In the morning, Morvathos went into the storage room and brought out some cleaning equipment.
They were rough and old, barely usable, but he would make do for now. He wanted to clear a room—his old room—and also clean the hallway and kitchen.
He started with the bathroom. Dust layered every surface, thick and gray. He opened the tap and realized the water supply was off, probably because the bill hadn't been paid.
The electricity was off too. Morvathos paused. Frustration flared briefly, but he quickly put the task on hold and went to the city mayor's office to handle the utilities.
By the afternoon, he was back at the house. He had already started cleaning. The mop broke in half while he was working on the hallway.
"Bruh..."
He shook his head, muttering under his breath, and switched to using a towel. By evening, the hallway, kitchen, and his room were spotless. Dust was gone, floors gleamed under the light, and everything felt orderly.
Morvathos looked at his work with a satisfied smile. Work distracted him from the massive burden on his shoulders.
He barely felt any physical strain. His race was strong; if this had been before, he might have been exhausted or at death's door by now. Night had fallen, but it was time to earn some money.
The electricity and water supply were restored. At the mayor's office, Morvathos politely asked the mayor to handle some paperwork while casually holding his scythe at the mayor's neck.
Within minutes, electricity and water were back. He also requested documents for identity, location, and the scythe. All of it was fake, but backed by the mayor.
He asked for deeds to the house, claiming to be a distant relative of the previous owner. The mayor looked skeptical but nodded, asking for three days to process it.
Morvathos reminded him quietly to keep it secret, warning that otherwise he could end up somewhere undesirable the next day. The mayor nodded, and Morvathos left.
He didn't use Umbral Desolation. He simply walked calmly toward the city, hoodie over his face. First, he followed the riverbank, crossed a bridge, and entered the bustling streets.
Neon lights reflected off tall buildings. Cars honked in the distance, and people talked as they moved. The area was lively, but this wasn't his destination.
He slipped into alleys, making quiet turns. Gradually, the city lights dimmed, and the streets became heavier and darker.
Fewer people were around. Shadows stretched along the walls, and the smell of damp concrete filled the air.
Some people stared at him from the sides of the alley, eyes wary, trying to hide their predatory gaze. Morvathos walked confidently, daring anyone to act. He knew the ones at risk were them, not him. No one moved.
Of course, there were always idiots. Two men appeared, knives raised. Morvathos activated his Eyes of Death. Their karmic sin was low, barely Tier 1. Their destinies were transparent. He grabbed one by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
The other tried to run, but Morvathos caught him by the back of the neck, forcing him down. The men begged for mercy, fear evident in every movement.
He let them go but demanded everything they had—about 15,000 yen. Not much, but enough.
He asked for the location of a larger gang, one rich in resources and money. The men hesitated, scared, but finally gave directions.
Morvathos nodded and let them flee. Other thugs in the area had already scattered when he lifted the first man.
Following the directions, he arrived at an under-construction building. Fifteen stories tall, but the thirteenth floor was fully built with a brick wall enclosing it.
Music and laughter drifted down. The boss had been using this floor as a hideout for a long time.
He found a working elevator, pressed the button for the thirteenth floor, and stepped inside. When the doors opened, the music got louder. Disco lights flashed.
Gang members danced with women, bodies rubbing together. A thug DJ held a woman while groping her. Morvathos walked toward him.
He activated his Eyes of Death, scanning the karma of each gang member one at a time. Fourteen members in total, their karmic sins ranging from mid-level to nearly Tier 2. The boss and his main lackeys were fat and snake-like, both in Tier 2.
Excitement ran through Morvathos. His earlier frustration had faded. For while, whenever he was alone, his frustration would come back. But his situation brought smile to his face. He had found a goldmine—Souls with Tier-2 karmic sin well into the realm.
The nether fissure had destabilized Kamakura, so killing them now wouldn't cause backlash. His instinct confirmed it: the area's karma was unstable, their fates likely leading to major setbacks, possibly death.
He approached the DJ. Before the man could react, Morvathos grabbed his head and slammed him into the DJ table.
"AAAAAHHHH!!"
The woman screamed. Everyone looked in this direction, the music stopped.
He pulled the thug by his hair, slamming him again and again until the table cracked in half. Blood sprouted from the thugs face like volcano, thickand red. Shards of plastic embedded in the thug's skin and eyes.
The thug's face was ruined, eyes wide in horror. Morvathos didn't care. He grabbed the DJ thug by the neck and pressed it hard, choking him. The man's eyes bulged, mouth opened, skin tore near the jaw showing white then quickly turned red. The thugs thrash but quickly stopped.
Dead.
All of it happened within seconds. The woman fainted. The other gang members froze, too stunned to react.
The blood on Morvathos's hand turned into black mist and vanished.
Morvathos extended his right hand into the air. The authority seal pulsed with a silver‑white glow, and his scythe materialized.
He spun it once in his hand. Around him, the thugs had already drawn their weapons. All the woman screamed as they ran out of the building.
"Alright fellas give me all your money."
Morvathos said simply as his scythe rested on his shoulders.
"Money? Boys! This bastard wants money. Let's give him a plenty. KILL HIM!!"
The Boss barked.
Morvathos smiled faintly.
He crouched, gathering strength in his legs, and then sprinted toward the group. The thugs spread out as he charged.
He felt like playing with them. His mood was sour—frustration and helplessness knotted in his chest—and he wanted to share it with someone. Petty or not, he didn't care.
He would give these thugs a taste of the false hope they gave their victims. He would let them think they could beat him, then show it was only a ploy.
Morvathos swung his scythe at a thug with a metal bat.
*Tang!~*
Metal clashed on metal. Of course, Morvathos wasn't using his full strength. Where's the fun in that?Another thug lunged with a knife. Morvathos dodged.
A third came from the right, slashing down. He slipped past them all with ease, though to outsiders it looked like he was barely holding on.
"We can do this, brother! He's just a trickster!"
One thug shouted. They circled Morvathos, stepping forward together. Morvathos spun his scythe and slashed at a neck.
A red light flickered across the thug's throat and vanished, and the man dropped twitching. Before the others could react, Morvathos slashed twice more.
Two more thugs fell. The rest froze, convincing themselves their friends were only unconscious.
Their boss barked orders behind them; they couldn't back down. They shouted to each other, trying to drown out the reality in front of them.
Morvathos smiled. His mood brightened. All the thugs rushed him at once. This time he didn't play. He vanished. A thug slumped backward with thud. Morvathos was gone. The room went silent.
The lights flickered and went out. When they came back on, two thugs were missing. Panic spread. Even the boss was shouting for Morvathos to stop hiding and fight.
Sweat dripped down faces. The lights went off again. This time three were gone. Someone started crying. Another wet themselves.
Bodies kept vanishing until only corpses, the fat boss, and his snake‑faced lackey remained. Their bravado cracked. They bolted for the elevator.
"Didn't you wanted to give me a lot of money?"
A voice came from behind them. They turned and saw Morvathos sitting on the boss's chair, elbow propped on the armrest, head resting on his hand, legs slung over the side.
He looked calm with a faint amused smile looking harmless. But a faint pressure rolled off him that made their knees buckle. They knelt without thinking.
Morvathos walked up to them. He swung his scythe once. The snake‑faced man collapsed. The pig‑like boss trembled. Morvathos crouched at his eye level, smiling—a benevolent smile that never reached his eyes.
"I will say it again. Give me all your money."
He said softly.
The boss scrambled, nodding.
"Yes, yes, take it all."
He reached into his shirt, pulled out his wallet, and handed over a card.
"This card has ten million yen I took from another gang. The password is XXXX."
"Can I go now?"
The boss stammered.
Morvathos stood, glancing at the card and memorizing the password. He smiled and nodded.
"Go on. Run."
The boss bowed deeply and stumbled toward the elevator, jabbing the button over and over. The doors slid open. As he took his first step when he saw Morvathos smiling, scythe raised in the reflection.
"I said I'd let you go. I never said I'd let you live."
Morvathos said.
The scythe fell. The boss crumpled, face frozen in horror.
'Man~ I wanted to say that line even once in my life~.'
Morvathos'sood visibly improved. He wasn't feeling the level of frustration as before.
'I should do this once in a while.'
As Morvathos was cooking up plans to play with mortal sinners in the future, he pocketed the card, left the building, and went into the city to buy supplies with the cash he'd taken.
Back at home, he lay down. He was exhausted—less than the night before, but still drained. He'd dealt with many souls tonight. He decided to pause his hunting for a few days. Too much of anything was dangerous.
Three days passed at his parents' old house. At night, he met the mayor to finalize documents.
Morvathos praised the man, who smiled sheepishly and bowed, handing over his business card and telling him to call if he needed anything else.
Morvathos went into the city, bought a phone, opened a bank account, transferred the money, and got a bank card.
He crushed the old card in his hand and discarded it. He applied to transfer to a school the next day and was scheduled to join on Monday.
For the first time in a while, he felt a flicker of excitement. The tension of survival loosened. He realized that if he just sat around thinking about his inevitable fate, he might do something reckless.
Staying among people, distracting himself, was safer. And what better way than flexing in front of some high schoolers?