Chương 49: Stick's Scheme

"You're already dead, Stick," Elektra said coldly. Stick froze. There was no weapon in Elektra's hand—he was sure of it. Despite being blind, Stick could confirm that with absolute certainty. After all, he was like Daredevil with heightened senses, only with senses even sharper. In the series, Daredevil was once surrounded by the Hand's ninjas, about to be overwhelmed. It was Stick who had guided him, teaching him a more advanced form of "hearing," allowing Daredevil to defeat the ninjas in one fell swoop.

The first time Stick visited Daredevil's apartment, he navigated it easily, finding the fridge and pulling out a beer without hesitation. With impressive skill, he had flicked the bottle cap against several walls before it landed in the trash bin — all without seeing. So, even though blind, Stick was essentially a man who could "see."

"What's with the weapon in your hand? How did it suddenly appear?" Stick asked, genuinely puzzled by what he couldn't comprehend. But the next moment, he quickly realized what was going on.

"This is the superpower you mentioned, isn't it? Like a mutant's ability?"

"Exactly. I just ate a Devil Fruit, and now I can grow thorny spikes from my body," Elektra explained, nodding in confirmation.

"Such a thing really exists?" Stick reached out, trying to touch the spikes in Elektra's hand, but with a mere thought, the spikes extended, forcing Stick to step back. Bam! Elektra swiftly kicked Stick, knocking him to the ground.

"Now, do you believe me?" she scoffed.

"Devil Fruits? Incredible! I never thought such a miraculous thing existed in this world," Stick marveled aloud, genuinely astonished. If this were true, then all the suspicions surrounding Fisk, who was believed to possess the Iron Fist's powers, suddenly made sense. It had all been a mistake. From beginning to end, it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.

"So, Elektra, is this what you've been working on lately? Not bad," Stick, who was always harsh with his praise, offered Elektra a rare compliment.

"Stick, now you have no reason to stop me from killing Kingpin, right?" Elektra cut through the praise, her voice firm as she pressed the matter again.

"No, this doesn't change anything. We still can't kill Fisk," Stick replied coldly. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"Why not? He's clearly not the Iron Fist!" Elektra's voice rose sharply, anger bubbling over.

"But the Hand doesn't know that. To them, he is the Iron Fist," Stick replied, revealing his strategy. In other words, it didn't matter whether Kingpin was truly the Iron Fist. What mattered was letting the Hand believe it, allowing them to wage war on him. Stick planned to manipulate the situation from the shadows, pushing the Hand and Kingpin into conflict so they'd tear each other apart — leaving Stick to benefit from the chaos.

"Stick, you're always like this. What are we to you, huh? Does Matt's death mean nothing to you?" Elektra's fury peaked, unable to contain her rage.

"Emotions are a weakness, Elektra. That's why Matt died. You need to learn from his death," Stick said, his voice devoid of empathy.

"I've taught you everything, yet it seems you've forgotten all of it."

"Screw your teachings!" Elektra spat angrily.

"Elektra, you're not thinking clearly. Until you calm down and regain your composure, stay out of this," Stick dismissed her, his face as expressionless as ever, paying no mind to her anger. Elektra, who had been seething with fury, was suddenly jolted by his words. Despite her anger, Elektra hesitated. She knew Stick had been busy in recent weeks, investigating and planning, having mistakenly believed that Kingpin was the Iron Fist. He had laid intricate groundwork based on that assumption.

Thanks to Stick's maneuvering, both Elektra and Stick had been "outed" to Kingpin as members of the Hand. Kingpin might have seemed quiet lately, but Stick knew he was preparing for a massive strike. The conflict between Kingpin and the Hand, orchestrated by Stick, was imminent. At such a critical moment, Stick couldn't afford anyone disrupting his plans — not even his student, Elektra. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Later that night, at the docks.

"Vladimir, what the hell are you doing?" Shin angrily confronted a bear-like man standing before him by a row of shipping containers. That man was none other than Vladimir, the elder of the Russian brothers who ruled part of Hell's Kitchen.

"Do you really think you've been acting in secret? That I wouldn't notice? You dared to touch my goods. Do you even know what kind of power you've provoked?" Shin fumed as he stormed towards Vladimir, but suddenly, he stopped short, sensing something was wrong. He reached out and gently touched the shadowed figure in front of him. To his shock, Vladimir's body suddenly slumped, falling to the ground with a thud. It was only then that Shin noticed—Vladimir's throat had been slit. He was long dead.

"Damn it," Shin muttered.

"It's a trap!" His body tensed as he scanned his surroundings, now on high alert. He wasn't stupid. It was clear this whole thing had been a setup—a trap explicitly laid for him.

"Who's there!" Shin shouted. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadowy figure atop another pile of containers in the distance. Though he couldn't make out the figure's details due to the dim light, he could tell this person was no ordinary threat. At Shin's shout, the darkness behind him stirred, and one by one, figures clad in black emerged—ninjas, their weapons glinting in the moonlight, the cold steel cutting through the night air.

"Kill them." From atop the containers, a faint voice echoed from the direction of the mysterious figure. Immediately, the man moved his hands rapidly, repeatedly throwing something in Shin's direction. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! The sound of sharp objects slicing through the air filled the night. It felt like a rain of arrows descended upon them, ready to engulf them all.

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