Novel Full Chapter 217: Godfather’s Justice
Chapter 217: Godfather’s Justice
Then… Damian waved his hand, and the three kneeling men were dragged through the air toward him, suspended by telekinesis.
He released the seal on their mouths.
They immediately began begging, words tumbling out desperately.
“Please! We’re sorry! We’ll never–”
“Godfather, mercy! It was the alcohol! We didn’t mean–”
“We’ll do anything! Please don’t–”
Damian said nothing.
He simply waved his hand with cold precision.
And… the men’s limbs began moving.
First slowly, then faster, their arms and legs spreading apart, invisible force pulling them in four directions simultaneously.
Their screams started as the pressure increased, tendons beginning to tear and joints dislocating with wet popping sounds.
“AAAAHHHHH! STOP! PLEASE STOP! OH GOD IT HURTS–”
The skin began tearing, blood vessels rupturing and muscles ripping like wet fabric.
CRACK CRACK CRACK
Bones shattered, fragments piercing through skin and the sound echoing through the hall like gunshots.
“AHHH–”
Then… Blood sprayed in all directions as the bodies were literally torn apart, limbs separating from torsos, the three men’s screams cutting off as their bodies came completely apart.
Splash!
Chunks of meat and bone fell to the floor with wet thuds, blood pooling across expensive tile.
“!!!”
The hall was silent except for the sound of dripping blood.
Hundreds of people stood frozen in horror, their faces pale, some covering their mouths to prevent vomiting.
Edrin and the other students couldn’t reconcile this Damian with the one who was always kind to them, always protecting the Mafia.
’It’s like he’s a completely different person.’
Ariana and Zavier felt the same disconnect, their minds struggling to process this Damian with the one who was just recently joking with them and advising them about life.
The squad leader whose hand had been cut off broke into even colder sweat, realizing he’d been shown mercy by this monster.
’He could have done that to me. Would have, if I’d resisted more.’
Kuro materialized on Damian’s shoulder, absorbing the death energy from the corpses, his black feathers making him look like a demon’s familiar.
Puff
Damian pulled out a cigar with steady hands, lit it, took a long drag, and exhaled smoke slowly.
“All of you should behave from now on. Like good little children. Understood?”
Silence!
Nobody responded, too shocked to process the command.
Damian’s voice became sharp.
“I asked: is that understood or not?”
“YES, GODFATHER!”
The response was immediate and deafening, hundreds of voices shouting in unison, fear and respect mixing into absolute obedience.
The Unnamed Four stood in the back, their expressions complex.
Gregor’s face showed something approaching approval. Vash’s eyes glinted with interest. Yara looked slightly disturbed but impressed. And Castor just nodded slowly.
They’d seen many things in their decades of living as fugitives and fighters. But watching this sixteen-year-old run his organization with such brutal efficiency was… unique.
Damian waved his hand dismissively.
“All of you are dismissed. Old Mike, tomorrow the victims of this incident will come to headquarters. Make sure they’re compensated appropriately and looked after for life. Also… I think I don’t need to say more?”
Mike sighed heavily, his face showing a decade’s worth of aging in one night.
“Yes, sir.”
He led everyone out, the crowd filing through the doors in absolute silence, nobody daring to speak.
Damian told the Mafia students to return to the Academy, and Edrin led them away with backward glances.
Only the Unnamed Four remained.
Damian approached them, his expression softening slightly.
“Sorry you had to see that. But I needed to set an example. Respect alone never gets things done in an organization this size. Fear works better.”
Gregor’s voice was gruff but understanding.
“It happens. Every organization has problems like this. Better to handle it early and brutally than let it fester.”
Vash studied Damian with new appreciation.
“Kid, you really aren’t like other sixteen-year-olds. When you get time, come find me. I’ll teach you some things about fighting bare-handed.”
Damian nodded gratefully.
Then all four of them disappeared, their S-rank speed making the exit instantaneous.
Damian stood alone in the hall, surrounded by blood and body parts, the smell of death heavy in the air.
’This was necessary… Can’t let the organization rot from inside. Sigh… just a few hours ago I was telling Ariana and Zavier that the Mafia was a family… Now this.
Fuck, I’m tired…’
****
[Tranquil City – News Spreads]
What happened that night spread through Tranquil City like wildfire.
By morning, every person from the highest government officials to the poorest street vendors knew the story.
The Godfather had executed his own men for breaking rules and had apologized to a victim. Had shown that nobody – not even Mafia members – was above the law he’d established.
People felt safe in a way they never had before.
Not because violence had been eliminated, but because they knew the violence had rules. Had limits. And had someone in control who would enforce those limits without mercy.
The widow and her daughter came to headquarters the next day, were given a house, financial support, and a job that would sustain them forever.
The squad leader whose hand was cut off became the most disciplined enforcer in the organization, using his injury as a constant reminder that rules mattered.
And every Mafia member understood completely: the Godfather was not their friend when they fucked up.
He was their judge, jury, and executioner.
And his justice was absolute.
****
[Stormhold Academy – Campus Grounds – Afternoon]
The Academy had transformed in the week following Damian’s revolutionary changes.
Everywhere you looked, students were practicing.
A group of third-year commoners worked through advanced sword techniques in the training yard, their movements showing they’d finally accessed weapon arts that had been locked away for years.
Two first-year Nobles with A-rank talents practiced beside commoner students, all of them learning the same defensive skill together, the hierarchical barriers dissolved.
A professor – one who’d previously claimed he had “no time” for teaching – was actively demonstrating a weapon art to fifteen students gathered around him, his voice patient as he corrected their forms.
The library was packed with students reading through old weapon art manuscripts, taking notes and discussing which techniques suited their fighting styles.
For the first time in decades, Stormhold Academy actually felt like an academy rather than a political recruitment center.
****
[Academy Rooftop – Headmaster’s Observation Point]
Headmaster Kaiser stood at the edge of the tallest building on campus, his long white beard and hair flowing in the wind, both tied in traditional warrior knots that spoke to decades of discipline.
His face was completely absent of age lines despite his two centuries of life – the result of SS rank vitality and careful Aura maintenance. His body remained muscular and powerful, showing his immense strength.
He watched the sunset paint the campus in golden light, his expression unreadable.
Two figures appeared beside him – Seraphina and Elizabeth, both arriving with speed that made the transition instantaneous.
“…”
They stood in respectful silence, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence.
Finally, Elizabeth spoke, her voice carrying concern.
“Headmaster… should we really allow students to enter the forest and fight beasts? The danger is significant, especially for first-years.”
Kaiser didn’t turn around, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the Academy forest began.
“You know… that boy has been forcing his own organization members to enter the forest daily for the past few days. Training them against actual beasts.”
His voice was calm, contemplative.
“If any student comes close to dying, he intervenes and saves them. But only when they’ve faced death directly. Only when they’ve looked into the abyss and felt their mortality.”