The village was on fire.
Roofs were falling. Smoke covered the sky. People ran through the streets, crying and shouting. Some tried to fight back, but they were knocked down. Slavers with black vulture tattoos on their necks and arms grabbed anyone they could and threw them into metal cages.
The sound of fire crackling mixed with screams. Wood snapped. Chains rattled. It smelled like smoke and blood.
A little girl ran across the village square, her feet bare, her dress torn. She didn't look back. She just ran. Behind her, a slaver saw her and smiled. He raised his sword and started to chase.
The girl tripped.
The sword came down.
Then a boot landed hard on the slaver's back.
He hit the ground face-first with a loud thud.
A boy stood over him, calm and steady. Smoke blew past his jacket. His face was dusty, but he didn't look tired. His foot pressed into the slaver's back, keeping him down.
The girl looked up at him, eyes wide.
He gave her a small, soft smile.
"You okay?"
She nodded slowly.
"Good," he said. "Go find your family. You're safe now."
She smiled back, tears in her eyes.
Then she got up and ran.
The boy stepped off the slaver's back. The man didn't try to get up. He was already out cold.
Three more slavers rushed in. One had a chain, one a club, the last a knife.
The one with the chain attacked first. He swung wide, trying to catch the boy from the side.
The boy grabbed the chain and pulled.
The slaver stumbled. A punch to the jaw dropped him.
The one with the club raised it high. The boy ducked low, stepped in close, and slammed his elbow into the man's ribs. Then a fast uppercut to the chin sent him flying back.
The last one hesitated. He held the knife tighter, shaking.
The boy stared him down.
The slaver charged.
He didn't make it far.
The boy dodged, grabbed his arm, twisted it, then kicked him hard in the chest. The man crashed into a pile of broken wood.
The square fell quiet again.
Then came slow, heavy steps. Crunching over broken stone and ash.
From behind a cage stepped a tall man. His coat was dark and dusty. His eyes were cold and calm. A black vulture tattoo stretched from his jaw to his neck. A silver badge swung from his belt.
He looked at the boy without blinking.
"You ruined my sale."
The boy didn't answer.
"You think you're strong? Let's see how strong."
He walked closer. Step by step.
Then he rushed forward and threw a punch.
The boy blocked it, but the hit was heavy. He slid back a little, boots scraping the ground.
Another punch came in fast. He dodged it and hit the man in the ribs. Then again in the stomach. Then a fast kick to the chest.
The man grabbed his foot and spun, throwing the boy toward a burning wall.
The boy twisted in the air, landed on one foot, and pushed off again. He came back swinging.
The fight moved across the square. Fists hit flesh. Dust kicked up. Fire lit their faces.
The man fought like someone who had done this for years. Strong arms. Quick feet. Brutal hits.
But the boy was faster. Smarter. He didn't waste movement. Every strike was clean. Every dodge just close enough.
The man growled as he was pushed back again and again. Blood showed on his lip. His coat was torn.
The boy stepped in with a sharp hook to the side of the face. Then a spin and a kick that sent the man crashing into a broken fence.
Wood cracked.
The man lay still for a moment. Breathing hard.
Then he stood up slowly.
He looked at the boy and smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile.
"Alright," he said. "No more games."
He raised one hand.
"The one who pulls the trigger decides who lives."
The air around his hand began to twist. Shadows curled around his fingers like smoke. They grew darker. Thicker. Shaking the light around them.
A black gun formed in his hand. Smooth. Cold. Alive.
He pointed it straight at the boy.
And the real fight was about to begin.
Soren smirked. "So, you're a concept user."
The bandit boss gave him a cocky grin. "What, you scared?"
Soren glanced at the gun in his hand. "That thing looks pretty strong."
The boss lifted the weapon proudly. "This is called Judgment. I choose who deserves to live with this gun."
He pointed it straight at Soren. "Judgment shot!"
A huge beam exploded out of the barrel, roaring like a thunderclap. Soren dodged fast, but it still grazed his side, burning through his jacket and searing his skin. He landed hard but stayed on his feet, breathing heavily.
"Why is that your belief?" Soren asked, eyes locked on the man.
The bandit boss blinked, like he didn't expect the question. "What?"
Soren stepped forward, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "Why do you believe you get to decide who lives or dies?"
The man hesitated, then his grin slowly returned. "Because I learned a long time ago... nobody saves you. Out here, if you want to live, you take control. You pull the trigger before someone else does. I survived by choosing, by deciding. Weak people don't get second chances."
Soren looked down for a second, then back up. His smile returned, smaller now, more serious. His eyes began to glow faintly — not from anger, but from something steady and deep.
"I get it. You think power is all about control. About making choices for others because no one ever gave you one."
The boss scowled. "What's your point?"
"My point is," Soren said, lifting his hand, "I believe in something different."
The glow in his eyes burned brighter. There was a quiet shift in the air around him, like gravity bending.
"I believe that power is understanding. When I see someone's concept, I see who they really are. And when I understand it... I make it mine."
A rush of energy burst around him. Dark smoke curled around his arm as a black gun shimmered into view, forming from nothing. It was almost identical to the boss's weapon, but it pulsed with Soren's own energy.
The bandit boss took a step back, eyes wide. "No... that's impossible. How did you—"
Soren pointed the gun at him and gave a small grin. "You pulled the trigger first. Now it's my turn."
Soren pulled the trigger.
"Judgment shot!"
The gun lit up, and a giant beam fired straight at the bandit boss like a blazing streak of light. It carved through the air, burning the ground beneath it.
The boss barely dodged, leaping behind a broken cart. But not fast enough.
The beam clipped him.
When he stood again, his right arm was gone. Just a charred stump where it used to be. Blood sprayed against the cracked stone behind him.
He staggered, eyes wide in shock.
Soren stepped forward, smoke rising from his gun.
"Ouch," he said with a smirk. "That must've hurt, right?"
The boss growled, stepping back behind the remains of an old stone pillar. His breaths were quick, sharp. He looked around, searching for a better position.
"Too bad," Soren said, walking forward through the dust. "I'm gonna have to shoot again. You've killed too many people."
Before he could aim, the boss ducked to the right, moved behind a pile of broken crates, and rolled across the dirt into cover.
Soren chased, gun up.
"Bullet."
The moment Soren fired, the boss jumped out from behind cover.
"Bullet barrage!"
The sky lit up with gunfire. Bullets tore through the area like a storm. They hit walls, shattered stone, and bounced off metal scraps scattered in the wreckage of the camp. One bullet hit Soren in the leg. Another slammed into his left hand.
He dropped down, one knee on the ground, blood dripping from his wounds.
But even hurt, he smiled.
Blood leaked from his mouth.
"Judgment shot."
"Bullet shot!"
Another flash of beams. They clashed mid-air again. The shock made the ground shake, a crater forming where the beams collided. Debris rained down, smoke swirling through the air.
Soren darted left, circling the broken wall of a burned house. The boss ran right, trying to get to higher ground on a pile of stacked crates.
Their eyes met through the smoke.
Soren didn't wait.
He rushed straight forward, charging over loose stone and splintered wood. The boss fired again. Bullets whizzed past Soren's head.
Soren closed the gap.
He reached the boss.
Then he raised his gun, aimed right at his chest.
"Judgment shot!"
The beam exploded point-blank. The boss flew backward, crashing into a wooden fence that shattered on impact. Blood poured down his side. His face twisted with pain.
He dropped to one knee, coughing hard, spitting red into the dirt.
"If I'm gonna die..." he whispered, dragging himself up, "I'm at least takin' somebody with me."
He turned, locking eyes on the girl. She was behind a broken wagon, watching in terror.
The boss lifted his gun.
"Judgment shot!"
A massive beam fired toward her, tearing up the ground as it went.
Soren's eyes widened. He pushed himself forward.
He jumped.
And threw his body in front of the girl.
Boom.
The blast hit him clean. It tore through the dirt, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the ground. Smoke and light exploded in all directions.
He didn't move.
His body lay between the girl and the blast zone, smoke rising from his back.
The boss limped forward, gun trembling in his hand. He aimed it at Soren's head.
"You should've finished me," he said. "You should've turned around."
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Silence.
Then, behind him, a voice.
"Shadow slash."
A line of black light tore through the air.
The bandit boss froze.
Blood poured down his chest.
He fell forward, lifeless, and hit the ground.
Soren looked up slowly.
A figure stood there, sword in hand, silver hair shining under the cracked sky. He didn't say anything. Just stood over the fallen enemy.
Soren coughed, trying to sit up.
Soren tried to sit up, but his body was giving out. His eyes were heavy, chest burned, leg torn up.
He looked up at the silver-haired man standing in front of him.
"Who... who are you?" he asked, barely able to keep his eyes open.
The man smiled.
"My name is Eidon."
Soren blinked slowly. "Is that... is that even your real name?"
Eidon gave a small shrug. "Does it matter?"
He crouched beside the boy and tilted his head.
"How were you able to copy his concept like that?"
Soren didn't answer.
He just smiled.
Then everything went black, and he fainted.
Eidon stood up, glancing at the boy's unconscious body. He looked amused.
"Lucky me," he said softly. "I found a unique one."
Footsteps echoed from the trees. Loud. Many of them.
Eidon looked up.
Around fifty bandits stepped out from the shadows, weapons drawn, armor clanking. They all froze when they saw the body of their boss on the ground — dead. Burned. Sliced open.
They looked from the body to Eidon. Then to the boy on the ground.
They surrounded them in a wide circle.
Eidon sighed and stretched his arms.
"I'm in a good mood right now," he said. "So I'll give you one chance. Run away."
The bandits hesitated.
Then one of them saw the silver hair. The sword. The smile.
His face went pale.
"It's... it's Eidon," he whispered.
Another one backed up.
"No... no way. That's Eidon the... the Grim Reaper."
"Eidon of the Black Halo," another whispered. "The guild master..."
One by one, they all started to panic.
But a few of them didn't move. One at the back yelled, "He's just one guy! There's fifty of us!"
Eidon smiled wider. He stepped forward, eyes cold.
"I guess some of you still think you have a chance."
He raised his hand. A black mask formed in it, rising from shadows.
He placed it over his face slowly.
The air turned cold.
Then he whispered,
"Shadow Reaper — Ambra Fang."
The world went quiet for a second.
Then a black slash ripped through the air.
It moved like lightning, splitting the ground, the trees, the bandits.
Heads flew. Torsos hit the dirt. The scream didn't even finish before half of them were gone — cut down in an instant.
The others stood frozen.
Then they fell, one by one.
All fifty were dead.
Only silence remained.
Eidon looked down at the blood on the ground, then back at the boy lying unconscious behind him.
He removed the mask.
And smiled.