“the meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”

Wanderer stepped outside the school, his mercenaries flanking him. The air was thick with tension, and his gaze fell upon the old man, the leader of the Jackals, sprawled on the ground with burned wounds marring his head. Without hesitation, Wanderer pulled out his silver pistol, aiming it squarely at the old man's forehead.

"Like you said before, there are always consequences," Wanderer said, pressing the cold metal against the old man's skin.

The old man hissed in pain. He stared up at Wanderer, contempt radiating from his eyes. "You think you've won? You're just delaying the inevitable."

"What are you talking about?"

The old man managed a pained chuckle. "You really have no idea, do you? This whole situation is bigger than just a few mercenary skirmishes. The True Horde is rising in power and influence."

"True Horde... ahh yes. I wonder why we, as fellow humans, fight each other. It's because of greedy people like you," Wanderer replied,

The old man laughed hoarsely. "Ah, so now you're playing the sentimental card? Spare me your pitiful words. Survival of the fittest is the only law that matters in our world. It's not about greed; it's about seizing opportunities and making sure your enemies never rise above you."

"Yes, and you put fellow humans as your enemies. That is your own mistake," Wanderer countered.

"Don't talk to me about mistakes. You're the one who messed with my territory, now you have the audacity to lecture me about morals? This is a dog-eat-dog world. If you can't handle the heat, get out of the kitchen," the old man spat.

" So you work with Series 9, isn't it? Why didn't I think of that before?" Wanderer smirked, a glint of realization in his eyes.

The old man smirked back, despite his injuries. "Oh, you finally caught on? Took you long enough. You're right; we have a little partnership with Series 9. They pay well for our services, and we get the supplies we need to operate. It's a win-win situation."

"Good. And do you know my next decision regarding you?" Wanderer asked,

The old man spat out a mix of blood and saliva, his eyes narrowing. "I'm all ears. What's your brilliant plan, Wanderer?"

"I will spare you," Wanderer declared.

The old man smirked, his voice dripping with irony. "Spare me? How generous of you. I suppose I should be grateful that your mercy extends to lowly me. But let me tell you something, Wanderer, mercy is a luxury we cannot afford in this world. You spare one man today, and tomorrow he might turn around and stab you in the back. The only certainty in life is survival, and mercy has no place in that equation."

"I've spared you twice. You'd better be more wise now," Wanderer warned.

The old man coughed, his voice growing weaker. "What do you want from me, Wanderer? You want me to surrender? Admit defeat? I'm a fighter, not some coward who submits to my enemies. I'll fight till the end because that's who I am."

"Stop being like that. Just accept it," Wanderer urged, lifting his pistol and offering his left hand to him.

The old man paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his eyes. "You're serious, aren't you? Fine, I surrender." He reluctantly stood up and took Wanderer's hand, conceding to his fate.

Mermaid watched the scene unfold, a smirk on her face. "Well, well, isn't this a touching moment? The mighty leader of the Jackals reduced to accepting mercy from their arch-rival. How sentimental."

Wanderer glanced at her, then turned back to the old man. But before he could react, the old man drew a sawn-off shotgun. "Only a donkey falls in the same hole twice!" he shouted.

Wanderer turned around, shocked, just as Pann, using his mutant ability, jumped and pushed Wanderer out of harm's way. "Wanderer, be careful! He's not as helpless as he looks!" Pann shouted.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Wanderer regained his footing, realizing the old man's trick. Pann, however, was bleeding from a gunshot wound. The old man, now out of bullets, drew a dagger, choosing to fight to the bitter end. Before he could move closer to Wanderer, the other mercenaries opened fire, shooting him multiple times in the knees until he collapsed, lifeless.

Wanderer stood in shock, his gaze shifting to Pann, who was bleeding heavily. "You... fast... go get med!" he ordered, panic rising in his voice.

Pann nodded but stumbled, falling to the ground. Wanderer rushed to his side, gently supporting him. "Pann, stay with me! We'll get you medical help, just hold on."

Pann's breathing was heavy and shallow. "Wanderer... thank you. I did my best... for you, for the team..." he managed to say, a slight smile on his face.

"No, no... please... you just earned your freedom. Go live!" Wanderer pressed his hand tightly against Pann's.

Pann's eyes began to glaze over. "Wanderer... I don't know if I can make it. But I'm glad I fought... with you and the team. I've finally found my place in the world."

Wanderer's grip tightened, "Don't say that, Pann. You're going to make it. We'll get you to a medic, and you'll be back to your old self in no time. We can't lose you."

"Fuck... you fool... go get medic!" Wanderer shouted at the other mercenaries,

As they sprang into action, Wanderer stayed by Pann's side, offering whatever support he could. "You'll be alright, Pann. Just hold on a little longer. We're going to get you help."

"Hey... stay with me... speak to me, man," Wanderer urged, clapping Pann's cheek gently. But Pann's eyes turned vacant, and he was gone.

Wanderer's voice trembled as he tried to shake Pann back to consciousness, desperation flooding his mind. But Pann didn't respond, his eyes remaining blank and lifeless. Grief and regret washed over Wanderer as he realized Pann had passed away. He clapped his forehead, blood staining his hands, and looked at the dead old man, anger boiling within him. A mix of guilt and fury swirled inside him, and he clenched his fists tightly, his body shaking with the weight of his loss.

Mermaid watched the events unfold with a mix of disbelief and sadness. She couldn't help but wonder what could have been done differently to prevent this tragedy, she felt a sense of empathy for Wanderer's loss. Despite his past actions, she knew that losing a comrade could be a devastating experience for anyone.

Later, as the rest of the merc convoy regrouped at the Mermaid settlement, Shizuka dismounted from the command vehicle. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the abandoned landscape. Her eyes quickly found Wanderer, who leaned against the fence of an old barn, his expression stoic. As she approached, she noticed his fingers idly playing with a blue mamba drug pill, a sight that sent a wave of concern through her.

Without thinking, she slapped the pill from his hand, her voice firm. "What was that for?" Wanderer flinched slightly, his face remaining expressionless as he locked eyes with her, the turmoil within him barely concealed.

Shizuka sighed, her heart aching for him. She stepped forward and pulled him into a warm embrace, hoping to offer some comfort. "Wanderer... I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through. But you can't keep resorting to drugs to cope with grief. It won't bring Pann back."

Wanderer's body tensed for a moment, but he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, seeking solace in her presence. "It's not just about Pann... We've lost so many good men to this point... and..." His voice trailed off, heavy with emotion.

"It's all my fault," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don’t understand God sometimes... what he truly wants."

Shizuka held him tighter, feeling the weight of his pain. "I know this is tough, Wanderer. We've lost too many good people in this battle. But you can't blame yourself. The enemy is to blame for this carnage." She stroked his hair gently, her voice filled with compassion.

"Blame..." Wanderer repeated the word, clearing his throat as he groaned softly. "Yes, let's... I... I don’t know what to do next."

Shizuka leaned back, searching his eyes. "We need to grieve for our fallen comrades. But we also need to honor their memory by continuing the fight." She took his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly. "You don’t have to face this alone, Wanderer. We’re here for you. And together, we will make the enemy pay for what they've done."

Wanderer nodded silently, gratitude swelling in his heart for Shizuka's unwavering support. "Yes, we will bury the dead... and I won’t seek revenge."

He sighed again, slowly removing himself from her embrace. "Alright... okay..." His heavy sigh echoed the weight of his thoughts as he looked into Shizuka's eyes. "Thanks."

Shizuka offered him a reassuring smile. "You don’t have to thank me, Wanderer. We’re a team. We support each other through thick and thin." She stepped back, her gaze drifting to the setting sun. "Let’s get some rest tonight. We’ll pay our respects to the fallen tomorrow. But remember, our fight isn’t over. We have more battles to face, battles that will determine our future."

Wanderer nodded, feeling the exhaustion settle in his bones. "Battle... for the first time in my life... I’m kind of tired."

Shizuka cocked her head, a gentle expression on her face. "Wanderer, I think it’s natural to feel tired after all this fighting. It’s been a long and difficult journey. But we have each other, and together we will continue to push forward." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Rest now, Wanderer. Let your mind and body heal. Tomorrow, we will face whatever comes our way. But for now, take a moment to rest and find some measure of peace. You deserve it."

Meanwhile, Oboro and Furqan observed the scene from a distance, their attention drawn to the boy they had saved from the Series 9 lab, who was still sleeping on one of vehicle. Furqan broke the silence first. "So... what do we do with the boy? Do we adopt him?"

Oboro paused, contemplating Furqan's suggestion. "Adopting him could be beneficial. He could provide valuable tactical insight on Series 9 in exchange for shelter and care."

Furqan nodded,. "Yes, and if we train him in combat, he could become a valuable ally on the battlefield."

"But we should be careful," Oboro cautioned. "He’s been through a lot, and there’s no telling what kind of psychological damage he’s endured."

Just then, Nodira walked toward them, placing her hands on her hips. "You boys are always so cruel to each other, huh?"

Furqan chuckled at her comment. "Cruel? No, we’re just discussing the best way to handle the situation. We’re a team, after all."

Nodira raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and skepticism evident in her expression. "Ha! A team. More like a dysfunctional family with a penchant for chaos."

Oboro rolled his eyes and joined in the conversation. "You have a better idea, Nodira? We’re all ears."

Nodira smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, since you asked so nicely, here’s my idea: we don’t do anything at all."

Furqan’s expression shifted from amusement to disbelief. "You want us to do nothing? What kind of plan is that?"

Nodira shrugged nonchalantly. "Sometimes, the wisest course of action is to simply wait and observe. The boy is young; he’ll make his own decision about his fate."

Oboro raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Nodira’s proposition. "And what if his decision is to become our enemy? What then?"

"Then we’ll deal with that when the time comes," Nodira replied confidently. "But for now, we should give him space to process what he’s been through. He’s been through enough turmoil already."

She crossed her arms, challenging Furqan and Oboro with a sly smile. "Now, gentlemen, shall we stop arguing and agree that I’m right?"

Furqan sighed, begrudgingly admitting defeat. "Fine, fine. You win this round, Nodira. But don’t get used to it!"

Oboro rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. Nodira grinned triumphantly, savoring her victory. "I knew you’d see things my way eventually, boys."