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Chapter 22: Hey, Can We Reconcile? (BONUS CHAPTER )
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 13:14:18 +0000 UTCAs the vampire card disintegrated into a fading mist, the cockscomb-haired man stumbled back, face contorting in disbelief and panic.
"Impossible!" he shrieked. "Why the hell didn't your card die?!"
He stared, trembling, at Kaneki, who stood unscathed—his kagune curling behind him like blood-soaked centipede tendrils. The man had foolishly believed that a bronze-level blue card would win him the fight.
What he didn't know—couldn't have known—was that Kaneki was no ordinary Black Iron-level summon.
He was red-quality.
And worse, he possessed the terrifying ability: [High-Speed Regeneration].
His body could recover faster than the enemy could hurt him.
"You're not supposed to be this strong…" the man muttered, taking a desperate step back. "This... this isn't fair!"
Panic turned to madness as he summoned every card he still had—low-tier Black Iron summons he'd crafted in high school. A swarm of shadow bats, a bone-armored zombie, even a reinforced ghoul.
They all rushed Kaneki at once.
But Kaneki didn't move. Not at first.
Then came the blur.
With a sickening snap, one kagune spear shot through the air and impaled the bone zombie through the chest, pinning it to the wall like a trophy.
Another kagune burst outward, shredding through the bats mid-flight, turning them into black confetti.
The third kagune wrapped around the ghoul's neck—and twisted.
Crack.
The head hit the floor before the body did.
"P-please… stop…"
The cockscomb-haired man collapsed onto his knees, shaking like a leaf. His pants were soaked.
"I surrender!" he cried, throwing his card deck aside. "Please! Don't kill me! I—I have information! Valuable stuff! About the Spirit Begging Society! Just let me live!"
Kaneki turned his head, crimson eyes glowing beneath his white hair, and glanced back at Russell.
Russell met his summon's gaze for a moment—then shook his head.
Kaneki's expression didn't change.
The next moment was pure horror.
With a low snarl, Kaneki surged forward, kagune moving like snakes. One coiled around the man's leg, jerking him off the ground. The others skewered through his shoulders, pinning him midair like a crucified rag doll.
"NO—PLEASE—AAARGH—!"
Kaneki didn't give him the luxury of a clean death. The kagune split apart inside the man's body, reducing him to shredded meat. Bones cracked like twigs. Organs splattered. Blood soaked the concrete.
By the time the scream stopped, there was nothing left but pulp.
Russell looked on, his expression emotionless.
Information? Please. That guy had clearly been a low-tier pawn in the Spirit Begging Society. He wasn't risking his safety on the off-chance the bastard had something worthwhile.
Besides—Auntie May was still lying unconscious in the stairwell, her fate unknown.
That was more important.
Behind him, Darren had already collapsed, paralyzed by terror. He hadn't expected the arrogant thug to die so… easily. So completely.
His body was trembling uncontrollably. His mouth opened, but no words came out at first.
Finally, he stammered, "R-Russell… please… I—I won't ever try anything again. I swear it!"
Russell looked at him, eyes cold and devoid of pity.
"You're not sorry. You're just scared of dying."
Darren's face twisted in panic. "You… you can't kill me! Murder is illegal, Russell!"
At that, Russell actually laughed.
"Murder is illegal? That's rich—coming from the guy who helped ambush me in the Devil's Nest. Did you care about the law when you watched people die in that space? When you helped cover it up?"
Darren paled, unable to speak.
Russell gestured lazily. "Kaneki. Take care of it."
"No—NO! Wait—!"
Darren's screams echoed as Kaneki moved in. There was a flash of movement—a slice—and silence.
Russell didn't look back.
He had more pressing matters now.
Staying here and waiting for the Guild was technically the right thing to do—but it would also mean being detained for questioning. Maybe even suspicion of unauthorized card use. Red-quality summons weren't exactly common for someone his rank.
He couldn't afford the delay.
He needed power—more power than ever.
Bronze-level cards. Silver-tier. Even palace-rank.
Anything less would never be enough.
Shaking off the blood and chaos, Russell pulled out his phone and scanned his contacts.
First: Mr. Williams. Kind-hearted, yes—but powerless in matters involving the Spirit Begging Society.
Next: Victoria Song. She was his current homeroom teacher. Smart, decent connections… Maybe.
Then: President Marcus. He had given Russell his number after the interview. A high-ranking figure in the Guild—but right now, Russell didn't trust anyone with ties to the organization. Not after what just happened.
If the Spirit Begging Society had already infiltrated the Guild, reaching out to the wrong person could be fatal.
He continued down the list—until he stopped on one name.
Nancy.
Russell dialed.
A moment later, a sharp, confident voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Russell. Is your father home?
About ten minutes later, a sleek, black sports car pulled up in front of Harmony Heights.
A sharp-eyed, clean-cut man with gold-rimmed glasses stepped out.
The car dissolved into particles of light and returned to a summon mark on his forehead.
Russell stepped forward as the man approached.
"You must be Russell," the man said. "I'm Jonathan Westbrook. Nancy's father. You can call me Uncle Jon."
That's why Russell had called.
Nancy had trusted him with the truth about Darren's crimes. And if she was a victim of the Spirit Begging Society's conspiracy, there was no way her father was one of them.
Unless, of course, he was willing to use his own daughter as bait.
And if that was the case?
Russell would accept defeat.
"Uncle Jon," he greeted respectfully, "thank you for coming. Nancy should've told you the details."
Jonathan nodded, then frowned slightly. "She did. But you said you defeated a Bronze-tier cardmaker from the Spirit Begging Society?"
He gave Russell a probing look. "Can I see the card you used?"
Russell understood the suspicion. If their roles were reversed, he'd have asked the same.
With a snap of his fingers, Kaneki materialized beside him—blood-red eyes glowing, claws still slick with gore, his centipede kagune twitching like it was still hungry.
Jonathan's pupils narrowed.
He could feel the oppressive aura emanating from the summon.
"Gold?" he muttered. "No… stronger. This is Red-quality, isn't it?"
As a Gold-tier cardmaker, Jonathan could estimate the true quality of a summon at a glance.
Now it all made sense.
"This is the material Nan brought to you yesterday?" he asked. "You crafted it this quickly?"
Russell nodded.
Jonathan stared at him in silence, then smiled with genuine admiration. "Impressive. You're really something, Russell."
A quiet pride crept into his voice, though he quickly hid it.
Russell's terrifying potential reminded him of someone.
A cardmaker who'd once defined an entire generation: Elias Grant, the only living Hall of Fame cardmaker.
But Jonathan shook off the comparison. It was ridiculous. The kid in front of him was still just an Iron-tier crafter.
Still…
He turned serious. "Listen carefully. When the Guild arrives, I'll say I was the one who eliminated that Spirit Begging Society scum—and Darren."
Russell blinked. "But… why?"
Jonathan gave a tired smile.
"To protect you," he said simply. "And… to buy you time."
