"Bastards! Who are you?" The shout erupted from inside the tent where Charon and the others stood ready.
"Let's bust this bastard now, Sir Mycen..." growled the young man with the bow—his voice edged with ferocity.
"Hold, Runick," the old warrior whom they called Mycen responded calmly—exhaling deeply to steady himself. "You're surrounded! The both of you! Surrender, now!" Mycen's command echoed firmly, but...
"Never!" came the defiant reply from inside the tent.
"This is your last chance!"
"Go... to hell, bastard!"
A chance wasted. Negotiations bore no fruit. What was next on the list would be the armed intervention.
Mycen seized the brightly burning torch beside him and hurled it toward the top of the tent. Ablaze. The top of the tent quickly caught on fire—the flames licked the dry surface of the thick cloth, spreading rapidly.
"Arms ready," Mycen commanded the four young men standing before him, taking his battle stance. The three young men followed suit, weapons poised.
As the fire consumed the tent, thick smoke billowed out in swirling tendrils. The acrid fumes choked the lungs of the thug trapped inside—a series of violent coughs echoed from within. It was a desperate struggle against suffocation... unless they got out of there. With a burst of urgency, a figure stumbled through the blazing entrance, gasping for breath as they emerged.
The thug burst out from the flaming tent, emerging directly between Mycen and his young men. Without hesitation, Runick drew his bow and released an arrow aimed at the thug's right torso. The arrow found its mark, sinking deep into the thug's side. Despite the deep wound, the thug spun around to face his attackers—a snarl twisting his features.
"Aargh!" The thug roared like a cornered beast, flailing his arms wildly, as he advanced the young man with knives in both hands.
In response, the young man quickly stepped back away from the thug's grasp. With deft precision, he darted the knives in his hands toward the charging thug in front of him—the left first followed in quick succession by the right. The thug staggered, his momentum was effectively halted by the twin blades buried deep in his torso as blood now trickled down his front.
Next, Charon sprinted up behind the thug, swiftly hooking his arms around the man's neck. Planting his right foot strategically behind the thug, he shifted his weight to the left and twisted his body in a fluid motion. His movements connected one after the other and successfully threw the thug down. The thug crashed to the ground with a pained groan, subdued by Charon's decisive maneuver.
Finally, Runick, who again loaded his bow with another arrow, shot at the thug on the ground. The arrow went straight for the thug's neck. The thug jerked like crazy for a moment but it quickly subsided over time. Dead.
Charon went for the young man who flung his knives sitting on the ground. He extended a helping hand towards him.
"You hurt, Austin?" Charon asked with concern evident in his voice. The young man on the ground, Austin, grasped Charon's hand and used it to pull himself up.
"No, I'm good," Austin replied tersely as his gaze was still fixed on the aftermath of the battle he had.
"Next tent, boys," Mycen commanded, already striding towards the middle tent. The three followed him, with Austin trailing behind after retrieving his knives from the fallen thug.
Charon turned to the two young men guarding the middle tent's entrance. "This one is still inside, right?" he asked them.
"Yes, and it looks like they're cooking something inside," the other young man with a bow answered.
"What do you mean, Nolan?" Runick inquired, reaching for another arrow from his quiver.
"Something's burning inside, and can't you smell that sweet fragrance? Definitely some rich shit..." Nolan, the one who answered earlier, further elaborated.
"Step aside, List. I'm taking the front," ordered Mycen as he exchanged places with the young man named List, positioning himself at the forefront.
"All yours, Sir," responded List as he backed off from his position.
All six of them were now focused on the last enemy. Mycen waved his hand. "On my mark..."
SHRICK!
Everyone outside heard something. A sound of something tearing apart inside the tent.
SHRUT!
There. Again. All of the folks outside were puzzled. All... except Nolan. His eyes widened as if he realized something terrible. Gripping his bow tightly, he bolted around the tent. "Behind!" he shouted.
Mycen first understood what was happening. He charged into the tent and found a large vertical tear in the fabric, big enough for someone to pass through. Charon and List followed closely behind, noticing the tear and the lifeless body on the ground. Ignoring the body, they swiftly darted through the hole at the back of the tent to follow Nolan who went ahead first.
"He escaped, Runick!" List shouted as he ran away.
"Bastard escaped through the back!" Runick exclaimed, realizing it far too late. In hopes of catching the thug himself, he ran around the tent and followed the three in pursuit.
Mycen was left behind, along with Austin outside of the tent.
"Austin, look after the stranger we restrained earlier," commanded Mycen.
"How about the others, sir?"
"They'll manage. We're too late to pursue now. Let's trust them to handle it."
"Understood." Austin turned back and positioned himself beside Adolph. Like a vigilant sentry, he stood guard beside him.
Meanwhile, Mycen remained inside the tent, surveying its contents. His eyes swept over the crates stacked against one wall, a tarnished mirror reflecting the chaos, straw beds in disarray, a cluttered table adorned with assorted items, and a brazier now ablaze with a fierce intensity. His feet brought him near the brazier.
"This is where that sweet aroma is coming from," Mycen muttered to himself.
Upon a closer look, the flames inside the brazier were feeding on something—maybe the reason why it was burning more livelier than before. But Mycen wasn't aware of this difference.
"What's this... A pouch?" Mycen squinted at the object burning in the brazier, its contents obscured by the flames. Only the sweet fragrance was what he could perceive. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him, disorienting his senses. He felt light-headed. His sense of self became strange... He felt... relieved—elated even. His eyes looked drunk all of a sudden, causing his vision to blur momentarily. Not good...
"Austin, I—" Mycen began, but before he could finish, a sharp cry cut through the air.
"Yaargh!"
THUMP.
A sudden blow struck the back of Mycen's head, knocking him senseless. His body tumbled over the brazier, extinguishing the flames as it crashed into the ground, sending the clay pot clattering aside along with its burning contents.
"Sir Mycen! What happened?" Austin's voice trembled with concern as he heard a crash from inside the tent, followed by Mycen's abrupt silence. The entrance of the middle tent swung open, but what came out wasn't Mycen—it was a thug. The last one they were hunting.
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"Impossible..." Austin said as he froze in shock. "But you escaped!"
"You're all fools then," the thug retorted as a sneer of triumph curled his lips.
Austin, without a moment's hesitation, shouted as loudly as his lungs permitted him.
"EVERYONE!—"
SCHULK.
A knife went flying straight to Austin's abdomen.
"No... I—" Austin grimaced before he went down on his knees. His focus was glued to the knife stuck in his body. His wide-open eyes remained locked on it as sweat beads visibly glistened on his cheeks. He was nervous... Afraid.
Adolph who was restrained beside him saw everything. He watched how the young man, almost the same age as he had been when he was still human, got shot by the knife he used to kill someone earlier.
"This is all your fault, Hodum," the thug snarled as he swiftly approached them.
"You... and your friends!" ferociously exclaimed thug as they kicked Austin in the face. Merciless. Austin was rendered motionless, lying on the ground on his side. The thug then grabbed Adolph by the neck, forcing him to meet his gaze. Now, their eyes locked with much intensity.
"How dare this ugly mask frighten me..."
THUMP.
The thug punched Adolph's face. "You lowly addict!"
THUMP.
The thug then again punched him towards the opposite side. Adolph recovered quickly and looked back again at the thug.
"No, don't look at me—" The thug gripped Adolph's head and redirected it towards Austin on their side.
"You should watch the kid die because of your foolishness."
A small patch of blood formed around Austin's wound, the dark red stain growing ominously. As the moments ticked by, Austin's life hung in the balance. His friends were nowhere near to save him, leaving only Adolph there to respond—but he can't. Adolph was still bound and restrained, helpless—unable to do anything but watch. He was there, mocked by the thug he chose to not kill earlier.
Just now, Adolph had thought his life was saved by these people. But that sense of safety was crushed in an instant—all because of a single man.
The thug yanked Adolph's attention back to himself, gripping his neck tighter. All of a sudden—
SHUCK!
A knife—jammed hard on Adolph's neck. It was the knife used by the thug Adolph had previously slain. The knife that once pierced his chest earlier was back stuck inside of his neck.
"This is for my brother," whispered the thug as he gripped the knife on Adolph's neck, pushing it more upwards.
Brother... So that was it. This thug stayed behind and fooled everyone to take his revenge. And that he did. He succeeded. Yes... Now what?
Adolph had already been punctured in the back, yet he didn't bleed. He was stabbed right in the chest, yet he wasn't hurt at all. He had been bashed on the head, yet he wasn't knocked out. Now, a knife was planted deep in his throat, yet he was still fully conscious. He didn't die. No—he couldn't die.
Death was nothing but a foreign concept to him now.
BUMP!
Adolph pushed his body forward, ramming his head against the thug's head. The thug's grip loosened, and Adolph seized the moment to leap back onto his feet. Quickly, he swung his bound arms over his head, bringing them in front of him once more. With a fluid motion, he hooked his tied hands around the thug's head, lifting it, and then delivered a powerful knee strike. The thug whimpered in pain as his nose shattered from the impact.
Adolph hoisted the thug higher before slamming him down onto his back. His whole body sat on top of the thug, pinning him down as he used the rope that tied his hands together to put pressure on the thug's neck—to choke him. From then on, it was a contest of strength. Adolph pushed down his hands to strangle the thug while the thug resisted and pushed it up. One struggled to live while the other struggled... to kill.
The thug's face writhed in pain as it gasped for air which Adolph denied. His mouth gaping and his teeth clenched so tightly that saliva streamed from the corners. His eyes bulged in terror, matching the bloodied nostrils flaring desperately. Giving it his all— fighting for his life. But Adolph wasn't having any of that...
THUMP!
Again, Adolph rammed his head into the thug, the force momentarily dazing his opponent. Seizing the opportunity, Adolph renewed the pressure on the thug's throat with his tied hands. The thug, startled, barely had time to register the blow before he was once more fighting desperately against Adolph's relentless strangling grip.
THUMP!
Adolph bumped his head again. This time, the thug's forehead bore a red swell...
THUMP! THUMP!
Adolph bashed his head twice. Blood now seeped out of the forehead of the thug. His whole face was now also red. From the head bumps? From suffocating? Adolph didn't care, for he again readies his head...
THU—THUMP! THUMP!
With each successive blow from Adolph, the thug's grunts grew feeble. Each headbutt from Adolph drained more strength from the thug's already weakened body. The thug's head spun, the world around him a blur of red and pain. But Adolph was relentless—no mercy. The thug was completely trapped and couldn't escape his assault.
The thug's hand gradually slackened in its futile resistance against Adolph. His legs, which had thrashed about in a desperate struggle, now lay still. Tears, mingled with thick blood, trickled down his face as he stared up into Adolph's blood-splattered mask. Adolph's gaze remained intense, but then he noticed that something had changed in the eye of his victim. The pupils wouldn't move, and the chest beneath Adolph's weight remained motionless. That's right—the thug was finally... gone.
Adolph slowly lifted his hands off the thug's neck. Red, swollen marks remained on it. He stood up and walked away from the body he just strangled to death. He, again, killed someone, but he doesn't feel anything.
Why?
His attention was drawn away from the grim scene by the presence of Charon and the others standing a few steps from him. Adolph noticed that List and Runick had already moved Austin away from the fight earlier—something that Adolph wasn't aware of when they did. They aided their injured friend, but now both their eyes were fixed on Adolph—like everyone else.
Nolan stood at the forefront, bow pulled and aimed in Adolph's direction. His eyes were fighting the dread he felt as he looked at Adolph. Mycen, supported by Charon at the rear, struggled to stand upright—his gaze also fixed on Adolph with a mix of weariness and caution. Charon, like Nolan, held his bow steady in his hands and aimed it at Adolph.
Watchful eyes. Everyone was wary of this lone wolf. Their attention was fully focused on him. With even the smallest suspicious movement, they were ready to intercept him.
But for Adolph... he wanted no more. He was tired—not his immortal body but his dampened mind. Adolph wanted to stop... yearned to halt... so he unveiled his intent through his actions.
He began to draw his bound hands behind his head, but before he could complete the movement, an arrow pierced his torso. It was Nolan's—his bow hand trembled as his other hand fumbled for another arrow on his back. Beside him, Charon was already straining the string of his bow to the fullest—gritting his teeth as he readied his shot.
Adolph, completely undeterred by the arrow in his torso, continued to rotate his arms behind him. He kneeled and sat on his calf, then turned his gaze back towards the people before him.
"Wait, boys..." Mycen said softly as he stepped forward. "Stranger, are... are you still alive?" he asked Adolph.
Adolph bobbed his head in response.
"Are you hurt?" Nolan asked to which Adolph subtly wiggled his head. Everyone was genuinely shocked. Nolan and Charon cautiously lowered their bows; they knew their arrows wouldn't do anything against Adolph, nor would they be needed for the moment now.
"Who are you?" Mycen asked again, his voice laced with curiosity. But Adolph, with no way to respond, only stared blankly back at Mycen.
"Maybe he can't speak..." Nolan ventured.
"Yeah... With a knife like that stuck in your throat, I doubt you can speak either," Charon quipped sarcastically.
"You won't even be moving like that, wouldn't you?" Nolan answered back to Charon.
"Sir Mycen, Austin will lose more blood at this rate. Let's leave now!" List exclaimed urgently. Upon hearing this, Adolph stood up. His abrupt action made everyone jump in surprise. Mycen thought that Adolph had reacted when List said they would go home. Because of this, he fronted Adolph with another question.
"You... won't hurt us, right?" Mycen asked cautiously with a face full of uncertainty. His face was unsure if he should be worried or be on guard around Adolph.
Adolph nodded solemnly—a gesture that brought a slight sense of relief to Mycen and the others.
"Alright. Charon, go and fetch Regal here. You two keep attending to Austin's wound! Nolan, check the perimeter for any signs of danger. You hear or see something—you shout immediately. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" replied Charon, Nolan, and the others in unison. Charon and Nolan went ahead and did their tasks while List and Runick continued to assist the injured Austin.
Mycen then approached Adolph. "As for you... We're returning home. You can tag along... if you want... Are you really okay?"
Adolph nodded—a response that caught Mycen off guard. He took a good look at Adolph's mask and at the knife stuck on his neck. Afterward, he left and made his way toward the injured Austin on the ground. Along the path, he murmured something under his breath...
.
.
.
"I hope I won't regret making this decision."