The Keiretsu would demand proof. Ash knew that as surely as the sun rose—no shadow of doubt could be cast over the truth of Ryo''s supposed demise. They would want a body, something visceral and tangible, something to satiate their paranoia. Ash had played this game before, but now the stakes were different.


    "Ryo," Ash said in a calm, almost too-casual tone, his dark eyes locking onto Ryo''s trembling form. "You want to live, don''t you?"


    Ryo''s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his eyes wide with terror. He nodded, the words barely escaping his lips. "Y-Yes."


    Ash took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating, a predator closing in on its prey. "Then you''ll offer something. Your arm."


    Ryo''s face drained of color, his mouth went dry as if the words themselves had been poison. "W-What?!"


    Kaito, silent and deadly, moved like a shadow. His blade glinted in the dim light as he stepped toward Ryo, the cold steel of the weapon grazing lightly against Ryo''s shoulder. The threat was unspoken but clear. Kaito''s expression was unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes.


    "DNA testing," Kaito explained, his voice low and efficient. "If we hand over a body burnt beyond recognition, they''ll want proof it''s you. An arm will be enough. They''ll match it with your records—fingerprints, genetic markers. Simple."


    Ryo shook his head, his mind whirling. "No… no, I can''t…"


    But there was no room for negotiation. Kaito''s blade pressed a fraction deeper, and Ryo''s eyes flicked to Ash, silently pleading for mercy, or a way out. There was none. He knew that. His fingers clenched, the cold sweat soaking into his palms.


    Ash stood motionless, his gaze unwavering, as if he were a judge passing a final sentence. "You want to survive, don''t you?" he repeated, each word cutting through Ryo like a knife. "Then you will do this, or your ''death'' will be just the beginning of your suffering."


    Kaito''s blade moved with practiced precision, as if the act of severing Ryo''s arm was merely a formality, a technicality in the grand scheme of things. Ryo''s breath caught in his throat as the pain hit, his scream muffled by the suffocating silence that hung between them.


    With a swift motion, the arm was gone. Ryo collapsed to the floor, the agony momentarily blurring his vision, but he did not faint. He could never afford the luxury of weakness. Not now.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Ash, unflinching, watched the scene unfold. His face remained impassive, as though witnessing the process of erasing a single name from the world''s most dangerous list. "There''s no turning back now," he said softly.


    Kenshiko, ever the mastermind behind the curtain, had already begun orchestrating the deception. She was already on her comms, seamlessly coordinating the procurement of a body. A corpse—one with similar biometrics, someone expendable, someone who would never be missed. The body would be burned beyond recognition, charred to a crisp, erasing every trace of its original identity.


    The plan unfolded with a kind of clinical precision that could only be achieved by someone who had long ago discarded the notion of mercy. Kenshiko''s fingers flew across her terminal, manipulating the dark web, pulling strings, and acquiring what was needed to cover the tracks.


    The final piece of the puzzle came in the form of a slick, black-market medical bag. A makeshift operating table was set up, the arm severed and carefully placed alongside the remains of the fabricated corpse. Kenshiko oversaw the meticulous arrangement, the limb fitting perfectly as the final seal on their lie. The arm would be the key to ensuring that the Keiretsu''s forensic experts would never think twice. They would confirm the genetic match—the fingerprints, the bone structure—all of it would lead back to Ryo. And once the corpse was handed over to the Keiretsu''s people, their investigation would grind to a halt.


    By the time the Keiretsu received their "proof"—the severed arm and the body, burnt beyond recognition—the real Takeda Ryo would have vanished, swallowed whole by the Shirogiri''s underground network. No trace would remain. No hope for retaliation. Only a smear of ash and blood, scattered across the city''s dark corners.


    Ash stepped back, eyes scanning the scene, assessing the risk and the reward. "Done," he muttered under his breath.


    Kaito''s voice broke the silence, low and grim. "And if this doesn''t hold? If they still come looking?"


    Ash''s lip curled into a faint, calculating smile. "Then they''ll find a ghost. A shadow who knows the Keiretsu''s every move, but whose name they''ll never find again."


    Kenshiko''s voice echoed from the comms, efficient and cold. "I''ve locked down the digital trail. Every piece of data, every trace pointing back to Ryo is erased. There is nothing left for them to find."


    Ash turned to face Ryo, who was slumped on the ground, his severed arm still lying in a pool of his own blood. "You''re free now. Or as free as a man can be who''s betrayed everyone he ever trusted."


    Ryo could only nod, his eyes glassy with a mixture of pain and disbelief. "I… I don''t know how to thank you."


    Ash looked down at him with a detached amusement. "Live, Ryo. That''s all the thanks you need to give."


    The game had changed. It had shifted from a straightforward extraction to something far more dangerous. Now, the Keiretsu would have to wonder, endlessly, if they had underestimated Ash Shirogiri. And they would never know the truth: Ryo was no longer their pawn. He was Ash''s—an asset in the growing network that could destroy everything they had built.


    As the team moved quickly to leave the scene, the shadows of the city seemed to grow deeper, swallowing the remnants of Ryo''s life and the Shirogiri''s latest maneuver. The Keiretsu would come looking, no doubt. But by the time they realized they had been played, it would be far too late.