucy, for himself, and for the mysteries that stirred in the shadows.

The butler's swift motion ushered them through the door, revealing a scene from a bygone era. The chandelier, once a beacon of opulence, now swung gently from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the grand hall. The mansion, alive with echoes of past celebrations, was adorned with guests in finery-dresses swirling, hats tipping, and boots clicking against the marble floor.

A shout pierced the hum of conversation, drawing Leonard's gaze upward. Atop the wooden balustrades stood a man clad in a green t-shirt and jacket, his presence as imposing as a war-hungry hound. With a predatory grace, he leapt to the ground floor, towering over Leonard at an impressive 7'2". Leonard's heart raced, the man's sheer size a silent threat. "I know you punk, you're the guy with the 20 million bounty, right?! You think you're strong 'cause your stocks are high?! Well, guess what! I'LL BE TAKING THAT BOUNTY OF YO-"

His taunt was cut short as Severus's foot connected with his stomach, sending him to his knees, wailing in pain. Severus's smile was one of cold reprimand. "Don't you think that is a little disrespectful towards our guest?" He bowed to Saburo, the epitome of decorum amidst the chaos. "Sorry for the inconvenience, we do not tolerate such behavior. Do you want me to put an end to his misery?"

Saburo's response came with a smile, tinged with shock. "N-no, no need."

The air was thick with anticipation, an opposing force to the sophistication that surrounded them. In this unsought encounter, Leonard found himself in the eye of the storm and could only speculate on the suspicions that lay embedded in the design of this mansion.

As they distanced themselves from the commotion, Leonard's curiosity overcame his reticence. "Is it in his nature to act so violently?" he asked, his gaze still locked on the spot where the man had fallen.

Saburo's smile was a subtle curve of the lips that hinted at deeper understanding. "Not quite," he replied. "Severus reserves such actions for discipline, not malice. To correct, not to kill. There is a fine line between abuse and love, and he walks it with care. Though the cries of the disciplined may cleanse their misdeeds, it is the blood unjustly spilled that cries out from the earth."

Leonard pondered Saburo's words, recognizing the wisdom in the distinction between punishment and cruelty. It was a lesson he would carry with him, a reminder that even in a world rife with violence, there was room for mercy and justice.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

In the grand tapestry of the underworld, there exists a legend whispered in the shadows, a figure both feared and revered. Enter Severus, known infamously as The Executioner. Clad in a mint-green tuxedo that mirrors the calm before the storm, he kneels with a grace that belies his lethal prowess. His tie, a striking tapestry of red and black, rests against his chest-a silent testament to the blood and darkness that he has mastered.

His hair, as white as the first snowfall, is marked by a single strand of bold red, a symbol of the lives he has claimed in the name of justice. In his hand, he wields not just a weapon, but an extension of his will-a giant scissor, sharp enough to cut through the fabric of deceit, strong enough to sever the chains of treachery.

He is the arbiter of fate, the final judge to those who betray their own. With each snip of his colossal blade, he executes not just the traitors, but the very notion of betrayal itself. For in the world where Severus walks, loyalty is the currency, and he is the unforgiving banker.

So let the word be spread, let the fearful whisper, and let the traitors quake, for The Executioner is here, and his judgment is absolute.

⚚

Severus's footsteps resonated against the wooden floor, a steady rhythm leading them through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion. They arrived at yet another set of massive doors, the wood rich and dark, carvings depicting scenes of lore and legend.

"Right this way, sir," Severus intoned, his voice a calm contrast to Leonard's growing irritation.

Leonard couldn't help but stomp his foot in exasperation. "Man, how many doors do we have to go through? Let me guess, there's another door at the end?"

Severus bowed gracefully, the very picture of servitude. "My deepest apologies, sir. It's for security purposes." He straightened up, addressing Saburo with a deferential tilt of his head. "Master Saburo, Sir Stoneford is highly anticipating your arrival. He has told many tales of your exploits, and I trust that your conversation will be most enlightening."

The doors swung open, revealing a room that seemed to breathe with anticipation. Leonard, despite his frustration, couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement.

The man's presence dominates the room, his comfort in power evident as he reclines in his chair. The tobacco smoke curls around him like a spectral serpent, a testament to his disregard for convention. His black glasses, perched with precision, offer a window to a mind that observes all, missing nothing.

He is the epitome of corporate authority, his attire a meticulous blend of formality and intimidation. The crisp white of his office shirt cuts through the room's haze, a stark contrast to the black coat that envelops his large frame. The coat, a custom creation, seems to amplify his stature, lending him an air of unassailable dominance.

"Saburo! It's been a long time since we haven't met!" His laughter booms, a sound of genuine pleasure or perhaps a well-practiced facade. Leonard, observing from the sidelines, can't help but offer a silent, sardonic commentary to himself. "Shi, no wonder why that door is massive, that's a whole ass zoo right there."

The atmosphere is charged with a mix of nostalgia and tension, a dance of old acquaintanceship and the unspoken dynamics of power. Leonard's internal monologue adds a touch of levity to the scene, a humanizing moment in the midst of the grandeur and gravity that surrounds them.

The man's laughter filled the room, a sound that seemed to echo off the grand walls. "Please! Please take a seat," he beckoned, his joviality infectious.

"So, what do you want to talk about? I've even invited many of our sons' and daughters' high-ranking members for you!" His eyes twinkled behind the dark lenses, a clear sign of the importance he placed on this meeting.

Leonard, taking in the scene, felt the weight of the moment. The gathering of such influential figures for Saburo spoke volumes of the respect he commanded. As he settled into his seat, Leonard's mind raced with questions and possibilities.

The room's atmosphere shifted palpably as Saburo cut through the man's laughter with a tone of solemnity. "I'm not here to party or drink," he stated, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to still the air itself.

The Stone Ford's eyebrow arched in surprise, a silent question mark hovering above the jovial facade. "Then what is it? You want to withdraw some money? Well, don't worry, I can provide you with millions!"

"I here by annouce, I'm leaving the syndicate," All the people we're shock to hear his revelation, Stone Ford even threw up the whiskey his drinking. He laughs as if he is starting to lose it. Saburo's proclamation echoed within the walls of the room, such a remarkable pronouncement that it caused waves of astonishment among the assembled highbrows. As for Stone Ford, we can only say that his response was rather shocking, the whiskey he had been enjoying already splattered on the floor.

"Your such a comedian, Saburo! That's the thing I like about you," Stone Ford managed to laugh, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. He set his tobacco down on the wooden desk, a gesture of casual dismissal.

But Saburo's face was a mask of seriousness, unyielding and resolute. "I'm not joking." The words was a final nail in the coffin of mirth.

Stone Ford's laughter died in his throat, replaced by a gaze as sharp as cut glass. "What..."

Stone Ford's voice was a low growl, disbelief and betrayal mingling in his tone. "Say that again?"

Saburo's response was calm. "I said I'm leaving the syndicate." The words of intent that could not be taken back.

Stone Ford's fists clenched, his body tensing with a mix of anger and shock. "You... Have you forgotten who took you in as refuge?! Have you also forgotten that we are the ones who clothed and fed you!" The accusation was sharp, a reminding him of his past debts.

"I know, senior," Saburo acknowledged, his voice steady. "I will never forget the good deeds that you've done for me." His gratitude was sincere, a counterbalance to the tension that filled the room.

"We swore an oath-blood and flesh-that we wouldn't leave each other's back!"

"But it's different now," Saburo countered, years evident in his voice. "I'm 78 years old, I was diagnosed with cancer just four months ago. I'm a dying man, and that's why I wanted to change my ways. Please, as my brother in arms, I want to die peacefully, to lay at my deathbed surrounded by the people I love and care for, those who will stay beside me until my last breath."

Stone Ford's expression was melancholy, unreadable and distant. "I'll be the judge of that," he said.

The atmosphere in the space grew quiet, encumbered with Saburo's disclosure and Stone Ford's utterance. It was now some final truth, a point of no return that would decide their fate for all time.

The ambiance of the room underwent a transformation, with emotional strain increasing like the formation of thunderstorm clouds. The breath from Stone Ford was similar to a warning of something more sinister. He got to his feet and, as he did so, his steps could be heard coiling away. "You know what to do," he said, the weight of his words settling like an anchor.

Saburo's confusion gave way to realization-an avalanche crashing down. He understood the unspoken command, the choice that had been thrust upon him. But before he could act, Leonard's voice sliced through the room, urgent and desperate. "Behind you!"

Saburo turned, heart pounding. There, Severus-loyal guard of stoneford, his kick struck Leonard's side, propelling him toward the window.

"Saburo!" The name tore from Leonard's throat as he witnessed his mentor's peril. Stone Ford, a mountain of a man, moved with a force that seemed to shake the earth itself. "Don't turn your back on me!" he roared.

The air shuddered with the power of Stone Ford's punch, aimed not at Leonard, but at Saburo. The blow sent Saburo reeling, tumbling down to the first floor with a crash that echoed through the hollow halls.

Leonard's heart raced with worry for Saburo, but there was no time to dwell. Severus was upon him, his giant scissors slicing through the air with deadly intent. Leonard's instincts kicked in; he caught the blades with his hands, the metal biting into his flesh. "Impressive," Severus murmured, a twisted smile on his lips.

Blood dripped from Leonard's hands, his strength fading. But surrender was not in his nature. With a roar, he launched a kick into Severus's chest, sending the man staggering back. Distance now between them. He would fight on, for Saburo, for justice, for all they had lost

Severus stood back, a rare flicker of respect crossing his battle-hardened features. "You're the first one to stop my scissors from cutting you like thin paper. I'll give you credit for that," he conceded, a mix of surprise and excitement.

As the pivot of the giant scissors clattered to the ground, Severus grasped the two halves, now separated, wielding them with the ease of a seasoned duelist. The blades, infused with a sinister energy, began to emanate an ominous aura, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"This is gonna be fun~" Severus taunted, the corners of his mouth curling into a sardonic grin. The air crackled with anticipation, the impending clash to be a dance of death.

Leonard, undeterred by the display, steadied his breathing. His eyes, alight with the fire of survival, locked onto Severus. He knew the true test of his mettle was about to begin. With a silent vow to those he had lost and those he fought for, Leonard readied himself for the fight of his life.

To be continued...