Not far from Asari Ugetsu's storm-washed battlefield, another war raged.
But unlike the quiet calm of rain, this side of Hell's Kitchen was an inferno.
A suffocating heatwave rolled in like a tidal wave. Explosions thundered without end, as though the sky itself were being ripped apart by fire.
The heavens over the container terminal had long since turned a putrid orange-red, bathed in the blaze of encroaching destruction—a sky prophesying apocalypse.
And beneath it, standing tall upon the melted husk of a billboard, was a man wreathed in flames.
G, the First Storm Guardian of the Vongola, stood like a god of war reborn in fire.
His long scarlet cloak flared violently in the wind, and every step he took cracked the asphalt beneath him, leaving glowing trails of lava. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath his presence.
At his feet, three fire hydrants had collapsed, melted into grotesque, twisted wreckage. From their pooling metal, a strange crest took shape—Mirufiore's insignia, seared into the blackened ground.
G frowned.
"A parallel universe family... launching war here so brazenly?" he muttered. His eyes glinted with anger, and resolve.
To the west, the docks were already lost.
Twelve tanker trucks had gone up in a chain of explosions, now nothing but molten skeletons. Fire ruled everything—gnawing on shipping containers, girders, even air itself. No storm could wash away this fire.
The smell of scorched rubber, burning oil, and despair was thick enough to choke God.
Then, amid the firestorm, a mocking voice rang out:
"Third block cleared~"
A man emerged from the flames, peeling back the burnt collar of his designer suit. On his chest, the Mare Ring shimmered with malicious light—shaping fire into a leering skull.
Pomegranate, a Mist-attribute enforcer of the Six Hanging Flowers, grinned savagely.
"Now let's flush out the sewer rats."
G's pupils narrowed.
Fifty meters away, through fire and ruin, he saw three civilians cowering beneath a shattered billboard. Molten steel hung overhead like the executioner's axe—seconds from falling.
Without hesitation, G drew three arrows from his quiver, each engraved with the Vongola crest.
Flames ignited along the shafts as he fired.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each arrow struck with surgical precision, severing the billboard's load-bearing supports. The burning wreckage collapsed safely—harmlessly—into dust and slag.
As the civilians stumbled free, G strode into view.
Long ochre-red hair pulled into a high ponytail. An indigo cloak rippling in the firestorm. His burning bow was drawn, and its tip aimed squarely between Pomegranate's eyes.
"This isn't war," G growled. "This is butchery."
He tore off his blood-soaked gloves. The Storm Flame burst to life on his fingers—violent, relentless, pure.
"And I swore to never let anyone destroy what Vongola I and Alex Ray built with their own hands."
The flame on the arrowhead howled like a dragon.
G loosed the arrow.
A roaring column of fire shot forward, cutting through the flames like a lance of justice.
Pomegranate's mechanical arm whipped up and caught the arrow midair. Sparks burst from his reinforced knuckles.
"You're G, the Vongola's Storm Guardian?" Pomegranate sneered. "This is all you've got?"
Then—
CRACK.
The arrow exploded with blinding red light.
Pomegranate staggered three steps, black scorch marks hissing on his mechanical arm.
G landed silently atop the flames, nocking another arrow.
"You know me," he said. "Then you know the cost of laying waste to Hell's Kitchen."
The next arrow ignited.
"This one will kill you."
Pomegranate chuckled.
"Destruction is its own kind of protection." He crushed the flaming skull in his palm.
FWOOOM!
A towering blast wave erupted—twenty meters high.
"Let's see how crispy I can roast you!"
G didn't flinch.
He leapt backward, kicking off the hot air itself. From his quiver, seven arrows shot skyward—blazing meteors in the night.
One tore the blast apart. Another ignited falling debris, converting it into searing shrapnel.
The third split Pomegranate's cloak—the mark of his status—clean in half.
And the final arrow? It grazed the Mare Ring, burning the Vongola emblem into the steel wall behind him. A declaration of sovereignty. Of vengeance.
Pomegranate stood frozen, lips curling into a wide, predatory grin.
"So you've got claws after all, G…"
He peeled off his ruined cloak. His bronze skin shimmered—etched with glowing veins of magma.
"You want fireworks? I'll show you fireworks."
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
Thirty-six buried oil tanks detonated in a synchronized eruption.
G sprinted across the crumbling dock, loosing arrow after arrow into the sky. Each one exploded midair, generating Mist Flames that broke down the flaming oil into harmless vapor—opening escape corridors for fleeing residents.
"I won't let you destroy this place… or Alex Ray'll chew me out for days!"
He leapt skyward.
"Storm's Secret Technique: Yatagarasu."
His cloak unraveled, transforming into nine hundred blazing crows, each carrying within them a fraction of the energy released by the Hiroshima bomb.
They swarmed like a galaxy of fire, converging on Pomegranate.
But he wasn't idle.
Stone pillars erupted around him, forming a fortress of rock to withstand the inferno.
Still, G advanced.
Pomegranate erupted from the center of the flames, his mechanical arm morphing into a colossal battle axe, humming with black-red lightning.
"HELLFIRE SLASH!"
The axe came down—splitting flame, space, and time.
But G... sidestepped.
Effortless. Silent.
The axe shattered buildings behind him, pulverizing the dock into ruin. Rubble rained like meteors.
Using the momentum, G spun, pulled his bow to full draw, and fired point-blank into the shadow of the axe.
The arrow struck a weak point in Pomegranate's arm.
With a roar of pain, Pomegranate ripped off his own smoldering limb. Sparks sprayed from the severed socket.
Then, from the stump, he pulled a whip of molten lava.
"Hundred-Layered Hell of Fire!"
He lashed it into the earth.
A forest of firewalls rose instantly, transforming the dock into a flaming labyrinth.
G vanished into the inferno—dodging, flipping, weaving through cracks between walls. Every landing triggered an explosion, buying more time for evacuation.
Arrows fell like a chaotic meteor shower—erratic, unpredictable.
Pomegranate laughed.
"Shaking already? Can't even aim straight?"
But G was unmoved.
He kept firing—eyes calm, expression unreadable.
"Let the arrow fly a little longer," he whispered.
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Bonus Chapter - 150 Power Stones
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