Chapter 325: The Man He Called His Savior

Not far from the arena, Yannis Fenn slowed to a halt when he spotted two figures standing in a dimly lit alley.

He had left the venue early. The fight had done little to hold his interest, and his mind was already burdened with thoughts he could no longer ignore. He had only attended because his godfather had given him a complimentary ticket. It would have been a waste not to use it.

His godfather...Artemio Fuegerro.

For years, Yannis had regarded the man as his savior.

Back when he was still a student, Artemio had supposedly risked his life to rescue him from a group of kidnappers who had hijacked their school bus. Yannis had never forgotten that debt. His gratitude had gradually grown into admiration, and his admiration into unwavering trust.

Until he discovered that the truth was nothing like the story he had been told.

Two months ago, Yannis had treated a patient suffering from severe insomnia. Something about the man’s face seemed familiar, and after looking into his background, Yannis discovered that they had attended the same high school.

The man had been one of the students on that hijacked bus.

Their initial conversation had been casual. Then, as they reminisced about their school days, the man suddenly brightened.

"Do you know how lucky I was? I got to see our savior again when I visited the Royal Mausoleum of the Kromwels in Isla."

Yannis had looked up from his notes.

"Your savior?"

"General Leonard Norse!" The man spoke with unmistakable admiration. "Even though he’s getting old, he still carries himself like an exceptional soldier. That same sharpness, that same dignity. He hasn’t changed much from the man who risked his life to save us."

Yannis had frozen.

General Norse?

The name was wrong.

Shouldn’t it have been General Fuegerro?

"Who did you say saved us?" he had asked, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

"General Leonard Norse. Have you forgotten?"

"Wasn’t it Artemio Fuegerro?"

The man had stared at him as though Yannis had just said something absurd.

"Doctor, how could you mistake the two? Artemio Fuegerro was there, of course, but he didn’t rescue us. He merely escorted us back to headquarters and handled the debriefing."

He paused, his expression darkening as an unpleasant memory resurfaced.

"I was sitting behind the driver, beside the student who got stabbed by that lunatic. I saw everything clearly. I saw who boarded the bus, who subdued the hijackers, and who got injured in the process."

The man fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"But General Norse—he was only a major back then—wasn’t the kind of man who took all the credit for himself. He always attributed the victory to his entire team."

Yannis had listened in stunned silence.

He was seated in the last row of the bus that day, too far away to see the entire confrontation. What he remembered most vividly was the hijacker approaching him first.

The man had despised foreigners, and Yannis’s hair and eye color had immediately drawn his attention.

Yannis had suffered several brutal punches before the lunatic finally left him alone and returned to the front of the bus.

The rest of the rescue had remained a blur.

Now, the missing pieces were falling into place.

It was Leonard Norse who fought the hijacker, knocked the rifle from his back, and disarmed him of his pistol.

Not Artemio Fuegerro.

For the first time in his life, Yannis felt like a complete fool.

He had spent years studying psychology and neuropsychiatry, learning to recognize manipulation, deception, and the subtle mechanisms of the human mind. Yet he had failed to see through a lie that had shaped half of his entire life.

How could he have been so blind?

Then came the more disturbing questions.

What about all those times Artemio had appeared whenever he found himself in trouble? All those timely interventions that had reinforced Yannis’s belief that his godfather was a man who would always protect him?

Had any of those incidents been genuine?

Or had Artemio deliberately orchestrated them, ensuring that Yannis would remain grateful, dependent, and obedient?

The more Yannis thought about it, the colder he became.

Without the illusion of a savior clouding his judgment, he could finally see the truth.

Just like Lara, he had been nothing more than a pawn on Artemio Fuegerro’s chessboard.

And the most humiliating part?

He had willingly placed himself there.

Yannis blinked, drawing himself back to the present.

The figure wearing the black hoodie had turned her head toward him. Even in the dim light, he recognized the familiar features beneath the hood.

As expected.

It was Lara.

She stood beside Ares, the two of them looking almost impossibly well-matched even without saying a word. There was something reassuring about the way Ares remained close to her, his quiet presence suggesting that he had no intention of letting anything happen to her.

Yannis released a deep breath.

Lara was the reason he had accepted Artemio’s invitation to come to Isla in the first place. He had wanted to check on her, but more importantly, he had hoped to find a way to help her escape Artemio’s control.

Now, looking at her standing beside Ares, he wondered if she had already found her own way out.

Despite the dimness, Lara said something to Ares before leaving his side and walking toward him.

She was still dressed entirely in black, the hood of her sweatshirt casting a shadow over her face.

And then it struck him.

The fighter who had faced Rocky in the arena earlier—the mysterious Nemesis who had left the audience stunned—was Lara herself.

A slow smile spread across his face.

So, she had finally gotten her revenge.

And judging by the outcome, Rocky would not be able to do a comeback.

"Doctor Fenn, it’s you."

Lara’s greeting carried a familiar warmth. She still called him Doctor, though there had been a time when she had affectionately addressed him as Brother Yannis.

"Of course it’s me." He chuckled. "You still have sharp eyes. You recognized me from far away."

Lara smiled faintly.

"Your hair gives you away."

Yannis laughed. His gaze lingered on her face, searching for traces of the confused woman he remembered, just a few months back.

But the person standing before him now seemed different. There was a quiet confidence in her eyes, an assurance that had not been there before.

"I watched your fight earlier," he said. "You did well. Congratulations on finally getting the revenge you deserved."

Lara’s smile broadened. She remembered Yannis taking care of her when she was beaten black and blue by Rocky and her mumbling of revenge while in pain.

For a moment, she simply studied him.

Yannis had once been the person who treated her wounds, patiently teaching her how to handle medical instruments and suture injuries. The knowledge he had imparted had stayed with her long after their lives had taken different paths.

He had helped her in ways he might never fully understand.

"Brother Yannis..."

Her voice softened. Yannis looked at her in surprise.

"I remember everything now."