Chapter 25: The Rescue
The streets of Daiyo stretched before Kenshiro and Haru, bathed in the dim glow of flickering lanterns and the fading light of dusk. The air was thick with the scent of street food and the distant murmur of merchants packing up their stalls. The two men walked with unsteady steps, their movements slightly sluggish from the lingering effects of the sake. Their heads still buzzed, but the cool evening air helped clear the worst of the fog from their minds.
They kept their eyes sharp, scanning the crowds for any sign of pursuit. Shen's men were everywhere in this city, lurking in shadows, watching from alleys, but tonight, strangely, no one seemed to pay them much attention. No lingering gazes, no sudden shifts in posture from passersby that might betray a tail. It was almost unsettling.
Too easy, Kenshiro thought, his fingers brushing against the hilt of his dagger.
Kenshiro, ever the optimist, nudged him with an elbow. "Maybe we're just lucky for once."
Haru grunted. "Or maybe we're walking right into a trap."
Still, they pressed on, weaving through the thinning crowds until the buildings grew sparse, the grand facades of the inner city giving way to crumbling structures and neglected alleyways. The southern edge of Daiyo was a forgotten place, where the city's wealth and power tapered off into rot and ruin.
And there, standing crookedly against the darkening sky, was the building.
It was a miracle it hadn't collapsed already. The walls sagged inward, the roof slanted at a precarious angle, and the entire structure seemed to groan under its own weight. The wooden beams were splintered, the plaster cracked and peeling. A gust of wind might have been enough to send it toppling.
Haru let out a low whistle. "Well. If this isn't the place he meant, then I don't know what is."
Kenshiro eyed the building warily. "It's the only one that matches his description."
They approached cautiously, their boots crunching over broken cobblestones. The door, if it could even be called that, was a slab of warped wood, half-buried under the weight of the sagging frame. Haru grabbed the rusted handle and pulled. Nothing.
Kenshiro joined him, both men bracing their feet against the ground as they yanked with all their strength. The wood groaned in protest, the hinges screaming like a dying animal. Slowly, agonizingly, the door inched open, just wide enough for them to slip through.
Haru wiped sweat from his brow. "Spirits, it's not just heavy, the whole damn building is crushing it shut."
Kenshiro shot him a look. "And this is where he told us to meet?"
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the musty scent of decay. The floorboards creaked ominously beneath their feet, and the few remaining pieces of furniture, a shattered chair, a broken table, lay scattered like bones in a crypt. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the walls, casting jagged shadows across the floor.
Haru exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Why the hell would he choose a place like this?"
Kenshiro didn't answer. He was too busy listening, for footsteps, for breathing, for any sign that they weren't alone. But the only sound was the distant creak of settling wood.
They moved deeper inside, their senses sharpening as the sake's haze continued to fade. The weight of the night pressed down on them, the uncertainty of Rilo's fate, the mystery of the old man's motives, the gnawing fear that they were being played.
Haru leaned against a wall, arms crossed. "You think he actually got Rilo out?"
Kenshiro frowned. "If he didn't, then we just left Yogan behind for nothing."
Haru's jaw tightened. "And if he did... who is he? Why help us?"
Kenshiro had no answer. The old man had known too much, about Mariko, about Rilo's location, about them. That kind of knowledge didn't come from coincidence.
A gust of wind rattled the walls, and for a heartbeat, the building seemed to sway. Both men tensed, half-expecting the roof to cave in.
Then…
A voice, low and rasping, cut through the silence.
"You two took your time."
They whirled around.
In the far corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest, a figure stepped forward. The old man. And slung over his shoulder, barely conscious but unmistakably alive…
Rilo.
The old man stepped fully into the dim light, his face shadowed but his grip steady as he adjusted Rilo's limp form over his shoulder. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandages wrapped around Rilo's torso, and his breathing was shallow but even.
"I arrived an hour ago," the old man said, his voice rough but calm. "Had to tend to his injuries. That's why he's out cold, gave him something to dull the pain."
Kenshiro rushed forward, his hands hovering over Rilo's battered body. "Spirits… what did they do to him?"
The old man's jaw tightened. "Shen or his men aren't gentle with their prisoners." He shifted Rilo's weight, revealing more wounds, some fresh, some scabbed over, all brutal. "He'll live. But we don't have time to linger. Your other friend is still in that cell, and the princess…"
"The princess?" Haru cut in, his voice sharp. "Why the hell should we care about her?"
The old man didn't flinch. "Because she's part of this whether you like it or not."
Kenshiro shot Haru a confused glance, but Haru's eyes stayed locked on the old man, his suspicion hardening. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Why are you helping us?"
The old man exhaled through his nose, as if he'd expected the question but still found it tedious. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," Haru snapped. "It damn well does."
The old man studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Call me an interested party."
Haru's fingers twitched toward his dagger. "That's not an answer."
The tension in the room thickened. Kenshiro, still kneeling beside Rilo, looked between them, his confusion deepening. "Haru, what's…?"
But Haru wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on the old man, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep calling her princess. Not Mariko. Princess. Every damn time." He took a step forward. "Are you working for her?"
Silence.
The old man didn't move, didn't blink. The only sound was the creak of the building settling around them, the groan of wood under unseen pressure.
Kenshiro's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
Haru didn't back down. "Your silence is answer enough," he said coldly. "You are working for her."
The old man let out a slow breath. Then, finally, he spoke.
"No."
A beat.
"I work for the king."
Kenshiro stiffened. Haru's grip on his dagger tightened.
The old man continued, his voice steady. "She doesn't even know I've been sent to spy on her. To keep her safe. To keep her out of trouble." His gaze flicked to Rilo, then back to Haru. "Which is why I rescued your friend. And why I'm asking you to help me rescue the other one, and the princess."
Haru's lip curled. "After what she did to Yogan? You expect us to…"
"I expect you to see the bigger picture," the old man interrupted. "You think Shen's just going to let her walk away after this? You think he won't use her as leverage against Yogan? Against all of you?" He shook his head. "If you leave her there, you're signing his death warrant too."
Kenshiro swallowed hard, looking down at Rilo's unconscious form. Then at Haru. "He's… not wrong."
Haru's jaw worked, his knuckles white around his weapon. But after a long, tense moment, he exhaled sharply and sheathed the dagger. "Fine. But this doesn't mean we trust you."
The old man smirked. "Wouldn't expect you to."
A gust of wind rattled the walls again, and the building groaned ominously. The old man adjusted Rilo's weight. "We need to move. Now."
Kenshiro nodded, helping to steady Rilo as the old man shifted him into a better hold. Haru cast one last glare at the old man, then turned toward the door.
"Where do we start?" he muttered.
The old man's smile was grim. "First, we get your friend somewhere safe. Then?" His eyes glinted in the dim light.
"We break into a prison."
***
The night air was thick with the scent of rain as Boss Shen returned to his casino, his boots thudding against the cobblestones with the weight of a man who owned the very ground beneath him. His men flanked him in silence, their faces grim under the flickering lantern light. The city's noise faded behind them as they approached the grand entrance, where two guards stood at attention, their postures stiffening at the sight of their master.
Shen paused, his cold gaze sweeping over them. "Any trouble?"
The taller guard shook his head. "None, Boss. Quiet night."
A muscle twitched in Shen's jaw. Too quiet. He didn't trust quiet.
"Good," he rumbled. "Let's go see my favorite prisoner."
The casino's interior was alive with its usual chaos—dice clattering, cards shuffling, the occasional drunken cheer—but Shen paid it no mind. He strode past the tables, his presence alone enough to part the crowd like a blade through silk. His men followed, their footsteps a synchronized echo of his own.
When he reached the unmarked door near the back with the single buff looking guard, the same one the old man had slipped through hours before, he didn't bother with the handle. Instead, he planted his left foot firmly against the ground and stomped.
The earth beneath him shuddered. The floor groaned, then split apart with a sound like cracking bone, revealing a hidden staircase descending into darkness. Without hesitation, Shen stepped into the void, his men close behind.
The air grew colder as they descended, damp and heavy with the metallic tang of old blood. Torches flickered to life along the walls, their flames casting long, writhing shadows. The dungeon was a place of suffering, a testament to Shen's power—and his patience.
But when he reached the chamber where Rilo had been chained, the chains hung empty.
Shen froze.
The manacles were still locked, but the prisoner was gone. No broken links, no signs of struggle—just the faint imprint of a body in the dirt and the lingering scent of sweat and blood. The blanket Shen's men used to cover Rilo between sessions lay discarded in the corner.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, slowly, Shen turned to his men. His voice was dangerously soft.
"Explain this."
The guards exchanged panicked glances. One of them, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, swallowed hard. "Boss, we—we checked on him not two hours ago. He was here. We swear it."
Shen's fingers curled into fists. His knuckles cracked.
"Then where is he now?"
Silence.
The answer was obvious: someone had taken him. Someone who knew the dungeon's secrets. Someone who could move unseen.
Shen's mind raced. The two men from the casino—the one who had played with Rilo and his friend. The one who had watched.
A snarl twisted his lips. He should have killed those meddling bastards when he had the chance.
He turned on his heel, his cloak whipping behind him as he stormed back toward the stairs. "Find them," he growled. "Tear this city apart if you have to. But bring me Rilo. And the two fools." His voice dropped to a whisper, cold as a grave.
"Alive."
***
The dungeon air hung thick with damp and decay, the only sounds the distant drip of water and the scuttle of unseen things in the dark. Yogan sat motionless in his lotus position, his breathing slow and even, his eyes closed. His stillness was absolute—so complete that he might have been carved from stone.
Across the cell, Mariko paced. Her boots scuffed against the dirt floor, her fingers twisting together in restless agitation. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged tiger.
"Will you stop hovering, you crazy bitch?"
The voice came from the blackness of a distant cell, rough and mocking. Mariko couldn't see the speaker in the gloom, but she didn't need to. She knew that voice.
"Shut up, crazy bastard," she snapped back.
A dry chuckle echoed through the dungeon. "I guess your plans failed, didn't they, princess?" The old prisoner's tone was smug, needling. "You were in here the other day, so arrogant about your master plan. But here you are—just like the rest of us."
Mariko stopped mid-step, her body tensing. Slowly, she turned toward the voice, squinting into the shadows where she could just make out the hunched silhouette of the old man.
"Fuck you," she spat.
"Every day I'm alive," the old man shot back, his voice dripping with amusement. "What I need is a girl like you to fuck me."
"In your dreams," Mariko hissed.
"Every night I sleep," the old man replied without missing a beat.
Mariko's face twisted in disgust. She turned away from him, her gaze landing on Yogan, who remained as still as ever, untouched by their bickering.
"How can you be so calm in all of this?" she demanded, her voice sharp with frustration.
"He's not there, girl," the old man called from the dark.
Mariko whirled. "Spirits, would you please shut the fuck up?" she screamed. Then, after a beat: "And what the fuck do you mean?"
"His body is here, but he's in the spirit world," the old man explained, as casually as if discussing the weather.
Mariko blinked. "The spirit world?" She had heard stories, of course, whispers of a realm beyond the physical, where spirits walked and the boundaries of reality blurred. She had even seen spirits herself, drifting at the edges of mortal sight. But she had never met a human who could go there. Not on purpose.
"Well, he's an airbender," the old man continued, his voice laced with something like grudging respect. "Their whole thing is spiritual enlightenment." A pause. "Sometimes, he even hovers above the ground. Freaks me out."
Mariko's eyes flicked back to Yogan. His stillness took on new meaning.
"He must be really special," the old man mused. "Not even the most powerful airbenders can enter the spirit world at will."
Mariko studied Yogan's serene face, the faint rise and fall of his chest. A strange warmth flickered in her chest, part awe, part satisfaction. She had been right to choose him as her husband. Power like that, wisdom like that… he would be a formidable tool for her people.
The thought twisted into frustration. 'Damn Shen for interfering.'
Just then, Yogan's eyes opened.
He blinked, his gaze unfocused for a moment before sharpening as he took in his surroundings. His eyes landed on Mariko, who was staring at him with an intensity that made him stiffen slightly.
"Were you really in the spirit world?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Yogan exhaled, stretching his shoulders. So. She was curious.
"There's not much to do here but meditate," he admitted. Then, with a faint smile: "Funny thing is, back at the temple, I'd find any excuse not to meditate. But being away from them… I've missed it. It makes me feel like I'm back there. With my best friend, Yoan."
"A boy missing his best friend," the old man sneered from the shadows. "What a load of crap. Grow the fuck up."
Yogan didn't rise to the bait. He simply smiled.
"I see you're still as crazy as ever," he said to the old man.
"I've been crazy since we lived under the protection of the lion turtles, boy," the old man shot back.
"The lion turtles?" Mariko cut in, her brow furrowing. "That was some eighty years ago." She studied the old man's silhouette, her voice laced with disbelief. "How old are you?"
Silence stretched. Then,
"Really old," Yogan answered softly.
***
Dawn crept over Daiyo like a slow-blooming bruise, pale gold at the edges, deepening to purple where the night still clung to the rooftops. The air was crisp with the promise of morning, carrying the scent of dew and distant smoke from early risers lighting their hearths.
In the back room of Ruan's blacksmith shop, hidden behind shelves of half-forged blades and crates of raw ore, Kenshiro and Haru stood over Rilo's unconscious form. The blacksmith himself loomed nearby, his massive arms crossed, his expression unreadable beneath the soot streaking his face.
The old man leaned against the wall, his hood pulled low. "He'll be safe here," he said, nodding to Rilo. "Ruan's one of ours."
Haru's eyes narrowed. "One of whose?"
The old man ignored the question. "We don't have time for this. The plan's simple—distraction, then extraction." He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his voice dropping. "I'll handle the distraction. Something loud enough to pull every city guard in the district away from their posts. While they're scrambling, you two slip into the dungeon and get Yogan and the princess out."
Kenshiro rubbed his temples. "And how, exactly, are we supposed to do that? The place is crawling with earthbender city guards."
The old man smirked. "Most of them will be busy with me. The ones left won't be expecting you." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, folded map, spreading it across a workbench. "There's a side entrance here—used for supply deliveries. It's lightly guarded. You get in, get them, get out. No heroics."
Haru scoffed. "And what's your distraction?"
The old man's grin was all teeth. "Let's just say Daiyo's about to have a very bad day."
Ruan grunted. "I'll take Rilo south," he said, jerking his chin toward the door where a covered carriage waited, loaded with ore sacks. "There's a cave by the river, south-west of the city. Hidden. We'll meet you there."
Kenshiro nodded. "And if we're followed?"
"Then you're dead," the old man said bluntly. "So don't be."
Silence settled over the group. Outside, the first sounds of the waking city filtered through the walls, cart wheels rattling, vendors setting up stalls, the distant clang of a temple bell.
Haru exhaled sharply. "Fine. But if this goes sideways—"
"It won't," the old man interrupted. He straightened, pulling his hood lower. "Move fast. And don't look back."
With that, he slipped out the back door, melting into the alley shadows like smoke.
Ruan turned to Kenshiro and Haru. "I leave within the hour. Be ready."
Kenshiro clapped Haru's shoulder. "Let's go."
The two men moved through the waking city, sticking to side streets and narrow alleys where the morning crowds were thin. The closer they got to the city guard's building, the tighter the knot in Kenshiro's stomach grew.
"You think the old man's really gonna pull this off?" Haru muttered, keeping his voice low.
Kenshiro didn't answer.
Then…
A roar split the air.
The ground trembled. Somewhere to the south, a plume of smoke and dust erupted into the sky, followed by the distant screams of panicked citizens.
Haru's eyes widened. "That's our cue."
The explosion rocked the southern district of Daiyo, sending a shockwave through the city that rattled windows and sent birds screeching into the sky. A pillar of fire and smoke twisted into the dawn, painting the streets in flickering orange light. The distant screams of panicked citizens and the frantic shouts of city guards filled the air.
Kenshiro and Haru didn't have time to marvel at the old man's handiwork.
"Move!" Kenshiro hissed, shoving Haru forward as the first squad of earthbenders sprinted past the mouth of the alley they were hiding in. The guards' boots pounded against the cobblestones, their green-and-brown uniforms a blur as they raced toward the chaos.
Haru pressed himself against the wall, his breath coming fast. "That distraction won't last forever."
"Then we don't waste it," Kenshiro shot back.
They darted into the open, weaving through the thinning crowds of early-morning merchants and laborers who had stopped to gawk at the distant fire. The city guard's building loomed ahead, its stone façade imposing even in the chaos. Normally, the entrance would be swarming with guards, but now—
"It's almost empty," Haru muttered, eyes scanning the two men still posted at the door.
"Almost isn't good enough," Kenshiro said. "We need them gone."
As if on cue, another explosion, closer this time—sent a tremor through the ground. The guards at the door exchanged glances before one barked an order and sprinted off toward the sound, leaving only a single man on duty.
Haru grinned. "Now's our chance."
They slipped around the side of the building, where a narrow delivery entrance stood half-hidden behind stacked crates. Kenshiro reached for the door…
"Stop right there."
A deep voice echoed behind them.
They froze. Slowly, Kenshiro turned to see three of Shen's earthbenders blocking the alley, their hands already raised, fingers curled like claws. The lead man smirked. "Boss Shen said you might come sniffing around."
Haru's hand drifted toward his dagger, but Kenshiro subtly shook his head.
"You've got the wrong guys," Kenshiro said, forcing a laugh. "We're just here for the morning grain delivery."
The earthbender's smirk vanished. "Bullshit." He stomped, and the ground beneath Kenshiro's feet erupted.
Haru yanked him aside just as a jagged pillar of stone speared upward where he'd been standing. "Run!"
They bolted, ducking as another earthbender hurled a chunk of stones at their heads. It shattered against the wall beside them, spraying debris.
"Split up!" Kenshiro barked.
Haru veered left, Kenshiro right. The earthbenders hesitated—then split after them.
Haru sprinted through the marketplace, knocking over baskets of fruit and barrels of salted fish in his wake. Behind him, the earthbender cursed as he slipped on a spilled crate of cabbages.
"You little—!"
Haru didn't wait. He ducked behind a cloth merchant's stall, holding his breath as the guard stormed past.
A hand clamped over his mouth.
Haru nearly stabbed the person before realizing it was Kenshiro, his face streaked with dirt and his eyes wild.
"Quiet," Kenshiro whispered. "They're still looking."
They crouched in silence, listening to the shouts of the earthbenders as they tore through the market.
"Lost them," one growled.
"Boss Shen will skin us alive," another muttered.
"Then we don't tell him."
The footsteps faded.
Haru exhaled. "That was too close."
Kenshiro nodded. "Let's move before they double back."
The guard building's side entrance was unguarded now. The old man's distraction had done its job—most of the force had been pulled away to deal with the explosions.
Kenshiro picked the lock with a hairpin (courtesy of a particularly memorable night with a pickpocket right here in Daiyo), and the door creaked open.
"Dark in here," Haru muttered as they slipped inside.
The halls were eerily quiet, lit only by flickering torches. The occasional shout echoed from deeper within, but the path to the dungeon was clear.
They descended the stairs, the air growing colder with every step.
The dungeon was a pit of shadows and despair, the stench of sweat and blood thick in the air. Chains hung from the walls, and the distant drip of water echoed like a slow-beating heart.
And there, in the farthest cell—
"Yogan!" Haru hissed.
Yogan's head snapped up. His eyes widened. "You're alive."
Mariko, locked in the same cell, surged to her feet. "About damn time!"
Kenshiro fumbled with the keys they'd lifted from a sleeping guard upstairs. "Yeah, yeah, save the gratitude for when we're out of here."
The lock clicked. The cell door groaned open.
Yogan stood, stretching his stiff limbs. "Where's Rilo?"
"Safe," Haru said. "Now let's go before Shen's men—"
A shout echoed from the stairwell.
"Shit." Kenshiro whirled. "They found us."
The dungeon stairs trembled under the weight of approaching boots. Shen emerged from the shadows like a storm given form, his massive frame blocking the flickering torchlight. His scarred face twisted into a sneer as his cold eyes locked onto Kenshiro and Haru.
"I should have known," Shen growled, his voice like grinding stone. "You two were the ones who took Rilo from my dungeon."
Kenshiro and Haru exchanged a glance but didn't correct him. Let him think it was them. No reason to get the old man into trouble too.
"Didn't take long to guess your next rescue would be the airbender," Shen continued, stepping forward. His earthbenders fanned out behind him, their hands already flexing, ready to bend. "I should have captured you that night too. Thought you were just nobodies."
Haru smirked. "Exactly the point."
Shen's jaw tightened. "You will not be leaving this time."
Then—
Yogan stepped in front of them.
The air in the dungeon shifted. A stillness settled over the space, thick and charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. Yogan's posture was relaxed, but his eyes—sharp as a blade's edge—locked onto Shen.
"You will find I will not be so willing this time," Yogan said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of a coming storm.
Shen scoffed. "You're still in chains, monk."
Yogan didn't blink. "You took my friend. Tortured him. Mariko accused me of rape and had me locked up—all to use my family's name for your own ambitions." His hands, loose at his sides, curled slightly. "I had heard Daiyo was a great city to enjoy oneself. And truly, the first night was the most fun I'd had in a long time. The second night was too—until I woke up in chains."
A pause. The dungeon seemed to hold its breath.
"Rilo and I were just passing through. Heading south, toward the Water Tribes." Yogan's voice dropped lower. "Now, I'll show you exactly what I meant yesterday when I said…"
His stance shifted—feet sliding apart, knees bending, arms rising in a motion so fluid it seemed like the wind itself had shaped him.
"…you don't know who you're messing with."
Yogan exhaled, and the world exploded.
A gust of wind, raw and unfiltered, tore through the dungeon like a hurricane given form. The force of it ripped stones from the walls, sent torches snuffing into darkness, and lifted Shen and his men off their feet as if they were leaves in a storm. Shen's eyes widened—just before he was hurled backward, crashing through the dungeon walls in a shower of shattered stone and splintered wood. His earthbenders followed, their bodies ragdolling through the air before disappearing into the dust-choked streets beyond.
The entire building groaned. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ceiling.
Then, silence.
Yogan lowered his hands. Dust settled around him like falling snow. Calmly, he turned to Kenshiro and Haru.
"Where's Rilo?"
Haru blinked, then jerked his head toward the gaping hole in the wall. "Safe. Let's go."
They didn't wait. Kenshiro grabbed Mariko's arm as they sprinted through the rubble, the chaos outside masking their escape. The streets were in pandemonium, people screaming, guards shouting, the distant echo of another explosion (courtesy of the old man) rattling the city.
Haru ducked into an alley, breathing hard. "We have to leave the city. Now."
Mariko hesitated, her eyes flicking between them. Kenshiro noticed and smirked, though there was no warmth in it.
"Keep up, princess," he said. Then, softer: "There's someone you have to meet."
The south-western edge of the city was a graveyard of abandoned buildings and crumbling walls, the last gasp of civilization before the wilderness took over. The river murmured nearby, its waters dark under the fading twilight.
And there, standing motionless in the center of the road, was the figure.
His robes were black as ink, flowing around him like liquid shadow. The wind didn't dare touch them. His face was hidden beneath a deep hood, but the weight of his presence pressed down on the group like a physical force.
At his feet lay two bodies.
One was Rilo, alive, but unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The other was Ruan, the blacksmith, his massive frame limp, his arms still corded with muscle even in death. A dark stain spread across his chest.
Mariko's breath hitched. "Ruan…"
Kenshiro's hand went to his dagger. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled, venom dripping from his words.
Silence stretched. The figure didn't move.
Then…
"That," Mariko said quietly, "is the Big Boss of Daiyo."
Haru barked a disbelieving laugh. "Bullshit. The Big Boss isn't real. He's a story parents use to scare kids."
Kenshiro's grip tightened on his weapon. "Yeah? Then who the fuck is that?"
The figure still didn't speak.
Then…
"Surround them."
The voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, cold and hollow, like wind through a tomb.
And suddenly, they weren't alone.
Shadows detached from the ruins. Men in green and brown tunics, Shen's earthbenders, emerged from the alleys, their faces grim, their hands already curled into bending stances. At their head, Shen himself stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the path back to the city. His scarred face was twisted in triumph.
"Told you, you wouldn't leave," he growled.
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]