Chapter 307: Remember Who Your Masters Are

The silence that followed was unbearable.

The air stank of blood, bile, and burned nerves.

Two corpses lay behind Mika—one disemboweled like a slaughtered pig, the other collapsed beneath him, strangled lifeless with entrails still looped tight around his throat, his expensive dress soaked red.

And Mika stood motionless between them. The blood on his hands was beginning to dry in patches.

And then like someone finishing a bit of casual yardwork and wondering who else needed help, his gaze passed over the remaining bodyguards, one by one.

Each man stiffened.

One of them,a younger man, barely older than Ravis had been made a soft noise in his throat. He trembled. His legs gave out slightly.

And then...a dark patch spread down the front of his pants. The liquid patted against the floor beneath him.

He’d pissed himself.

But none of the others laughed. Not a single one.

Because every one of them was staring into death.

They were certain—certain—they were next.

That whatever dark force Mika had channeled into the boy and his father was now going to turn on them.

Maybe their heads would be torn off next.

Maybe they’d be bound and flayed and tossed from the platform one by one.

Not a man among them dared move and wished they had escaped earlier.

Then Mika spoke.

"Don’t worry."

It wasn’t reassuring. But it was something.

"I’m not going to do anything to you."

No one moved.

"I know you were just brought along with this idiot. You didn’t make any of the decisions. You’re just...doing your duty."

His tone was dry. That same dangerous calm that had never once broken since this entire ordeal began.

"And I’ve already got enough blood on me for today."

Mika said, looking briefly down at the red soaking his fingers before glancing back up.

"So, you can go free."

For a moment, nobody responded.

Then—slowly—relief.

Pure, overwhelming relief flooded through the group like light after a blackout.

The piss-soaked guard looked like he might cry.

Another visibly sagged, knees wobbling under the tension that had finally released.

One of them whispered "Oh thank god" under his breath and clutched his own face, almost laughing in disbelief.

In that moment, if Mika had told them to strip and dance, they would’ve.

If someone had dropped a resignation letter onto their tablet right now, they would’ve signed it and walked straight into the sky.

But Mika wasn’t quite done.

He gestured slightly to the two bodies—Ravis and his father, twisted and soaked in gore.

"Of course." Mika continued. "Before you go, take these two with you."

A beat passed.

"You’re going to deliver them to the Federation."

Elgorn stared at him.

"And when you deliver them." Mika said. "Tell them this is a message."

They said nothing.

"From the Battle Angels." He said. "Tell them not to act out of turn again. Tell them to remember who rules this world."

His tone sharpened like glass.

"Tell them to act accordingly...or else."

The words weren’t shouted.

They were spoken like gospel.

And somehow that made it worse.

Elgorn could hardly swallow.

He gave a jerky nod.

"Yes." He croaked. "Yes, sir. I’ll do as you say."

Then, stumbling as he turned, he faced Yelena. His voice cracked again.

"Ma’am—Lady Yelena—I...I’m sorry for the disturbance. I promise this won’t happen again."

He then turned and barked to the rest.

"MOVE—NOW!"

The air beneath the platform shimmered.

Then, in a shrieking blast of ether and jet propulsion, the transport platform they were standing on.launched backward with a sonic boom, accelerating away at maximum velocity.

It fled into the sky like a shuttle escaping from hell.

But right now, strangely, it wasn’t just those men on the flying platform who were panicking.

The moment Chief Elgorn had uttered Yelena’s name—

That was when Mika started panicking too.

All the darkness that had radiated around him—the creeping, suffocating presence that had spilled like tar into the air, sputtered out like a candle wick doused in cold water.

Just like that, it vanished. And what remained standing in the aftermath of the horror was not a vengeful godling, not a wrath-fueled executioner.

Just...Mika.

And in that moment, a very human, very real expression spread across his face.

Panic.

"Oh...shit." He muttered under his breath.

He’d forgotten.

Yelena.

Charlotte.

They’d been standing behind him this whole time and they witnessed everything which was the last thing he wanted.

But he just couldn’t help it.

The situation forced him to act out

Just a moment ago, he had been this close, so close to finally having a moment alone with Yelena.

The build-up had been slow, simmering; her walls had been coming down, her words softening, her presence loosening.

He’d been right at the peak, about to reach for something he’d longed for far too long.

And then?

That bastard Ravis. That idiot.

That walking trash heap had stomped into his domain like it was nothing, chasing Charlotte like she was prey, threatening their peace, barging into his home as if it were some public facility.

And Mika had snapped.

He didn’t even remember the moment his mind flipped. All he knew was that suddenly he wasn’t thinking anymore—he was acting.

There was no restraint. No calculation. Just pure reaction. He’d never done something so openly, so...publicly, with no veil of discretion in so long.

And now—now Yelena had seen it all.

He closed his eyes for a second, inhaling through his nose. He had to salvage this.

With a snap of his fingers, the blood stains on his clothes and hands evaporated into nothing. His appearance returned to its calm, clean state, as though nothing had happened at all.

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward the two angels—half hoping they hadn’t seen much.

But the sight he saw made him stop in place.

Yelena was there. Floating gracefully just a few feet away from him. But what struck him immediately wasn’t her face.

It was what she was doing.

She was holding Charlotte.

More specifically—she had one hand tightly clasped over Charlotte’s face, covering her daughter’s eyes.

"Mama!" Charlotte was whining, squirming in her grip. "I can’t see! What’s happening? What’s going on? What’s Mika doing? Mamaaa—"

Her small hands tugged at Yelena’s wrist, trying to pull her fingers away, but Yelena didn’t budge. Her hold was firm. Unyielding.

Mika let out a quiet exhale of relief, the tension slipping off his shoulders like a weighted strap falling away.

One disaster averted.

Charlotte had seen nothing.

But as his eyes traveled upward—locking with Yelena’s face—his breath caught again.

Because what he saw wasn’t what he expected at all.

Yelena wasn’t angry. Or hurt. Or even shocked. There was no judgment in her gaze. No disappointment. Not even confusion.

She was just...staring.

At him.

Eyes wide. Slightly dazed. Her expression unguarded. Dreamy, almost.

And behind that daze, behind the subtle parting of her lips and the gentle narrowing of her eyes, there was something else—

Lust.

Not crude. Not ravenous. Something quieter. Deeper. More intoxicating.

Adoration.

Mika’s brows drew together slowly. His mouth opened, just slightly.

"Yelena...?"

He tilted his head.

"Are you alright?"

His voice came out softer than intended. Concern laced every syllable, though confusion was writ clear across his face.

Yelena blinked slowly.

"I’m fine." She said, her voice low, breathy. "Completely fine."

She kept her hand over Charlotte’s face, even as the girl continued to wriggle. But her eyes remained fixed only on Mika.

"There’s nothing to worry about." She added.

Mika stepped forward slightly, unsure. "You’re...not angry?"

"Angry?" Yelena tilted her head to the side slightly, her hair swaying with the motion.

"No." She said.

He frowned deeper. "Not even a little bit? I mean—I acted out. Brutally. Openly. Right in front of you. I...snapped. Are you really okay with that?"

"You were attacked." Yelena said, her tone still dreamy. "They barged into your home. Threatened your peace. Threatened Charlotte."

Her fingers tightened slightly over her daughter’s face.

"They attacked. You retaliated. That’s all."

She gave the faintest smile.

"There’s nothing wrong with what you did."

Mika stared at her, expression unreadable. He didn’t understand.

Was she under some spell? Was she truly saying this, or—

But no. He searched her eyes. There was no illusion. No enchantment. No manipulation.

It was all her.

And she meant every word.

Slowly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"...If you say so."

He looked away briefly, back toward the blood-tainted air.

"Well then." He said. "If it’s really like that, there’s no need to stress about it anymore. Let’s just treat it as the nuisance it was and go back home."

He took a breath and floated downward, descending toward the courtyard of their home.

"Wait!" Charlotte who was finally released called out behind him. "Mika! What happened? What happened? I didn’t see anything! Tell me what happened!"

He didn’t respond and just kept floating downward.

But Charlotte wasn’t finished.

She dashed after him, her voice rising.

"Mika, come on! I want to know! Please! Please just tell me what happened!"

She clutched at the edge of his shirt as he landed.

"What were you doing up there? What happened to the rude guy who came in? Mikaaaa—"

Still, Mika said nothing. He kept walking forward, back into the house, letting her chase after him with relentless curiosity.

But up above, Yelena didn’t move.

She remained there, suspended high in the air, the wind catching strands of her long hair, her arms slowly lowering as Charlotte left her embrace.

And her thoughts—

They weren’t calm.

They weren’t composed.

They were swirling.

A slow-burning heat deep inside her chest.

A pulse she hadn’t even felt.

Her fingers curled slightly. Her lips parted again. Her heart was pounding in a slow, steady rhythm, and the image of Mika, blood-drenched, merciless, and unflinching, refused to fade from her mind.

It repeated. Over and over and was slowly changing her as a person and how she viewed Mika.