Reborn with A Simulation Coin!

"What?"

The single word echoed, a hushed murmur cutting through the silence like a blade. Heads turned, eyes widening, and the room collectively froze. There, stepping out from the shadows, was Harry; a figure who seemed to draw all light and warmth from the room, leaving only a chilling presence in his wake.

Jack's face contorted, surprise mingling with disbelief as he looked at the man he had never expected to see again, certainly not like this. "Harry… You…" His voice trembled, caught somewhere between fear and shock.

"Surprised, are we?" Harry replied, his voice eerily calm, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You came to me during the day, so it's only fair I return the favor at night, isn't it?"

Jack swallowed hard. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I thought you knew," Harry's tone was almost mocking, a glint of menace in his eyes. "Wasn't it you who said you'd like to see me chopped into minced meat and fed to the dogs? Well…" He paused, lifting a long, gleaming blade, its edge slick and red. Blood dripped from its point, leaving a trail across the floor. The blood of the big dog that had attacked him just moments before. "Come now. Let's see if you still have the stomach for it."

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable. Jack and his group stood rooted, watching as Harry advanced, a force as unstoppable as he was unpredictable. The tension in the room was tangible, suffocating. Yet Jack and his companions made no move, frozen in place by the weight of their own fear.

Harry sighed, almost disappointed. "Nothing to say? No last words?" He shook his head, shrugging, before tightening his grip on the blade and stepping forward, his movements measured and calm.

"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" A middle-aged man, Jack's father, finally broke the silence. His hands shook as he lifted a knife of his own, his voice a quivering attempt at authority. "This… this is private property, protected by federal law. You… you leave here now, or—"

Harry stopped, arching a brow as if mildly amused. But before he could respond, the man took his chance. With a roar of desperation, he lunged forward, his knife aimed straight at Harry's chest.

The clash of metal rang out, loud and piercing. The man's knife flew from his hands, skittering across the floor, and he staggered back, his eyes wide with horror. Before he could process what had happened, Harry closed the distance, his blade swift and merciless. In one clean, chilling stroke, the man's life was ended, his body crumpling to the floor.

A scream ripped through the air, sharp and visceral. The women in the room shrieked, their faces pale with terror as they backed away, hands covering their mouths. But it was a futile escape; before they could even think to flee, small, deadly blades soared through the air, piercing their backs with deadly accuracy. The screams cut off as abruptly as they had started, leaving an unnerving silence.

Jack watched, horror and rage twisting his expression as his friends, his family; fell one by one, their lives snuffed out in an instant. "No! Father! Mother!" His voice cracked, a guttural roar of grief and fury. In a blind rage, he seized a knife and charged, his face contorted with a hatred that left no room for fear.

But Harry barely glanced at him, eyes cold and detached. Jack's movements were clumsy, his rage rendering him reckless, and to Harry, he was nothing more than an angry child throwing a tantrum. With a disinterested flick of his leg, Harry kicked Jack aside, sending him sprawling to the floor with a force that knocked the wind from his lungs. Jack lay there, gasping, struggling to move, but every effort was futile.

"Wait…" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper, desperation replacing the anger in his eyes.

Harry's smile was thin and cold, a look of amusement mingled with contempt gleaming in his eyes. "Out of everyone, I think it's best for you and your brother to stick around until the end," he said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. He paused, letting his gaze linger on Jack, savoring the moment as if it were some fine delicacy.

"I really enjoyed that arrogant look you had earlier," he continued, his tone casual but laced with malice. "So I'm hoping you'll keep that same look when you watch your family members die one by one... all because of you."

Harry's voice dropped to a murmur, dangerously soft. "This is going to be... very interesting."

"You!" Jack's voice was a furious snarl, and he tried to push himself up, rage blazing in his eyes. But his body betrayed him. Every muscle screamed in pain from the earlier beating, and his limbs felt like dead weight. The memory of Harry's brutal blows still echoed through his bruised body, and now, he could barely keep himself propped up on his hands, let alone stand or fight back.

Helpless, Jack watched as Harry advanced toward his grandfather, an elderly man covered in faded tattoos that told stories of his past. Without a flicker of hesitation, Harry's blade sliced through the air, and Jack's heart stopped as he saw the life drain from his grandfather's eyes.

"Grandfather!" Jack's scream was raw, ripped from his chest. Fury and grief burned hot in his gaze, an inferno of rage. "You... devil! How dare you attack an old man!"

Harry tilted his head, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Old man?" he sneered. "Your grandfather was far from an innocent. He's not the frail elder you want to believe he is." He stepped over the body and struck down another man with the same indifferent swipe, as if lives were nothing more than weeds to be plucked.

"I looked into your family before I came here," Harry said nonchalantly, his voice carrying a dark amusement. "Surprisingly spotless on the outside, but dig a little deeper, and the rot shows. Your father, a Brotherhood member with blood on his hands. And your grandfather..." he gestured with a mocking flourish at the fallen man, "he's no saint either. He did plenty of terrible things in his time."

Harry's eyes glinted as he leaned down toward Jack, his smile sharpening. "Let's be real, Jack; your family has profited from the suffering of others. The very house you live in now? That was someone else's, wasn't it? Taken over by force, with every last person in the family silenced so they couldn't fight back."

The words hit Jack like a slap, and he wanted to hurl insults, fight back, deny it all, but the truth in Harry's words stung more than any accusation could.

"And let's not pretend you're any better, Jack." Harry stepped closer, his shadow looming over him as he knelt down, pressing a boot into Jack's chest with brutal force.

Bang!

The pressure was overwhelming, almost enough to make Jack black out. Blood spurted from the fresh wound in his side, painting the floor beneath him red, and pain shot through his body like wildfire.

"That's what you did to her, wasn't it?" Harry's voice was laced with a terrible curiosity. "The girl from last year? I heard what happened. After you and your friends had your fun, you forced her to jump into the river, didn't you?"

Jack's vision blurred, blood staining everything in shades of red. Fear clawed its way up his throat, strangling his voice. He could barely open his mouth, barely hold Harry's gaze as the horror of his situation dawned on him fully. This wasn't just another fight, another rival gang member looking for revenge. The man before him was beyond anything he'd encountered; a remorseless, calculating executioner who didn't hesitate, didn't second-guess, who had come to dismantle his world piece by piece.

A voice screamed in his head. You're going to die. This man will kill you.

Jack tried to speak, to beg, to offer anything in exchange for mercy, but no sound escaped his lips. He was paralyzed, staring into the abyss that was Harry's cold, merciless gaze.

Beside him, his younger brother collapsed in a shuddering heap, his face pale with terror. He'd wet himself, his body betraying the utter fear that gripped him. Unlike Jack, he hadn't crossed as many lines, hadn't dirtied his hands with blood. He was a follower, someone who had participated but never led, never bore the same weight of guilt.

But that didn't matter now. As the night wore on, Harry's blade would cut through every one of them, their entire family marked for death, all for sins past and present.

By morning, their legacy would be nothing more than a blood-soaked memory.

Footsteps echoed softly in the distance, a sound light and almost innocent. Harry turned, curiosity piqued, and was taken aback to see a small boy, perhaps six or seven years old, stepping tentatively into the scene. His cherubic face, framed by tousled hair, was a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.

The boy had come running, drawn by the commotion, but his wide, innocent eyes went wide with shock as he took in the grim tableau before him. Before he could comprehend the danger, Harry swiftly closed the distance, grabbing the child and pulling him forward to stand between Jack and the lifeless form of the other man.

"This must be your youngest brother," Harry remarked with an unsettling calm, a twisted smile creeping across his face. "He's quite adorable."

"No, no!" Jack's voice rose in desperation, his eyes wide with horror as he looked at his little brother. The pleading gaze of a protective older brother was unmistakable.

"Do you want him to live?" Harry asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Jack's heart raced. "Please," he gasped, desperation lacing his words. "The child is innocent."

"Then kneel and beg," Harry replied, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "When asking for mercy, shouldn't you show some humility?"

For a moment, Jack hesitated, torn between his instincts to protect his brother and the brutal reality of their situation. "Please," he finally whispered, the weight of the plea hanging heavy in the air. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

But before Jack could utter another word, Harry's knife flashed like lightning. In an instant, the blade pierced the boy's chest, pinning him to the floor. The little body went still, eyes wide with shock, and Jack's heart shattered in that moment.

"Sorry, time's up," Harry said, his voice disturbingly nonchalant. He turned to Jack, observing him with a cruel curiosity. "By the way, what were you going to say just now?"

Jack was frozen, the horror of what had just happened settling over him like a suffocating shroud. His mind raced, but he couldn't grasp any coherent thought. All he could see was the still form of his brother on the ground, his own heart beating wildly in his chest as the reality of the day's events crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Earlier, he had thought he was just helping his brother deal with an ordinary student, never anticipating that it would spiral into this nightmare. If he had known how dangerous Harry was, he would have steered clear, would have done anything to avoid provoking someone so merciless. People like Harry should have been avoided at all costs.

As confusion morphed into a strange, eerie calm, Jack felt an overwhelming emptiness. In front of him, Harry made a quick, decisive motion, and the heads of Jack and the other man fell silently to the floor, thudding softly against the ground.

After a moment of grim satisfaction, Harry stepped outside, the air around him charged with purpose. A flicker of flames ignited as he poured kerosene around the house, the fire roaring to life as it consumed everything in its path. It wouldn't take long for the blaze to destroy the evidence, leaving nothing but ash and ruin behind.