The Hero Returns with his Yandere Wife-Chapter 46 - 45

Skullrend’s red eye flared, his metal jaw clicking with a sharp, mechanical snap as he bellowed once more, "What’s so damn funny, you little shits?!"

His voice thundered across the docks, raw and furious, rattling in the chests of those who heard it.

The heroes around them stiffened, cursing inwardly. Why are Ryn and Mira acting so cocky?

They knew Skullrend—knew the type of man he was. Playing games with him meant baiting a monster, and the bastard loved nothing more than making an example out of fools who dared to mock him.

But Ryn and Mira didn’t flinch. Instead, they stood so confident that a few of the villains who saw their confidence started doubting about their odds of winning this fight.

Skullrend’s lips curled into a vicious sneer. His mind painted the scene before him, savoring it.

First, he’d rip that cocky little bastard with black hair, apart, limb by limb—slow, messy, deliberate.

Make the woman beside him watch as his screams turned to garbled sobs, as her smug grin shattered into terror and grief. He’d drink in the moment, let it stretch long, let her understand what it meant to cross him.

Then, when there was nothing left of the kid but a broken husk, he’d turn to her. Take his sweet time breaking her further.

The thrill crawled up his spine like a drug.

But... still, a doubt flared in his mind, who the hell was this punk?

Skullrend turned to his S-class henchmen, voice low and sharp. "Who the hell are they? The kid and the shadow bitch—any of you know ’em?"

Gutshard shrugged, his claw-tipped fingers flexing. "No clue, boss. Never seen ’em on any roster." Lashbite smirked, coiling her whip tighter. "Not S-class, that’s for damn sure—probably just loudmouth nobodies."

But Frostveil—her icy blue skin shimmering faintly—stayed silent. Her gaze locked onto Ryn, wide and unblinking, her mouth falling open.

A trembling finger lifted, pointing at him, her breath catching in dry, stuttering gasps. "A... a..."

Skullrend’s human eye narrowed, suspicion creeping in. "What’s wrong with you? You know him or somethin’?"

She didn’t answer—just choked out those same broken sounds, "A... a..."—and took a step forward, away from Skullrend’s side. His surprise deepened, his voice snapping after her. "Hey! Get back here—what the hell you doin’?"

But she didn’t listen, her frost-tipped boots scuffing the cracked pavement as she moved toward the heroes, alone, her finger still aimed at Ryn like a compass needle locked on true north.

The battlefield stilled, a ripple of confusion spreading through both sides.

The heroes flinched, hands twitching toward powers—Ironclad’s armor creaked, Vortex’s winds stirred, the wiry man’s scarred cheek twitched nervously.

The villains encircling them shifted, muttering among themselves, their grips tightening on weapons.

"What’s she up to?" one grunted. "Gone soft or somethin’?" another hissed. The only motion came from Frostveil, her S-class presence cutting through the tension like a blade, her intent unreadable.

Elena’s steel-blue eyes narrowed, her iron fist clenching as she coiled to strike, ready to lunge at the approaching figure.

Shadows bloomed faintly at Mira’s feet, tendrils curling upward, primed to lash out. But Ryn’s voice cut through, calm and steady. "Hold up—both of you. She’s not hostile."

Mira and Elena snapped their heads toward him, speaking in unison. "Do you know her?"

Ryn tilted his head, amber eyes flicking over Frostveil’s trembling form. "I don’t know. Maybe. But look at her, she doesn’t look like she’s here to fight."

He stepped forward slightly, flames flickering at his fingertips, his voice rising just enough to carry. "Who are you?" He kept his tone even, though a wary edge lingered—he wouldn’t let her get too close unanswered.

Every eye on the docks locked onto Frostveil, the suspense thick enough to choke on. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

In the background, the low-rank villains strained to catch the exchange, their heads craning.

A scrawny C-class with oversized ears grinned suddenly, his superhearing kicking in. "Oi, I got it—dubbing it for ya!" he whispered, relaying the words in a hushed play-by-play.

"She’s talkin’ to the fire kid with black hair..." The others crowded around him, wide-eyed, shoving for a better spot. "Keep it comin’, Ears!" one barked. For the first time, the runt of the pack basked in their attention, puffing out his chest. It was his popularity day.

Frostveil stopped a few paces from Ryn, her icy hands trembling as she forced the words out. "A... Ar..." She choked, swallowing hard, then managed, "Are you Fireboy?"

Ryn’s face lit up, a spark of recognition flaring in his amber eyes.

A fan? That was new—proof he wasn’t just a small time ghost from a forgotten era.

"Yeah, I’m Fireboy," he said, struggling to keep his composure as a shy blush crept up his cheeks.

His lips twitched, fighting a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. It was almost cute, this flicker of boyish pride breaking through his usual grit.

Mira snorted, her shadows curling playfully as she elbowed him. "Look at you, blushing like a kid with a crush. Pull it together—people are tryin’ to kill us here."

Her chuckle cut through the grim air, totally at odds with the battlefield’s weight.

Frostveil’s voice wavered, her next words tumbling out in broken shards. "B... but how? You died—but now you look the same..." Her silver eyes shimmered, confusion twisting her frost-pale features.

Ryn scratched the back of his neck, his blush fading into a sheepish grin. "Long story. Let’s just say I’m hard to keep down."

Tears welled in Frostveil’s eyes, spilling over as her knees buckled.

She sank to the ground, her icy hands clutching the pavement. "I... I’m sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I’m so sorry." Sobs shook her frame, raw and unguarded, her head bowing as if the weight of years pressed her down.

Ryn blinked, utterly lost. "Sorry? For what?" He stepped closer, amber eyes searching her face, confusion knitting his brow.

The battlefield held its breath—heroes and villains alike frozen, watching this strange, raw moment unfold. Skullrend’s sneer twisted into a scowl, his red eye flaring with irritation.

Elena’s fist unclenched slightly, uncertainty flickering in her steel-blue stare. Mira’s shadows stilled, her smirk fading as she glanced between Ryn and the crying woman.

In the distance, the superhearing villain whispered to his crew, "She said ’Fireboy’—he’s alive? And she’s sorry? What’s that mean?" The grunts buzzed with confusion, their makeshift narrator now a lifeline to the drama, they got engrossed in.