The Hero Returns with his Yandere Wife-Chapter 21 - 20

The battlefield pulsed like a living wound, a storm of fists, steel, and shadows ravaging the once-grand lobby of Catapony's base.

Marble floors gleamed slick with blood, cracked and scarred from the relentless violence.

Debris littered the ground—shattered glass, splintered wood, the twisted husks of fallen bodies.

The air thrummed with the clash of metal, the sizzle of electricity, the wet crunch of flesh meeting bone.

Above, Ryn's fight with Catapony roared on, explosions shaking the ceiling, dust raining like ash.

Below, Mira and Elena fought for their lives.

Mira was outnumbered.

Elena was outmatched.

Yet neither flinched.

The odds were a death sentence—dozens of villains against two battered heroes.

But surrender wasn't in their blood.

Soren's frost-kissed blades carved through the air, steel flashing under the flickering chandeliers.

She moved like a phantom, swift and merciless, her footwork a blur as she weaved through Mira's shadow tendrils.

Each slash was precise, aimed to sever, to kill—her blades glinting with icy menace.

Lira flanked her, zipping past like a lightning bolt, electricity crackling along her arms, her arcs slicing at the darkness.

"What's wrong, Darkshadow?" Lira sneered, flipping over a tendril that lunged for her leg.

"Not as scary when you've got real fighters, huh?"

Mira's face was a mask—cold, deadly, unreadable.

Her black eyes flickered between them, deep and hypnotic, calculating every move.

She didn't waste breath on taunts.

Instead, she twirled on her heels, her black gown billowing as shadows thickened around her.

The air grew heavy, the light dimming as darkness swallowed the space.

Soren struck first.

Her dual blades lashed out with calculated fury—one aimed at Mira's ribs, the other at her throat.

Mira twisted mid-air, her form shifting into a shadowy silhouette, the swords phasing through her like smoke.

Lira pounced.

Electricity surged, a blinding white flash filling Mira's vision.

In an instant, Lira's knee drove toward Mira's stomach.

Mira raised a shadow shield, but the impact still sent her skidding back, boots scraping marble.

She landed, knees bent.

Then—she vanished.

Soren and Lira froze, scanning the gloom.

A whisper slid through the air.

"You two are annoying."

Lira felt it first.

A chill crawled up her spine.

Shadows behind her shifted unnaturally, wrapping her wrists and ankles like iron chains.

She electrocuted herself instinctively, arcs flaring outward.

The tendrils siphoned the energy, swallowing her sparks, dimming them to nothing.

Soren lunged to free her.

SHNK!

A spike of darkness shot from the floor, grazing Soren's cheek.

Blood trickled, a thin red line.

She spun away, dodging another tendril that lashed at her legs.

"You're fast," Mira mused, stepping from the shadows.

"But—"

Soren cut her off.

A blur of steel—her swords struck Mira's abdomen.

The blades sank in.

Lira gasped, hope flickering.

But Mira... smiled.

Soren's stomach dropped.

Her blades met no resistance.

Mira's body wasn't solid—just shifting shadows.

Soren yanked back.

Too late.

Mira's form twisted, reforming behind Soren.

Her breath ghosted against Soren's ear.

"Got you."

A tendril plunged into Soren's stomach.

Soren gagged, blood spilling from her lips, staining her frost-kissed hair.

Mira released her, watching coldly as Soren collapsed, blades clattering beside her.

Lira screamed, fury igniting her electricity to a blinding roar.

She charged—

A shadow pierced her leg.

She cried out, crashing to one knee, her arcs sputtering as darkness clamped her limbs.

Mira loomed over them, tilting her head.

"Didn't you say something about 'real fighters'?"

Soren coughed, blood pooling beneath her.

Lira panted, arms trembling under the shadows' grip.

Mira sighed, theatrical and bored.

"Pathetic."

Her shadows tightened.

Soren's eyes rolled back.

Lira's head lolled.

Both fell unconscious, broken.

While Mira carved her path, Elena waged a war of her own.

Blood dripped from a gash on her forehead, blurring her good eye.

Her body screamed—ribs bruised, thigh bleeding, shoulder throbbing—but she didn't stop.

She couldn't.

A C-rank villain lunged, pipe swinging.

She ducked, slamming a metal fist into his ribs.

Bones cracked, a sharp snap echoing.

He crumpled, wheezing.

An A-rank speedster blurred toward her.

She caught him mid-dash, twisting his arm.

A brutal snap—he screamed, dropping.

More came.

She elbowed a woman's jaw, teeth flying.

Headbutted another, blood spraying.

Spun, slamming her heel into a chest—ribs caved.

But they were endless.

A fist smashed her ribs, pain flaring.

She staggered, breath hitching.

Another grabbed her from behind, locking her arms.

A dagger plunged into her shoulder.

She roared, pain searing, but didn't fall.

Her vision darkened, edges fraying.

She swung blindly, fist connecting with flesh.

Blood sprayed—hers or theirs, she couldn't tell.

They pressed closer.

A B-rank with claws raked her arm.

She punched his throat, crushing his windpipe.

He gurgled, fell.

An A-rank with sonic power screamed—a wave of sound hit her.

Her ears rang, balance wavering.

She kicked his knee—bone snapped.

He collapsed, silenced.

But the horde tightened.

Blitzstrike darted in, a speed-blur, fist slamming her jaw.

Her head snapped back, blood flooding her mouth.

She spat, glaring.

A venom-spined woman fired needles.

Elena dove, rolling across the slick floor.

Spines embedded in a grunt behind her—he convulsed, screaming.

She rose, swaying.

Her iron fist clenched, trembling.

Too many.

Her breath rasped, shallow.

A brute tackled her, pinning her arms.

She kneed his groin, threw him off.

Another punched her gut—air fled her lungs.

She doubled over, gasping.

The circle closed.

Grins widened, hungry.

She straightened, defiance burning.

Her body begged to stop.

Her will refused.

BOOM!

A massive explosion tore through the front entrance.

Glass shattered, a deadly rain slicing the air.

The shockwave ripped through the lobby, hurling villains like ragdolls.

Elena hit the ground hard, gasping, coughing.

Her ears rang, dust choking her.

She was alive.

Barely.

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Villains groaned, scattered across the wreckage.

Some didn't move—limbs twisted, skulls cracked.

The blast came from outside—someone new?

Elena pushed up, arms shaking.

Her vision swam, blood dripping.

A shadow loomed.

She tensed, fist rising.

But it wasn't an enemy.

It was Mira.

Mira stood untouched, shadows curling at her feet.

Her black eyes gleamed, deep and unyielding.

The explosion hadn't fazed her.

It had distracted her enemies.

She seized the moment.

She vanished.

Her shadows flashed through the battlefield, a vengeful storm.

A grunt felt a tendril wrap his throat—his neck snapped.

Another ran—a shadow spike impaled his chest.

A third whimpered as Mira emerged behind him.

Her blade sliced his throat—blood sprayed, silent.

She moved like death itself, relentless, precise.

Villains fell—one, two, five, ten.

The dust settled.

Mira stood victorious.

Blood stained her hands, her gown.

She flicked it off, bored.

Her black eyes lifted.

The broken ceiling gaped above.

Ryn was still up there.

Her shadows rippled, restless.

She didn't glance at Elena.

She whispered, soft and sharp:

"Where are you, Ryn?"

Elena clawed to her feet, leaning on a shattered pillar.

Her arms shook, muscles failing.

A villain lunged, knocking the pillar away.

She stumbled, defenseless.

A dagger sank into her stomach.

Pain exploded, white-hot.

She gasped, blood spilling.

Her vision dimmed.

The world blurred.

Her knees buckled.

She fell.

Villains closed in, grinning.

Then—BOOM!

A second explosion.

No—a meteor?

Ryn.

He crashed down from above, a comet of fire, flames trailing like a god's wrath.

The impact shook the earth, a fiery shockwave blasting outward.

Villains flew—some burned, some broken.

The lobby became a burning ring.

Ryn stood at its heart.

His jacket smoked, blood streaked his face—not his.

His amber eyes blazed, no longer casual.

No longer amused.

Rage incarnate.

He saw Elena—barely breathing, stabbed, broken.

His fists tightened, flames crackling.

He turned to the grunts.

His voice boomed, a thunderclap.

"Catapony is dead."

Silence.

Villains stiffened, horror dawning.

Ryn stepped forward, flames roaring higher.

"Surrender and kneel."

Some dropped instantly, trembling.

Others—cockier, dumber—charged.

Mira sighed, stretching.

"Idiots."

She vanished.

Shadows flickered.

Bodies hit the floor.

Throats slit, spines snapped.

The last saw Mira's cruel grin in the dark.

Ryn ignored them.

He knelt, lifting Elena into his arms.

She was limp, blood soaking his hands.

"Elena," he murmured, voice low.

"Stay with me."

She didn't stir.

Her chest rose—faint, erratic.

A grunt whispered from the kneeling crowd.

"There's a hospital—five kilometers..."

Ryn's flames surged, heat warping the air.

He turned toward the city.

Hope.

Salvation.

With a roar of fire, he launched towards that direction.

Flames trailed, a beacon in the night.

He vanished, carrying Elena away.

Mira remained, shadows coiling, along with the scared crowd.

Her black eyes scanned the wreckage.

The lobby was a graveyard—bodies strewn, blood pooling.

Kneeling villains whimpered, heads bowed.

She stepped forward, gown trailing through the gore.

Her gaze lifted to the sky.

Ryn was gone.

She'd felt his rage—his fear.

For Elena.

Her lips pressed thin.

Shadows tightened around the grunt's throat who opened his mouth.

He gasped, clawing.

Mira stood alone, her dark eyes following his path.

For the first time since the battle began, her face betrayed an emotion other than amusement.

Something cold. Something dark.

A whisper only she could hear.

"You left me behind..., Ryn."

Her voice was ice cold.

--snap--