Familia's Crushing Victory

The air was thick with explosions, screams, and everyone's shouts roaring around us. This place was a bona fide battlefield.

"Eat this, you bastard!"

"You too—have plenty."

I rammed a Tommy gun into the chest of the guy charging at me to pin me with arrows—one that could fire dozens of rounds per second.

'That damn bastard killed Hyun-jong!'

'Keep shooting! Don't let 'em do anything else!'

The enemies who'd spread out wide to surround me were forced to scatter amid the nonstop explosions and flying containers.

Meanwhile, the freshmen we'd thrown in just to pad our numbers were dropping out one by one.

It was pure chaos—a total melee.

They seemed to be scrambling to gather their club members now, but I'd already taken out two, including the one just now. Factoring in the ones my other members had handled, we'd probably retired at least six.

But maybe because I was still the only one exposed, they kept coming at me relentlessly.

Arrows and daggers flying from all directions. I dodged frantically between the containers, but I couldn't keep running forever.

Especially since Youngje's mana was starting to run low—the explosions were slowing down.

Ten minutes into the match, and he'd been spamming explosion magic, the most mana-intensive spells. The fact that he'd held out this long was a miracle.

"Die, you bastard!"

A Ranger appeared from above and hurled something at me. I twisted away, and green smoke billowed up with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foul stench.

"He's hit by poison!"

So that's what it was—poison. Looking closer, I noticed they'd all put on masks at some point.

Who brings poison to a total war? Classic Ranger Club move.

Whatever. Useless against me.

Still, the smoke was blocking my view, so I kicked off the ground and leaped up. There was the guy who'd thrown the poison bomb at me.

"H-How? Just the smell should've paralyzed you!"

His mask hid his face, but his wide eyes showed shock.

"Tasted bitter, that's for sure."

I landed right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on him, grabbed his face, and slammed him into a container.

His skull cracked against the metal with a sharp crang!—echoing through Incheon Port.

At the same time, thicker red aura billowed out. Glancing around, I saw more Rangers rushing over, probably to celebrate my "poisoning."

"What, surprised I'm still kicking?"

Yeah, if you're gonna use poison, make it one that pierces Immunity to All Poisons. Fat chance for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a bronze-tier club like theirs, though.

I raised the Tommy in my left hand to sweep the gathering foes—when a whistling wind sliced from behind.

They were shooting arrows to keep me pinned.

Pulling the trigger now would get me hit. I ducked to dodge—my hair grazed by the wind.

"Too slow."

Grinning, I fired into the air instead of dodging. Like sweeping bug corpses, the bullets mowed them down—most crumpled or hid behind containers.

No pain in my back. The guy behind me had swatted the arrow away.

"Boss. Miss me?"

Jinwoo smirked with that annoying voice of his.

"How many'd you get?"

"Me? Four of those white-nameplate punks, like ours."

"...Not slacking, then."

"As if I'd show up for total war to play around."

Over the past four days of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠training, Jinwoo had changed the most.

'I'm training with my old man.'

Ahead of this make-or-break club match, he'd stuck around the club room till the end every day—said he hated going home. Then suddenly, he dropped that on us.

Everyone knew he was the son of the Bivalt Family boss, so it didn't take long to get it: he was training with his dad, Calione's legendary hitman, Antonio Bivalt.

When we asked why the sudden idea, he shrugged it off.

'My ability's a bloodline power from Dad. Feels like I can't grow it here anymore. Sparring with you, Boss, made me realize a lot... So I asked the old man to train me, and he said sure, no problem.'

That's when it clicked. Antonio must've figured out who I was. Probably from the executive screening. But from Jinwoo's reaction, he hadn't spilled my identity.

A show of respect, maybe. Or just messing with Jinwoo.

Either way, training his bloodline under Antonio turned Jinwoo from a simple assassin into a full frontline beast—faster than I'd imagined.

"Boss. I got the rear?"

"Don't get blinded by a stray arrow and pass out."

"Pfft."

Arrows rained from all sides—but they lost power midair, like hitting an invisible wall, and clattered to the ground.

The Rangers panicked. We didn't miss the opening, charging our nearest foes.

"Draw daggers, everyone!"

One smart one realized arrows weren't working and barked the order. They pulled blades for close quarters.

But come on—archers losing to us in melee?

I stored the Tommy in my cube mid-charge and punched one's face.

"Argh!"

He raised his dagger to block. A normal fist would've split—but I wore relic-grade gloves. I crushed his blade and face together.

With no rear harassment, I could move freely. Fighting multiples solo sucked.

Glanced back.

"You—the punk I sparred with. Perfect."

"You crazy bastard!"

"Knew I was crazy and still mouthed off? Die!"

...No worries there.

His new ability to block ranged attacks turned him into a living nightmare for the Rangers.

No danger for him in this total war.

Oh, right.

"Some use poison bombs. If they toss anything, whip up wind and blow the smoke away first."

"Huh? That green stuff was poison fog? Thanks."

Jinwoo nodded, shaking an unconscious guy's collar.

"Die!"

One popped from below, bow drawn. But he'd seen his buddies crushed—his fear gave him away early. I snatched his arrow mid-flight, spun, and stabbed it into his chest.

"About eight left."

That number meant Youngje and Sea-a could show—no need to hide.

"Seven. Got one more just now."

They emerged from a container.

"Positions?"

"One on the tower crane, two below, three nearby on standby, rest... eyeing us here. Kwon Su-hyeop's probably..."

Sea-a pointed at the crane and stretched out her hand.

"...You got this?"

I could guess her plan. She clenched her fist confidently.

"Of course—this is what we trained for."

Then it happened.

From the last match, she'd hacked the field to reshape terrain—with Ji Suhyun's mana boost, but discovering spatial interference was huge. She'd honed that sensation.

The result?

"Gotcha."

──────!!!

The tower crane with the guy on it lurched toward us.

Shrinking Earth—not scrambling the field, but folding space to shorten distance. Her original spatial spell.

The Rangers watching us gaped in horror at the reality-warping sight.

"Youngje. Blow it."

"Today I really feel like a terrorist..."

Youngje aimed his fountain pen.

"Brillante." (Brilliantly.)

The crane's top exploded. A black silhouette leaped out.

"You crazy bastards!"

Club prez or not, he wrapped himself in mana to tank the blast and loosed an arrow at me—but

"Trying to snipe our prez with that? Dream on."

Jinwoo blocked it effortlessly.

The guy landed amid his members and yelled at us.

"They're exhausted from burning mana early! We're fresh—we got the edge!"

Ah, so that's why he'd hidden? Used freshmen and scrubs as fodder to tire us, then strike?

"Kuh...! Haha! Unreal. You were seriously saving strength for that?"

I burst out laughing. Couldn't help it.

If they'd held back for such a dumb reason, they must be pumped right now. 'We can win!'

I unleashed my suppressed Bloodline: Calione.

Crimson aura flooded the area instantly.

"Sorry, but no."

It spread like blood soaking paper—diffusing, then surging back in a rush, dominating the space.

"You weren't the only ones holding back."

I'd pondered this before. What's the essence of Bloodline: Calione?

In the game, Vito Calione infused his gear with aura for extra power. The description:

He alone blocked a dungeon monster flood. Armed with one rusty knuckle. With it, he protected his people—his Famiglia.

They said Vito Calione's hands were red with blood.

They said it was monster blood.

They said it was Vito Calione's blood.

That red became the Calione symbol.

In this world, symbols mean power.

Like how a legend's tool becomes a relic.

Like how a legend's tale becomes myth.

I carry Vito Calione's history.

His blood.

His power.

I am the symbol of Calione.

My bloodline inherits Father's myth.

The black gloves turned blood-red, morphing into crimson knuckles.

"...W-What the hell is that? What are you... trying to do?!"

Kwon Su-hyeop's crew had fled in terror halfway through. Only one legless rookie left.

"Nothing."

Just raising my fist to protect the family.

They'd call this Familia's victory.