Yellow Maw was being systematically dismantled. Every strike from the boy left his arms numb and his skin peeling away in scorched strips.
"Why aren't you helping, you bastards?!" Yellow Maw roared, his voice cracking with desperation."
Dammit, Fatty! Can't you see I'm preparing something?!" the Cowboy shouted back.
He was crouched by the debris, hauling a long, weathered wooden crate into the light. He wrenched it open, revealing a heavy-bore rifle and a bandolier of oversized cartridges. The Cowboy slotted a round into the chamber with a metallic clack and leveled the sights at Kenji.
In the center of the hall, Yellow Maw and Kenji were locked in a savage exchange. Yellow Maw could no longer match the boy's intensity. He triggered Blink to create breathing room, but as he tried to catch a jagged breath, a fist intercepted his face.
The impact shattered Yellow Maw's nose and cheekbone. The pirate skidded backward, digging his heels into the stone to stop his momentum. He spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, his face a swollen ruin.
Kenji coiled his muscles to launch a finishing blow, but before he could move, a heavy-caliber bullet tore through his skull. His head snapped to the side with the sheer kinetic force of the shot.
Slowly, Kenji turned his gaze toward the Cowboy. His eyes were no longer orange; they were pits of absolute darkness.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" the Cowboy shrieked. Is he undead?
The wound began to bubble and hiss. The lead slug was forcibly ejected by the knitting flesh, clattering to the floor. Kenji vanished, reappearing instantly in front of the Cowboy. The man fired again—and again—and again. Each bullet slowed the boy down, punching holes through his torso, but Kenji didn't stop.
The Cowboy tossed the empty rifle and reached for his revolvers, intending to Blink away. He was too slow. Kenji closed the distance as if he had bypassed space itself.
He caught the Cowboy's head in a crushing grip. The shimmering heat distortion around Kenji intensified, warping the air. The Cowboy fired his revolvers point-blank into Kenji's chest, screaming in terror as he looked into those hollow, dark eyes.
The butler unleashed a flurry of wind blades and spears, but Kenji ignored them. He raised his free hand and brought a colossal fist down on the Cowboy's face, driving the man's head into the stone floor with the weight of a falling mountain.
The Cowboy's head burst like a ripe watermelon. Brain matter and skull fragments sprayed the ancient floor.
The butler and Yellow Maw watched in paralyzed horror. Kenji rose, his arm crimson with gore from his knuckles to his elbow. He began a slow, rhythmic walk toward the remaining two men.
Panicking, the butler pulled back his sleeve to reveal a string of prayer beads etched with glowing green runes. He channeled every ounce of his remaining Hashi into the medium.
"Great Arcane Art: Sky-Fall Lance!"Massive, rotating spears of wind shrieked toward Kenji. The boy launched himself forward, tanking the magical assault head-on. The shimmering aura around him flickered and dispersed under the pressure.
Both the butler and Yellow Maw were gasping, their Hashi reserves bone-dry and their stamina spent. Kenji took one final step after the last spear dissipated, then faltered. He fell to his knees, coughing up thick, dark blood.
A horrific cry of agony tore from his throat. He clutched his stomach, his body spasming as the "Black Star" power began to devour him. He curled into a ball, his clothes reduced to scorched rags. He began to vomit violently, his skin feeling as though it were being flayed by invisible razors.
Yellow Maw watched the boy's collapse and let out a manic, relieved laugh. He hobbled toward the shivering child.
"I guess that power boost came with a price," Yellow Maw spat. He brought a heavy boot down on Kenji's frail frame, stomping again and again. "Damn you, you little bastard!"
After several minutes of venting his rage, Yellow Maw turned back toward the butler. "Okay, pass me something to finish this—"
The words died in his throat.
The butler was silent because the butler was dead. His decapitated head sat several feet away from his slumped body. Standing over him was a short, cloaked figure leaning casually on a blood-slicked machete.
Yellow Maw began to shake. It wasn't a wave of power that terrified him—it was the aura. It was a cold, suffocating presence he recognized from his darkest nightmares.
"Found you, Piggy," the figure said. The voice was melodious and sweet, yet it carried a weight of pure, unadulterated malice.