Old Varran District, Arora City
The Old Varran District was like a stain to the perfect Arora city, a place filled with crimes and criminals. Narrow streets were lined with crumbling buildings, their walls soiled and weathered.
One of them was a two-story building with walls covered in graffiti and windows boarded.
To the small-time gang inside, it was home and hideout to celebrate their latest score that landed them huge money.
Upstairs, in a smoky room, seven guys sat on mismatched chairs and couches. A TV played in the background that got ignored completely.
The crew laughed loudly, hyped from a job that had paid a big amount.
A slender man with a shaved head leaned back in a chair and boasted, "Easiest job ever this is." He opened a beer. "That child was particularly terrified. He didn't bother to fight back."
The others chuckled, clearly enjoying themselves.
One big guy shook his head. "I don't understand. For some scrawny schoolboy, a million dollars? He was incapable of even punching. Who would spend that much money on a nobody?"
Their leader, a strong looking man in his thirties, was the center of attention as he sat on an expensive looking torn couch. He swirled a whiskey glass that was much too elegant for that place. His cool demeanor stood out from the noisy crew.
He sipped slowly.
His voice was sharp and smooth as he said, "Don't know, and I don't care."
The room erupted in cheers and bottles clinking. The leader smirked while leaning back, savoring his drink.
The lights abruptly went out suddenly.
The television went black. A gloomy silence settled upon the room.
"Son of a—" Someone muttered, "Power cut again? I swear, this district is cursed."
He switched on the flashlight, lighting the room with a small beam. Others followed similarly, exposing leftover food and strewn cans under their lights.
Another, younger, barely in his twenties, grumbled, "Hey, where's my phone?" He frowned and patted his pockets. "I swear it was right here."
With a laugh, the large man swung his flashlight beam. "Probably dropped it when we were dealing with that kid. Left it in the storage room with his corpse, huh?"
While searching the floor, the young man kicked cans aside and swore. "Screw this. I'm heading to the restroom on the way." After grabbing his flashlight, he made his way to the door.
He entered the dim, narrow hall while grumbling about his missing phone. He's walking to the restroom at the end of the hall.
Then he heard slow, soft footsteps behind him. He stopped, heart pounding and the torch trembling in his hand.
He turned around and focused the light in the hallway and saw a rat running across the floor.
Wiping sweat from his face, he let out a shaking sigh. He turned back to the restroom and muttered, "Stupid rat."
He froze again as he raised the torch once more.
A figure standing a few feet away.
It was a young man, his crimson eyes glowing dimly in the light, his black hair dripping blood. His expression was unreadable and his face was pale. Even though his uniform was ripped and covered in blood, he maintained a tall, composed stance.
"Boo." Ryo whispered.
The gang member's mouth opened to yell as his eyes grew wide. But Ryo moved before he could say anything.
[ALERT.]
[HOSTILITY DETECTED.]
In a flash, Ryo closed the gap, with a knife in his hand that was taken from the room where he'd woken. The blade sliced clean across the man's throat before he could react.
The torch slipped from his fingers, smashing on the floor as he collapsed, blood pooling around him in a shiny puddle.
[TARGET NEUTRALIZED.]
[REMAINING HOSTILES: 6.]
Ryo stood straight, his icy crimson eyes locked on the door at the hall's end while wiping the knife on his torn sleeve.
—-
The air in the room grew thick with unease as the young guy left to retrieve his phone and use the toilet, still haven't returned. The remaining six men shifted uncomfortably, their earlier bravado fading.
They feel something's wrong happening here.
The leader slammed his glass of whiskey down on the table. He leaned forward and growled, "Where the hell is that idiot?"
A lanky man among them laughed uneasily. "Calm down, boss. Probably, he tripped over his own feet. You know of his aloofness."
The leader's piercing gaze scanned the room as his frown deepened. "This bothers me. There's a problem." He pointed to two of his men, a wiry, slender man and a bearded brute. "Go look for him."
The two men exchanged a glance and grabbed their weapons and headed for the door. They stepped into the dark hallway, their phone torches casting jittery beams across the hallways.
Finding him didn't take long.
The young gang member lay sprawled on the dirty floor with his throat sliced open. His broken torch lay a few feet away, and his lifeless eyes gazed blankly at the ceiling.
The bearded man paused. "What on earth went wrong here?" His voice was shaky and low as he cursed. "Who did this?"
The slender man crouched next to the corpse, scanning the darkness. "It looks like he was attacked. But who? The only person present is—"
A new sound reached them, soft, deliberate footsteps coming from the darkness farther down the hallway, and his words caught in his throat.
The two men tensed, their torch beams swinging wildly. "Who's there?" the bearded guy growled. "Show yourself!"
The footsteps grew louder, closer, and unhurried. The rats in the walls rustled.
Then—
—--
Back in the room, the laughter had died away and had been replaced by a nagging fear. The four members of the gang stood still, staring at the dim hallway where their two friends had vanished.
The leader's glass of whiskey remained untouched on the table. His hand crept toward the gun as he muttered, "Something's wrong."
Tension broke as a raw, horrid scream tore through the hallway's silence. With their hands shaking and their hearts pounding, the men leaped and snatched up a shotgun, knives, and pipes.
Their breaths become rapid and uneven.
Slowly, the door creaked open. A figure emerged from the darkness, and the men stepped back.
Their stomachs dropped as they saw him—the same kid they'd captured, beaten, and left for dead with his throat cut. He ought to have been a corpse in a storeroom.
But the terrified, crying boy they knew was no longer there. Something cold, something off, stood in his place.
Ryo stood barefoot, his ripped school uniform soaked in blood, lit by the shaky glow of their phone flashlights. He stood differently, exuding a subdued menace that pervaded the space.
He had a knife in one hand, its blade soaked fresh blood. In the other, he held the bearded man's severed head, still dripping. The group's confidence fell apart as the sight struck them like a punch.
This was not the cowardly, frail child who had pleaded for his life, Ryo Veskar. A blood-soaked hunter straight out of a nightmare, the man in front of them was something wild.
One of them let out a scream. "No! This isn't true! We saw you're dying! We killed you!"
Another staggered back, his shotgun trembling in his hand. "Is this a ghost? Nobody ever rises from the grave!
Like a predator scouting its prey, Ryo's crimson eyes swept over them, icy and hollow.
The robotic voice of the system echoed in his mind again.
[SCANNING…]
[HOSTILE TARGETS DETECTED: 4]
Blue rings appeared over each gang member's head in his vision, glowing faintly, marking them as threats. His face stayed blank, like he was looking at bugs to squash.
Ryo flicked the severed head forward. It rolled to a stop at the sofas feet after hitting the floor with a wet thud. The leader's gun was half-raised and his breath caught, but he couldn't move.
Ryo stood still, his thoughts unclear and foggy. Where was he? Why did his body feel so lighter, younger, but strange? Who were these men? The answers slipped away, but one thing is clear: he had to kill them without mercy.
A large, shaven-headed gang member lost it after staring at his friend's severed head. His voice was full of fear and anger as he yelled, "You little brat!"
"Where'd you get the guts to do this? Like the last time, I'll kill you again!" He charged at Ryo with his machete, the blade catching the flashlight glow as it swung.
Ryo's body responded spontaneously, moving like lightning. Ryo ducked just in time to avoid the machete's blade slicing through the air.
When the man realized Ryo was behind him, it was too late, and his face twisted in shock. Ryo didn't hesitate. He pierced his knife deep into the man's throat.
A wet, choking sound came as the guy collapsed, blood pooling under him.
[ALERT.]
[TARGET NEUTRALIZED.]
[REMAINING HOSTILES: 3.]
The other gang members froze, faces pale and weapons shaking in their hands.
Ryo stood tall, his red eyes locking onto them. His voice, rough and unfamiliar in his throat. "Where am I?" he muttered, almost to himself. "And who are you?"
The leader's hand twitched.
His breath came short with panic. The shotgun trembled in the gang member's grip.
"No more," he whispered, voice cracking. "No more of this you damn monster."
He raised the gun with terror, and pulled the trigger.
The blast hits Ryo's face, slamming him against the wall behind him. For a moment they thought they killed him.
The gang member lowered the shotgun, panting, eyes locked on the motionless figure.
Then—