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  The group dispersed, each heading toward their assigargets. Light made his way to the eleics store, his mind already rag with possibilities. The Hand was known for their meticulous pnning, their ability to cover their tracks. But they weren’t infallible. They couldn’t at for every variable, every wildcard that might e their way. And Light was the ultimate wildcard.

  He pushed open the door to the store, the bell above the entrance jingling softly. The shop was small, cramped with shelves filled with outdated gadgets aronics parts. A bored-looking clerk sat behind the ter, barely gng up as Light ehe atmosphere was so mundane, so ordinary, that it almost made Light ugh. Almost.

  Light sed the room quickly, his eyes nding on a door at the back of the shop, partially obscured by a curtain. He approached the ter, his expression carefully ral as he addressed the clerk.

  “I’m looking for something specific,” Light said, his tone casual. “A part that’s hard to find.”

  The clerk finally looked up, his expression bored. “What kind of part?”

  Light leaned in slightly, l his voice. “A part that’s not on dispy. Something... uhe ter, perhaps?”

  The clerk’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspi flickering across his face. But before he could respond, Light’s hand shot out, grabbing him by the colr and pulling him across the ter. The clerk let out a startled yelp, his hands filing as he tried to break free.

  “Let me make this easy for you,” Light said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “I know what you’re hiding here, and I’m giving you one ce to tell me where the entrance is.”

  The clerk’s eyes widened in fear, his bravado crumbling uhe iy of Light’s gaze. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

  Light tightened his grip, cutting off the man’s protest. “Don’t lie to me,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “I make this much worse for you.”

  The clerk’s resolve broke, and he pointed shakily outside. "It’s not this shop! I-I promise!"

  Light’s fingers fred with fmes, searing into the man's skin as he leaned closer, his voice cold and menag. "Are you sure?" he asked, log eyes with the terrified man.

  "Argh! Y-yes! It’s not this shop!" The clerk screamed, the pain evident in his voice.

  Light called the fmes back, his expression slipping into one of detached calm. He studied the man, who was noing for breath, clutg his seared skin. "Now, what to do with you?" he mused aloud, more to himself than to the man quivering before him.

  Nero’s orders had been clear: n is. But was this man truly i? He clearly knew what the Hand to beh these shops, a he did nothing. Could someone who turned a blio such horrors really be sidered i? Would Nero even care if he rid the world of this piece of trash?

  Light’s gaze darkened as he weighed his options. His fiwitched, itg to call forth the fmes again, to burn away any trace of this maence. But something held him baething irritatingly small and inve, like a splinter lodged in his mind.

  The clerk whimpered, his eyes pleading for mercy as he trembled under Light’s scrutiny. He athetiiveling, and utterly worthless, but still, Light hesitated. Killing him would be easy, satisfying even, but would it be worth the potential sequences? Nero might not take kindly to su a.

  Then he remembered, "It is se. To think I fet I am Kira, the judge of good and evil." He chuckled, his voice low and uling. In his past life, he decided who was i and who was not. He just had to listen to his instinct. "It seems like you are not i."

  Light’s finger ignited with fmes once more, strohis time, the fire crag with a menag iy. The clerk’s scream of agony filled the small shop, the sound raw and desperate. Light watched impassively, his expression devoid of sympathy as he pressed the fmes closer to the man’s skin.

  "Please! I’m telling you the truth!" the clerk cried out, his voice breaking uhe pain. "I-I don’t know anything else! I swear!"

  Light tilted his head slightly, sidering the man’s pleas. His mind, cold and calg, weighed the worth of the clerk’s life against the satisfa of erasi another piece of filth from the world. The decision was swift.

  "Swearing on lies is a sin," Light said, his voice cold and final. The fmes surged, engulfing the man pletely as he let out o, gut-wreng scream before the fire ed him entirely. In seds, the clerk was nothing more than ash on the floor, a sm reminder of Light’s judgment.

  Satisfied, Light extinguished the fmes and turned his attention back to the rest of the shop. The air was thick with the st of charred flesh and burronics, but he paid it no mind. This pce was nothing but a fa?ade, a front for the Hand’s operations. There was no value in preserving it.

  Light moved toward the back door, pushing it open with the tip of his finger, which still flickered with the remnants of his fire. Beyond the door was a small ste room, filled with dusty shelves and fotten boxes.

  Shrugging, Light turo leave. "Well, at least he was ho." His voice was casual, almost indifferent, as if he hadn’t just turned a man into ash. With o gnce around the y store, Light stepped bato the alley, already thinking about his move.

  The eleics shop was a bust, but there were still other stores to check. He crossed the narrow alley and approached the shop in line—a small bookstore that looked as though it hadn’t seen a er in years. The windows were dusty, the sign faded and peeling. But Light wasn’t fooled by appearances. He’d seen too many pces like this, where the real a was hidden just beh the surface.

  He pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling softly. Ihe air was thick with the st of old paper and dust. The shelves were crammed with books, most of them seemingly untouched for decades. A single, elderly man sat behind the ter, his eyes following Light’s every move with a suspi that was hard to miss.

  Light didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He strode up to the ter, his expression hard. "I’m looking for something specific," he said, his tone leaving no room for misuanding.

  The old man didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at Light, his gaze unblinking. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. "This is a bookstore, son. We have a lot of specific things. You’ll have to be more precise."

  Chug, Light leaned in, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper. "The door to let me down. Where is it?"

  The old man’s eyes narrowed, his fiwitg. He shifted slightly, his gaze flig toward the back of the shop for just a moment—a moment too long. Light caught the movement, a smirk tugging at the er of his mouth.

  “Don’t make this harder than it o be,” Light said, his tone almost versational. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  The old man swallowed, the tension in the air thiing as he realized there was no way out of this. His voice trembled as he finally responded. “There’s nothing here for you, son. Just books. Old, dusty books.”

  Light sighed, shaking his head. “You know, lying doesn’t suit you.” He reached across the ter, grabbing the man by the colr and pulling him close. The fmes in his hand fred to life, casting an ominous glow across the man’s terrified face. “Let’s try this again.”

  The old man wi the heat, his resolve crumbling uhe pressure. “Please, I don’t want any trouble!” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “The entrance is ioreroom, behind the shelves. Just… don’t hurt me.”

  Light released him, the fire in his hand dying down to a simmer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, his tone ced with mock sympathy. Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way toward the back of the store, leaving the old man shaking behind the ter.

  Suddenly, Light felt his Observation Haki activate, alerting him to the danger just in time. He tilted his head slightly, and a bullet whizzed past where his skull had been just a sed ago. The sound of the shot echoed through the small store, filling the sileh a sharp, deadly reminder of the old man's desperation.

  Light turned slowly to face the elderly man, who was now holding a Glo his trembling hand, eyes wide with fear a. The gun’s barrel was still smoking, the old man’s frail fingers barely managing to keep their grip.

  Light shook his head, a smirk pying on his lips as he stepped closer. "Older and crueler, they used to say. The older os, the more he sees, and in time, he loses whatever passion and sympathy he once had. It seems they were right."

  Without another word, fmes leaped from Light’s hand, snaking through the air with a deadly grace. They found the old man instantly, ing around him in a burning embrace. His screams filled the room, raierg, as the fire ed him. The st of burning flesh mingled with the musty odor of old books, creating a ing blend that g to the air.

  Light watched impassively, his expression unged as the man was reduced to ashes. There was no satisfa i, no pleasure in the kill—just the cold efficy of someone who had long siopped questioning the morality of his as.

  As the st of the man’s screams faded, the door to the shop burst open. Mystique and her group rushed in, ons drawn, their eyes darting around the room, searg for the source of the hey were greeted by the sight of Light standing amidst the age, the fmes still flickering zily in his hand.

  "Did you find it?" Mystique asked, her voice steady but tinged with irritation. She didn’t even bother asking about the charred remains on the floor; she knew better than to expey different from Light.

  Light simply urning toward the back of the store. He led them to the trapdoor hidden behind the shelves, his movements calm. He pushed aside a stack of dusty books and revealed the entrance, a heavy metal door embedded in the floor. It was secured with a series of plex locks, the kind that would take a normal person hours to bypass.

  But Light was anything but normal.

  With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a torrent of fmes that melted through the locks in seds. The metal groaned uhe intense heat befiving way, and the trapdoor swung open, revealing a dark staircase leading down into the depths of the underground facility.

  Mystique peered into the darkness, her expression unreadable. "How deep does it go?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else.

  "Deep enough," Light replied, stepping aside to let the others take the lead. He had no iion of being the first dowairs—he’d done his part, and now it was time for Mystique aeam to do theirs.

  They moved quickly, desding the stairs in a practiced formation, their ons at the ready. The air grew colder and damper as they went deeper, the sounds of the city above fading away into an oppressive silehe only light came from the fmes flickering around Light’s hand, casting eerie shadows on the walls as they made their way down.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a narrow corridor, the walls lined with reinforced metal. It was clear that the Hand had goo great lengths to keep this pce hidden, but they hadn’t ted on someone like Light finding it.

  Mystique signaled for her team to spread out, her gaze fixed on the heavy door at the end of the corridor. It was the only way forward, and whatever y beyond it was likely the heart of the Hand’s operation.

  Light hung back, leaning casually against the wall as Mystique aeam prepared to breach the door. He could hear the faint sounds of movement oher side—voices, footsteps, the unmistakable hum of maery. The Hand was busy, but they were about to be rudely interrupted.

  Mystique gnced back at Light, her eyes narrowing. "Stay sharp," she said, her tone ced with warning. She knew better than to trust him pletely, but for now, they were on the same side.

  Light smirked, the fmes in his hand fring briefly. "Always."

  With a nod, Mystique gave the signal, aeam moved in. They hit the door hard, ons ready, bursting into the room with military precision. The Hand operatives inside barely had time to react before they were met with a hail of gunfire and fmes.

  Light watched from the doorway, his eyes sweeping the room with detached curiosity. The b was a twisted marvel of teology and cruelty—rows of puters whirred, monit the life signs of the unfortunate souls suspended in the gss tanks that lihe walls. Each tank was filled with a sickly green liquid, dist the figures trapped inside. Some were mutants, their bodies bearing the unmistakable marks of their powers, while others appeared to be ordinary humans, perhaps victims of the Hand’s twisted experiments.

  He let out a low whistle, his gaze lingering oanks. “Fifty-three,” he ted aloud, his tone casual, almost bored. “Quite the colle.”

  Mystique’s team was already fanning out, seg the area with practiced efficy. Light watched them for a moment, noting the way they moved—professional, precise, but g the fir that he so ehere was no art to their violeno creativity. It was all so predictable.

  His eyes drifted back to the tanks, and he felt a flicker of something—annoyance, perhaps? Disappoi? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the power these people represented, power that was being wasted, trapped in these gss prisons. Light’s fiwitched, the fmes in his hand fring briefly before he forced them to subside.

  Mystique approached one of the tanks, her expression unreadable as she stared at the mutant within. “We o get them out of here,” she said, her voice low, but firm. “This pce is a death trap.”

  Light leaned against the wall, watg her with a faint smirk. “And here I thought Mago’s people were all about survival of the fittest. What’s the pn? Free them ahem run wild?”

  Mystique shot him a gre, her eyes fshing with anger. “These people have been through enough. They deserve a ce.”

  Light shrugged, uned. “Suit yourself. But don’t expect them to thank you. And definitely don’t expect me to help.”

  With that, he turned on his heel a Mystique to her moral dilemma. He had done his part, set the stage, and now it was time to let the pieces fall where they may. As he stepped out of the underground facility and bato the dimly lit bookstore, he pulled out his phone. His fingers danced over the s as he typed a message to L:

  "Destru, done."

  Light paused, a smirk tugging at the ers of his lips before he sent another message:

  "Oops, typo. I meant distra."

  He chuckled softly to himself, slipping the phone bato his pocket as he pushed open the door to the street. The cool air greeted him, a stark trast to the inferno he had left behind. But there was no time to savor the moment. The Hand would be swarming the area soon, drawn by the chaos he had unleashed.

  As if on cue, Light spotted the dark figures of Hand agents verging on the bookstore. Their movements were swift, silent, and coordinated—just as he expected. He ted at least a huheir preseurning the quiet street into a battlefield. They surrouhe entrance, ons at the ready, their eyes sing for any sign of him.

  Light didn’t give them the ce to attack. With a single, fluid motion, he ignited a massive bst of fire, f them to take a step back, their carefully id pns momentarily disrupted. The light from the fmes reflected in their wide eyes, fear and fury flickering across their faces. But when the smoke cleared, Light was already gone.

  High above the street, he hovered in the sky, watg the chaos below with a grin. The Hand agents were searg frantically for him, their formation broken, their fidence shaken. It was almost too easy, but Light had never beeo shy away from a bit of overkill.

  “Would Mago kill me if Mystique failed to run?” he mused aloud, his voice carrying on the wind. The thought amused him more than it should have, and he ughed—a sharp, cruel sound that echoed across the rooftops. His gaze caught an approag jet but he ig all the same.

  He watched for a moment longer, enjoying the sight of the Hand’s futile efforts tain trol. Then, with a final g the sm ruins below, he vanished into the blue sky, leaving behind only the lingering st of smoke and the sound of distant, panicked shouts.

  --

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