The fog was so thick that night it seemed to swallow the city whole. Streetlamps glowed like pale ghosts in the distance, their light smothered by the mist. Inside the crumbling apartment, Ayu paced the floor, her knives glinting faintly in her hands. She couldn't stay still—the silence pressed against her, heavy and waiting.
Luv, on the other hand, was perfectly still. He sat by the window, his black eyes scanning the street below. A pistol rested on the table beside him, a second blade tucked in his belt. His breathing was calm, steady, like a predator waiting in tall grass.
"They're late," Ayu muttered, breaking the silence. "For a gang that prides itself on being ruthless, Crimson Fang sure takes their time."
"They're not late," Luv said without moving. "They're patient. They want us restless before they strike."
As if summoned by his words, the sound came—distant at first, then closer. Boots. Dozens of them, crunching over gravel and broken glass.
Ayu froze, her heartbeat quickening. "They're here."
The door didn't creak open, it exploded. A steel boot smashed it off its hinges, and three figures stormed in with rifles raised. Crimson fangs were painted across their masks, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
Luv was already moving. His gun barked once, twice, three times. The first man's head snapped back, blood splattering the wall. The second fell clutching his throat. The third managed a single burst of gunfire before a knife buried itself between his ribs—Ayu's throw, clean and perfect.
"More are coming," Luv said flatly, sliding another clip into place.
No sooner had he spoken than windows shattered. Shards of glass rained down as shadows dropped inside—five, ten, fifteen men. The tiny apartment became a cage of death.
Luv moved like a shadow, gunfire flashing from his hands. Each shot precise, each step calculated. He shot one man in the knee, then drove a blade through his throat before spinning to crush another's skull against the wall. His black eyes never wavered—every motion was efficient, merciless.
Ayu was fire beside him. She ducked under a blade, her knives flashing in wide arcs, painting the air with blood. She kicked one man's legs out from under him and drove both blades into his chest before spinning to slash the wrist of another, sending his gun clattering to the floor.
"Faster, Luv!" she shouted over the chaos, a wild grin on her bloodied face.
"You're slowing down," he answered coldly, driving a bullet through an attacker's eye.
They fought back-to-back again, moving like a single creature with two hearts. Whenever one staggered, the other struck. Whenever one was exposed, the other shielded.
And yet, the Crimson Fang weren't weak. These weren't the thugs from the Black Crown. They were disciplined, brutal, and they came in waves.
Gunfire thundered, smoke filling the room. Luv flipped the table onto its side, dragging Ayu behind it as bullets tore through the plaster walls.
"They'll corner us," Ayu hissed, pressing her back against the overturned table.
Luv checked his last magazine. Barely a handful of bullets remained. He met her gaze, calm even in the storm. "Then we break the corner before they close it."
Before she could answer, he vaulted over the table, guns blazing. His sudden rush startled the enemy, dropping two before they could react. He closed the distance to the third, slamming his head into the man's nose with a sickening crunch, then using the corpse as a shield against the next volley of bullets.
Ayu followed, knives drawn, eyes burning with fury. She leapt onto a thug's back, slashing his throat wide open, then hurled herself into the next, driving both blades into his chest so deep her knuckles hit bone.
Blood sprayed across her face, and she licked it from her lip with a savage smile. "This is what I live for!"
Just when the room began to clear, the last wave arrived. The floorboards shook as heavy boots stomped inside.
A massive figure stepped through the smoke, armored chest gleaming under the broken lights. His mask bore the Crimson Fang insignia, but unlike the others, his weapon was no rifle—it was a massive axe, its blade stained black from old blood.
The other gang members parted to let him through.
"Boss," one whispered.
The man's voice was a low growl. "You've caused enough trouble. The girl isn't yours to save. And you…" He pointed the axe at Ayu. "You're too ambitious for your own good."
Ayu grinned, knives spinning in her hands. "Finally, someone worth my time."
Luv stepped forward, gun aimed directly at the giant's chest. His voice was steady, cold. "He's mine."
The axe-wielder laughed. "Then come and die, boy."
The clash was inevitable.