Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

He also noticed something peculiar: after certain individuals walked a bit, he could no longer sense their presence clearly or at all. He quickly deduced they must have stepped into a well-lit area.

"I detect about 15 unique presences here," Don muttered to himself. "Five outside, and the rest inside. But I should assume there might be more in well-lit areas."

Having reached this conclusion, Don's figure faded into the shadows of the very roof he was on.

Below, outside the warehouse, the two guards Don had eavesdropped on earlier were still chatting casually, strangely relaxed.

Now observing them from the corner of a dark crate, Don thought, 'They probably don't know what happened to their friends. That's clever on their leader's part—it keeps them from panicking.'

'But,' he thought, 'it also means they'll be as complacent as ever, making them easy targets.'

"Hey Jim, can I have five bucks to go grab a pack of cigarettes or something?" one of he guards asked, scratching the back of his head with a wide grin.

The other guard frowned and pulled some money from his pocket. "Yeah, grab me a root beer while you're at it," he said, handing over the cash.

Don watched with faint amusement at how casual these guards were. He began to wonder if what they were protecting was even worth anything. As soon as the first guard left, Don knew it was time to act.

He waited until the other was completely out of sight before making his move.

The remaining guard, now alone at the front, sighed and pulled out his phone, idly scrolling through social media profiles of busty women.

One of Don's shadow tendrils began to creep up behind him, rising from the dark shadows on the wall. The guard remained completely oblivious until it was too late. **Whoosh!** Without warning, the tendril snapped forward, coiling tightly around the man's neck.

His eyes widened in shock as he dropped his phone in panic, his hands clawing at his throat, desperately trying to grasp what was strangling him. But there was nothing for him to hold on to—it was a shadow, after all.

Gasping for air, the man struggled, confusion and terror washing over his face as the tendril squeezed tighter with every passing second.

The guard's eyes bulged, face turning purple as he gasped for air that would never come. His hands clawed weakly at his neck, but there was no escape from the tightening tendril of shadow.

**Thud.** His lifeless body soon crumpled to the ground, the phone he'd been holding clattering uselessly beside him.

Don didn't spare the corpse a second glance. His eyes were already tracking the next target—the guard who had left moments earlier to grab cigarettes.

Slipping into the nearby shadows, Don followed him, his movements silent and fluid, using the darkness to cloak his presence.

The guard walked casually, unaware of the fate that had just befallen his friend. He whistled a jaunty tune, his footsteps echoing faintly in the cool night air of the docks.

He stopped at a corner near a stack of crates, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette, oblivious to the predator stalking him from the shadows.

Don moved fast, his form barely noticeable in the dim light.

**Swish.** In one quick motion, Don lunged from behind, grabbing the man by the head, clamping a hand tightly over his mouth. The guard's eyes widened in shock, but he couldn't scream—his muffled cries died in his throat as Don slammed him against the crate.

There was a brief struggle—futile.

Don twisted the man's head sharply, and **crack**—the sound of snapping vertebrae could be heard. Blood splattered onto the crate as the guard's body slumped lifelessly in Don's grip.

He let the body drop with a dull **thump** and wiped his hands on the man's shirt before standing up.

'Two down,' Don thought, scanning the area again. 'Three more left.'

He moved back toward the warehouse, his superhuman senses on full alert. In the span of two seconds, he located the remaining guards lingering outside—two stationed at the far back of the building, and another off to the side, alone.

Disappearing into the shadows once more, Don reappeared near the lone guard, who sat comfortably on a crate, smoking a cigarette with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other.

His face lit up with frustration as he muttered to himself. "Damn it, another three-star pull. This thing is rigged."

Amused, Don stepped forward, blending into the shadows cast by the warehouse wall. From behind the guard, Don's voice resonated, low and almost mocking. "I think you're worried about the wrong thing."

The guard's eyes widened in panic. He turned his head sharply, looking over his shoulder, but there was nothing behind him—only darkness and the dull glow of the nearby warehouse lights.

Confused, he scratched his head and glanced down at the cigarette between his fingers.

'What the hell? I'm starting to hear shit' he thought, taking a final drag before turning back to his phone.

As soon as his eyes focused forward, he froze. Don stood directly in front of him, inches away.

Before the guard could scream or call for help, Don's hand shot out, clamping down over his mouth. **Wham!** With brutal force, Don slammed the man against the wall, muffling his cries as his other hand grabbed the guard's neck and twisted sharply.

**Crack.**

The guard's body went limp, falling heavily to the ground as well. Don wiped his hands on his suit, his expression cold and indifferent as he stepped over the corpse. 'Three down. Two to go.'

He slipped into the shadows once more, reappearing on the roof of the warehouse. From this vantage point, he could see the last two guards standing near each other at the far end of the building.

They were more alert than the others, guns drawn and glancing around occasionally, but Don knew it wouldn't make a difference. Not for what he had planned.

Crouching low, Don extended a shadow tendril toward a stack of metal containers nearby, using it to create a faint **clang**.

The guards stiffened at the noise, exchanging annoyed glances. "Did you hear that?" one asked, irritation clear in his voice.

"Yeah, I heard it," the other replied, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Go check it out."

"Why me?" the first guard protested. "It's probably nothing."

"Because I'm staying here," the second guard shot back, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

Grumbling under his breath, the first guard reluctantly started walking toward the containers, flashlight in hand. He swept the beam of light over the area, squinting as he searched for the source of the noise.

His heart rate quickened, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

As the guard took a step closer, Don acted.