The moon glowed above the quiet town, its pale light spilling through the window of a small inn. Inside, a young man with a well-built frame sat by a wooden table, the soft lamplight brushing against his face. His blue eyes moved steadily across the pages of an old book.
His name was Caleb Rulercase. A nineteen year old boy.
Caleb muttered in a low, calm voice as he read.
"...Their territories aren't too far apart."
He exhaled, shutting the book with a soft thud.
"If only the East had a real government… we wouldn't be drowning in hydras."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling — only for his view to be blocked by the unmistakable outline of a woman's chest hovering over him.
"You're overworking yourself," a gentle feminine voice said above him.
"You should come out and grab some drinks."
It was Rudy — his wife. Whom was one year older than him.
Her long, black, multi-braided hair brushed against his cheeks as she bent over him. Caleb smirked and rose from the chair, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt.
"You always choose the perfect time to tempt me into drinking."
"Come on," Rudy smiled sweetly, "we don't want all the seats at the bar taken, do we?"
She stepped back. Caleb chuckled.
"I place dibs on four rounds tonight," Rudy announced proudly.
Caleb jolted slightly, but kept a straight face. Beneath his exterior, his soul trembled.
"I won't lose this time," he said.
"You always say that," she teased.
They left their room and descended to the first floor. The large hall smelled of old wood and cheap alcohol. Warm lamps hung from wooden pillars, illuminating groups of people eating, drinking, laughing. Bottles filled the shelves behind a small bar.
Caleb and Rudy sat on two high stools at the counter. A chubby old man in a worn white shirt approached them with a crackling voice.
"What'll it be?"
Caleb rested an elbow on the table, tapping the wooden surface with his free hand. He looked to Rudy.
"You brought us down here. What do you want?"
Rudy scanned the shelves, pouting at the overwhelming choices. Then she flicked several silver coins toward the old man.
"Hmmm… seven bottles of red wine for sixty cents."
The people around them froze. Even the air seemed to stop.
Rudy grinned at Caleb mischievously, her eyes arcing upward.
Caleb felt death's cold fingers stroke his spine… but he kept his composure.
The old man turned pale. His spirit practically drifted out of his body.
"Hey, old man. You still alive?" Rudy waved a hand in front of his face.
"Y-you… thief…" he muttered. "Trying to… rob me…"
The old man suddenly snapped back into his skin — then exploded.
"DO YOU HAVE NO SHAME?! ORDERING EXPENSIVE WINE FOR THAT LOW PRICE?! YOU DAMNED HAAAG!!"
Rudy's veins twitched. Her eyes bulged.
"What'd you say?"
"Damned hag?!" she growled.
"Say that again...I DARE YOU!!"
Caleb grabbed her before she could launch across the counter, pinning her to the floor.
"That's enough, Rudy," he said with a sigh. "Let's go."
He pulled her up and guided her out of the bar. The old man watched them leave, clicking his tongue.
"Tsk. How obnoxious…"
Back in their room, Caleb sat her on the bed and dragged a chair forward. He rubbed his forehead.
"You should've just bargained nicely… not jumped at him over a few coins."
Rudy was silent. She didn't say a word and then laid down on the bed.
He stood and reached for his katana leaning against the wall.
"I'll take a walk. Get some sleep."
After apologizing to the old man downstairs, he stepped outside.
The streets were alive — footsteps, voices, and the rhythmic clatter of horses pulling carts. He walked alone, eventually turning into a narrow alleyway that smelled of goats and damp dirt.
His boots tapped softly against the stone path, echoes stretching deeper into the alley. After a short walk, the passage opened into a small square. Four tiny huts stood at each corner, surrounding a decaying mansion.
Caleb stared at the second-floor windows of the mansion, taking a slow, deep breath.
"So this is the Hoodlums' Cove," he murmured.
"Interesting… I hope you don't disappoint me, Gerald Zin."
The mansion door creaked open as Caleb stepped into the vast, dust-choked living room. Cobwebs hung like curtains, and the screeching of mice echoed somewhere deep within the shadows. He reached for the lamp beside the door; it flickered twice before the dim glow pushed back the darkness.
He walked across the room and onto the wide lawn behind it. His boots pressed soft thuds into the cold, silent ground. Only a sliver of lamplight stretched across the lawn, fading long before it reached the door standing at the far end.
Caleb grabbed the doorknob. A blinding flash of light washed over him the instant he opened it.
Inside, rugged men with scarred faces turned toward him. Some were bald, some wore torn boots and brown jeans, others shirted in faded hoodlum tees. Their gazes were stiff, unreadable.
From the far end of the room, a deep voice spoke without looking at him.
"You never get tired, do ya? I've said no a dozen times, yet here ya're again."
A dark figure with black bushy long hair sat in front of a flickering lantern. Slowly, he turned his head, revealing sharp green eyes and the rough face of a man in his thirties.
Gerald Zin — the Hoodlum King of Khan Town.
Caleb tossed a bottle of wine. Zin caught it midair with practiced ease and slammed it on the table. Caleb walked past the bulky men, his icy blue gaze brushing over each of them before taking a seat beside Zin.
He slid a wooden cup toward him.
"This is my last request," Caleb said, accepting a poured cup of wine and drinking with a steady hand.
Zin narrowed his eyes.
"Why are ya so damned obsessed with wiping out Hydras?"
He took a gulp of wine himself, exhaling loudly before grinning.
"Ya've got a wife, ya know. Khan Town is safe enough. Ya can actually settle down."
He chuckled.
"Ya probably haven't even kissed her. Honestly — ya're a disaster."
Caleb ignored the jab, creddling his cup.
"First of all, Rudy never complained. She chose this path herself."
"On the way here, we saw Hydras."
Zin suddenly belched — loudly. Caleb winced, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"My bad," Zin said with a shameless grin.
Caleb sighed deeply but continued.
"We passed several villages. All deserted."
He paused.
"Bodies everywhere. Women, old men… children."
His grip tightened on his cup.
Zin watched him quietly for a moment, then drank again.
"Don't drink too much," Caleb said firmly.
"You'll drop your guard eventually. You always do."
"Give it a rest, would ya?" Zin groaned, brows twisting in irritation.
He stared at the wine in his cup.
"More people dying every second… damn bastards."
His voice softened.
"Assuming I accept ya insane offer… and we actually go after every Hydra out there…"
He took another drink.
"What's the plan, Caleb?"
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"We're deep east. Far from any state region. The federal government practically pretends we don't exist. And our prime minister? Pfft — that geezer's probably dead already."
Caleb slammed his cup down.
Zin jolted.
"Oi! What's the matter?!"
Caleb's voice sharpened.
"We don't need our leaders' permission to do the right thing."
He nodded toward Zin's men.
"They're trained. Well trained."
Zin smirked.
"Of course they are. Ya don't get into my gang unless ya worth something."
Caleb gave him a flat look.
"That explanation isn't helping your image."
He leaned forward, voice steady and filled with fire.
"Zin… join my squad. We're small now, but one day we'll become an army — one strong enough to make the Hydras tremble at the sound of our name."
Zin stared at him for a long moment.
Then muttered softly:
"…what the hell?"