The shadows howled like a storm breaking loose.
All around them, the monsters crept closer—some crawling, others towering over the buildings, every single one eager to consume the two injured vigilantes standing back-to-back.
Bunnyman stood, trembling but upright.
"You good?" Deadknight asked, his voice raspy.
Bunnyman wiped blood from his mouth. "No choice. Gotta be."
The shadows surged forward all at once—a tsunami of living nightmares.
And Bunnyman and Deadknight charged right into them.
Fists flew. Bones cracked. Screams echoed.
Every step forward felt like a mile. Every punch cost them more than the last.
But they fought. With everything they had left.
They aimed for Mr. Crow—but the shadows kept blocking their path.
After minutes of relentless struggle, the two were backed into a wall, barely holding it together. Blood stained the pavement.
"There's too many," Deadknight grunted. "We need another way."
Bunnyman's breathing was shallow. "Fire. They're scared of it… but my lighter's dry."
Deadknight looked around, desperation flashing in his eyes. "Doesn't need to be a flame. Just one spark."
Bunnyman stared at him. "How?"
"We need something combustible. Anything."
Bunnyman scanned the street, then pointed. "Cars. Petrol."
Deadknight smirked. "Perfect. You get the fuel—I'll hold them off."
"Be careful," Bunnyman said, then ducked and sprinted for the nearest wrecked vehicle.
Deadknight roared and launched himself into the horde, swinging punches, kicking with every last bit of strength.
Bunnyman found the car, broke open the fuel line, and filled a torn bottle with leaking petrol. Then he ripped part of his suit, wrapped it around a wooden stick, and soaked it.
He held up his lighter.
Click.
No flame.
Click.
Nothing.
He gritted his teeth, hands trembling. "Come on…"
Behind him, Deadknight shouted, "Don't give up! That's our last hope!"
Click… fffflick…
A spark.
Then—fire.
The torch blazed.
The shadows screeched and scattered, their bodies warping away from the light.
Bunnyman turned, holding the flame high. "Let's go!"
He ran to Deadknight's side, clearing the path with fire.
Together, they forced their way to Mr. Crow.
The villain stood calmly, arms folded, shadows writhing behind him.
"I'm impressed," he said with a sneer. "But can you really defeat me… in your condition?"
Deadknight stepped forward. "I'll handle him. Bunnyman—keep the shadows off us."
Bunnyman nodded, holding the torch like a sword.
Then the real fight began.
Deadknight and Mr. Crow clashed like titans.
Blow after blow echoed through the ruins of Devil's Side.
Flesh and fury. Rage and resilience.
Behind them, Bunnyman swung the torch, pushing back every shadow that dared to come close.
He refused to let them near.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Both fighters were slowing—breathing heavy, cuts and bruises covering them.
But Deadknight didn't stop.
He saw Mr. Crow stumble. Just for a second.
That's all he needed.
Crack! A right hook to the jaw.
Thud! A knee to the ribs.
Smash! A final punch that sent Mr. Crow flying into the pavement.
He didn't get back up.
Deadknight fell to one knee, panting. "He's down…"