The silence that followed his words was deafening. Thamuz felt how Berkam tensed behind him, while Narek took a step forward, his face showing fear.

"Korro," replied Narek, his voice barely a whisper. "We didn't know this was your territory now. We're not looking for trouble."

Korro, the leader of the Steel Fangs, let out a dry laugh without humor. "Trouble has found you, old friend. And you too, Berkam," he added, his gaze shifting towards the tall woman. "It's been a long time since you abandoned us."

Thamuz, still in a defensive position, was quickly assessing the situation. They were outnumbered, and the tension in the air suggested that violence could erupt at any moment. His mind was working at full speed, looking for a way out, a way to protect his friends from the threat looming over them.

The tension in the air became almost palpable as the verbal confrontation escalated. Berkam, with a feeling of pain and anger, defended herself:

"You treated me as if I were just an object. I also have my life and my feelings, something you didn't consider when we were together."

Korro responded with barely contained fury:

"Yeah! I bought you anything you wanted and you didn't appreciate it. You only looked away, with no interest in me at all."

The leader of the Steel Fangs shifted his attention to Thamuz, approaching with deliberately slow steps. He stopped in front of him, scrutinizing him with a contemptuous look.

"And what hole did you crawl out of?" asked Korro, narrowing his eyes.

"From no hole. I'm someone normal like you," replied Thamuz, his voice laden with irritation.

Korro's mocking laughter echoed in the alley, followed by the laughter of his gang.

"Normal? That's the last thing I expected you to say about yourself."

Narek, unable to contain his frustration, muttered:

"He's more normal than you."

The whisper didn't go unnoticed by Korro, who turned sharply towards Narek, his face inches from his.

"Could you repeat that?" challenged Korro, the implicit threat in his tone.

Narek, in a burst of courage, shouted:

"Thamuz is more normal than you, you ruthless bastard!"

A sepulchral silence fell over the group. Korro, with eyes and mouth wide open, looked at his gang, who reflected his astonishment. Turning his attention back to Narek, a sinister smile drew on his face.

"Well, it seems you've finally grown the balls you were missing," he said with venomous sarcasm.

Berkam, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, stepped forward:

"Korro, this doesn't have to end badly. We've all changed. We can resolve this in a civilized manner."

The leader of the Steel Fangs let out a bitter laugh.

"Civilized? In these streets? I think you've forgotten how things work here, dear."

Thamuz, feeling that the situation could get out of control at any moment, intervened:

"Listen, Korro. We don't want trouble. Just let us go and we won't set foot in your territory again. You have my word."

Korro observed Thamuz with renewed interest, as if he were evaluating him in a new light.

"Your word? And what value does the word of someone I don't even know have?" he questioned, his tone showing disdain.

Thamuz, upon hearing Korro's response, tensed his muscles and gritted his teeth. His eyes turned an intense red color combined with black, and his horns seemed to enlarge along with his body. He opened his mouth and a dark voice began to speak:

"Look, I'm trying to find the most peaceful solution I can imagine, I don't want to hurt anyone, nor do I want you to hurt me or my friends, so you better retreat with your gang if you don't want me to break everyone's bones!"

Korro felt impressed by Thamuz's threat. He crossed his arms and expressed a mocking smile, raising his palm in the air and snapping his fingers. Immediately, four hooded figures of the same size as Thamuz rose in the distance, heading towards where Korro was.

"What are your orders, sir?" said one of the figures, kneeling.

"Rip out their ribs and stab their necks with them," ordered Korro, without taking his eyes off Thamuz.

The hooded figures nodded and walked towards Thamuz, raising their arms while others cracked their knuckles, the sound resonating in the silent tension of the moment.

"Go through an empty alley. Narek, take a carriage with Berkam and go to your house quickly," said Thamuz, retreating as he saw the figures approaching.

"But what about you, Thamuz? I can't leave you here alone," protested Narek, clinging to Berkam's arm, who upon hearing Thamuz's order grabbed him and tried to flee with him.

"Don't worry about me. If you stay, I'll have to take care of both of you. Besides..." said Thamuz, turning his head to look at Narek, "I've already won two shamonak fights to the death; this will be nothing but a piece of cake."

Narek looked at Thamuz with eyes of concern and turned to look at Korro, who returned his gaze and showed him a big smile, Narek turned his gaze to where Thamuz was and nodded, fleeing with Berkam.

"Well, now it's just you," said Korro, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, it's more than enough to put you in your place," replied Thamuz, taking an attack position.

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"Whatever you say, friend," said Korro, raising his palm again and lowering it.

The hooded figures, four in total, ran towards Thamuz. They lowered their arms and extended their palms, trying to grab him.

Thamuz, noticing this, jumped nimbly, dodging the grip of one of the hooded figures. As he descended, he delivered a powerful stomp to its head, causing the ground to crack under the impact.

The other hooded figures retreated, surprised to see how one of them had been defeated so easily. They began to walk in circles, surrounding Thamuz.

"You've got some fighter in you, boy," said one of the figures.

"You still have time to surrender," warned Thamuz, closely observing their movements.

"We can't let a young man humiliate us like this," replied another figure.

The three remaining figures lunged at Thamuz, who, taken by surprise, couldn't respond in time. He was immobilized, receiving the impact and shock of their attacks.

Thamuz quickly tensed his muscles, trying to minimize the impact of the blows he was receiving, from slaps to kicks aimed at his ribs.

The barrage of blows continued until Thamuz, with a heart-rending scream, raised his fist and hit the head of one of the figures, nailing it to the ground as if it were a nail.

The two remaining figures gasped in fear upon seeing how another of their companions had been defeated so decisively.

They retreated, maintaining their attack position, while Thamuz remained still, not assuming any movement.

Desperate, one of the figures ran towards Thamuz, trying to embrace him to execute a hold.

Thamuz received the grip, stepping back a few paces due to the force his rival was exerting. He grabbed his opponent's hips and lifted him into the air.

"I always warn them, but they never listen to me," said Thamuz, placing his opponent's legs on his shoulders, then slamming him to the ground with great force, making him bounce and fall right at the feet of the last remaining hooded figure.

The last hooded figure saw how his companion was gasping for air, while vomiting blood. He raised his head to look at Thamuz and took a defensive pose, extending his right arm with an open palm while his left arm was next to his chest, with his hand closed.

Thamuz took an attack stance, extending his arms and slowly approaching his rival.

"I saw that pose before, is that pose only focused on defense?" asked Thamuz, with curiosity in his voice.

"Why should I tell you?" replied the hooded figure.

Thamuz gave a slight sigh and stared into his rival's eyes. He lunged at him and tried to give him a palm strike, but the hooded figure grabbed his arm and gave him a strong blow to the chin.

Thamuz felt the impact completely, stepping back a few paces and rubbing his chin, noticing that it had a small tear.

"You hit very hard," said Thamuz, noting the skill of the hooded figure.

"Your chin is very weak," replied the figure, with a mocking tone.

Thamuz laughed a little along with him and prepared. He launched himself against him again, but instead of making a palm strike, he tried to grab him with both arms.

The hooded figure, seeing this, stepped back a little, causing Thamuz to simply grab the air. He raised his leg and delivered a kick to the face that sounded like a large rock had fallen on the stage.

"He's already knocked out," said Korro, with a mocking smile as he crossed his arms.

Thamuz had remained static in his position, looking at the sky while his neck was backwards in a twisted position. Suddenly, he started laughing and began to walk backwards. He lowered his head and stared into the eyes of the hooded figure.

"Well, if you're going to play that way," he said, between laughs.

He walked backwards until he touched a rock, stopping in his position. He joined his arms and gave himself a small turn, raising his shoulder while holding his forearm.

"I saw my father do this technique once against a defensive position identical to yours. The result was... somewhat violent," he said, tensing his muscles.

The hooded figure, although intimidated, maintained his defensive posture. The air was charged with tension as Thamuz prepared to execute his father's technique.

In an instant, Thamuz launched forward with superhuman speed. His body spun in the air, his shoulder extended like a spear. The hooded figure tried to block, but the force of the impact was overwhelming.

Thamuz's shoulder broke through his opponent's defense, connecting directly with his solar plexus. A chilling crunch was heard, and the hooded figure was sent flying backwards.

In the distance, under the dim light of the gas lamps, two figures could be seen sitting at an elegant table. A woman dressed in an embroidered silk dress and a man wearing shining armor as if it were his second skin. They were enjoying an exquisite dinner while exchanging words in low voices, surrounded by a circle of soldiers with equally imposing armor, their faces hidden behind polished steel helmets.

"So, darling, how was your day?" asked the woman, her melodious voice contrasting with the tinkling of silver cutlery.

The man chewed thoughtfully before responding:

"Quite unusual, actually. Today we had to pick up a guy who looked like he had an encounter with an enraged giant. His knee was shattered and his back... well, let's say it looked like a map of fractures."

"By Azhamat," exclaimed the woman, bringing a jeweled hand to her chest. "Who would be capable of such brutality?"

The man leaned forward, lowering his voice:

"According to witnesses, it was the work of a sort of colossus. Skin black as ebony, eyes red as burning rubies, and horns that would make a demon pale. And the strangest thing, he was accompanied by a young man, almost a child in comparison."

The woman frowned, her eyes shining with a mixture of fascination and fear.

"What a relief that they have him identified. Such a creature... it can't be from this world. What if it were some kind of summoned demon?"

The man let out a laugh, making a disdainful gesture with his fork.

"Demon or not, he will taste the edge of my sword if he dares to cause more problems. I'll send him back to the hell he came from."

Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood. A hooded figure crashed into their table with the force of a meteorite, sending plates and glasses flying through the air.

The woman stifled a scream, while the man jumped up, his hand instinctively seeking the hilt of an absent sword. His eyes fell on the fallen figure, noticing the distinctive mark on his face barely visible under the torn hood.

"Damned Steel Fangs," growled the man, his voice tinged with anger and disgust. "What the hell are they up to now?"

The soldiers formed a protective circle around the couple, their drawn weapons gleaming under the moonlight. The silence that followed was broken by a pitiful moan from the fallen figure, and the distant sound of more breaking glass.

The woman, regaining her composure, approached her husband and whispered:

"Darling, I think your wish to face that demon may have come true sooner than expected."

The woman pointed towards the horizon with a trembling hand. The man turned abruptly and was stunned by the scene unfolding: Thamuz, an imposing and terrifying figure, was fighting against a horde of Steel Fangs gang members. The man made a grimace of disgust and extended his right arm with authority.

"Give me my sword," he ordered in a firm voice.

Meanwhile, Thamuz was in the eye of a hurricane of violence. The gang members attacked him frantically from all sides, their metal bars whistling through the air. Some bent or broke upon contact with Thamuz's seemingly indestructible skin, while others barely managed to scratch him.

"Finish him!" shouted Korro, his voice tinged with desperation and rage.

Finding himself overwhelmed by the number of attackers, Thamuz improvised. He grabbed the leg of one of the hooded figures he had previously defeated and used it as a macabre club. The gang members flew through the air as if they were dry leaves, hit by Thamuz's colossal strength and the inert body of one of their fallen comrades.

Korro, seeing how his gang was being decimated, tried to flee in panic. However, his escape was frustrated when he crashed into what seemed to be a living steel wall. He looked up and found himself face to face with one of the elite soldiers. They had formed an impenetrable circle, cutting off all escape routes.

"In the name of the bishop's guards, I order you to stop all this!" thundered an authoritative voice from behind the soldiers.

Thamuz stopped instantly, dropping the body he had been using as a weapon. His eyes scanned the battlefield, observing the scattered bodies of the gang he had reduced to rubble.

The man in shining armor advanced, wielding an imposing sword that reflected the moonlight. His voice resonated with the weight of the law:

"I, Bhelisarius, place you both under arrest."

The silence that followed was absolute. Thamuz, covered in blood and sweat, stared at Bhelisarius, assessing the situation. Korro, for his part, was visibly trembling, trapped between the terror that Thamuz inspired in him and the fear of the kingdom's justice.