Chapter 51: Dead Reunion
Memories slammed into him. Faces, names, scraps of nights and deals that weren't his yet lived like they were. All of it came unbidden as he stared at the humans before him.
Seo-jin's gang.
The Dead Hands.
"Boss!"
The first voice carried from a young runner, early twenties, blonde hair, sharp eyes. Dirk. One of his top boys, if memory held true. His coat hung loose, frayed at the cuffs. His jeans were no better—faded, knees scuffed white, threads pulling loose. Nothing about him stood out, nothing worth remembering. Except for the twin hammers in his grip.
Azakh-Tur realized he'd been staring too long, slack like an idiot. He straightened, forced his jaw tight, and threw out the only words he could think of.
"...In the flesh."
Dirk hesitated for a moment, then moved closer.
"Boss, you hurt? Hey—Lynn, get over here—!"
"I'm fine. Just… still recovering."
That one word stripped the doubt off Dirk's face. His smile broke wide, eyes wet in the corners like he might cry.
"I can't believe it. We thought you were dead. Even Min swore you were fucked. How in the seven hells did you make it back?"
More memories surged. When he met the real Seo-jin, caught in a flash of light he'd thought was a gate. Not a gate...a rift. A tear the Network couldn't hold, a wound between realms. The bastard had been dragged into the Fae world and caged for almost a year. His captures drugged him, fogged his mind, dulled his senses.
Lucky for him, that fog still clung when Azakh-Tur found him, killed him, and took his place.
Now the gang's eyes fixed on him, hungry for the tale. Anticipation burned in their stares, irritating him more than the itch of Soul Sense. Looking at their green auras, his lip curled as he suddenly remembered something.
"Why do you all look like shit? What happened?"
His voice hit hard, stance squaring without thought. He remembered, he wasn't some lost straggler. He was the Boss. The weight of command cut through his tone, and Dirk snapped straight, eyes sharp, expression shifting from awe to business.
"We were making a delivery when the dungeon dropped. We didn't have time to get out of range before it set."
Dirk's glance slid to the eight wounded behind him. Blood-soaked bandages. Limping wrecks. All injured.
"The second we spawned in...we were attacked."
Azakh-Tur's brow tightened. Using Seo-jin's knowledge, he knew you never spawned on top of monsters. This only left one answer.
"Who?"
[User is a natural. Leadership seems… instinctual. Unexpected.]
'Shut it.'
Dirk shifted, tugging at his coat.
"The Red Scars."
The name snapped through him. Should've meant nothing, but his grip twitched, Butcher's Wrath near tearing itself loose. Even though he kept his bloodlight in check, the gang flinched back from the heat rolling off him.
Bloodlust. Seemed his body was very interested in these Red Scars. Something he now shared to an annoying extent.
He studied the humans. Broken meat. Not one above E-Rank...he didn't need Inspect to know. He could smell the weakness. Street clothes for armor, half-rusted steel for weapons, fear in their eyes. To him, they were prey. But even as prey they might hold some worth.
"How'd you survive?"
"John. His skill saved us."
Dirk's hand lifted toward a round man in his forties. Balding. Brown skin. Eyes wide and shaking. Azakh-Tur remembered him—worthless in a fight, but carried the one trick. Fog to hide, to run.
"What else?"
A simple cloud wasn't enough to explain why they still breathed.
Dirk's eyes went wide, then darted. He swallowed and forced it out.
"Elderwarren Rabbits. Two adults. They attacked and gave us a chance."
The human looked almost proud saying it. Proud of crawling out alive behind the efforts of beasts. Azakh-Tur's stomach turned. Weak bodies. Weaker wills. Pathetic in stance and spirit, yet chained to him by blood and name. His men...
And one woman.
At the back, red hair caught his eye. Head tilting as he realized she wasn't one he remembered.
"You Lynn?"
Her face flushed as she stepped forward, voice too loud, brittle with nerves.
"Yes, boss!"
The heat in her cheeks, the hair, the shape of her, all of it tugged something from the body he wore. Slender shape, shoulders pulled back like she wanted to look harder than she was. No bulk in the arms, no weight in the hips. She tried to hold herself stiff, but the softness still showed. Red hair caught in the glow, a flicker of color in the gloom. A twitch low in his groin answered, memory bleeding up from Seo-jin's flesh...redheads. Apparently his taste.
"What can you do?"
She froze. Nobody asks about your abilities straight out like that, not unless they wanted a fight. But this was her boss, so she couldn't hold back.
"I can heal. Not much, but enough. And I shoot straight."
Her hand brushed the pistol at her hip. Black grip, well-oiled.
"Let me see."
Azakh-Tur reached, fingers curling toward the gun.
"Yes, boss."
She fumbled to unclip it, but a scream split the air before she could draw.
Every head snapped to the tunnel mouth. A man staggered there, blood soaking his chest, voice breaking as he shrieked. His armor bore three red claw marks. The Red Scars.
His group tensed, weapons rising as they surged to cover him, circling their boss like meat shielding steel. Azakh-Tur almost laughed. They dared to guard him.
Then the Red Scars head slid off his neck.
Flesh tore wet, bone cracked, and behind him the Elderwarren Rabbit shoved through, grinning with a mouth of teeth built for stripping meat from bone.
"Fuck, they wiped! Get back, Boss! We'll hold it—"
"Now this is more like it."
Dirk didn't hear the weight in his tone. They thought he was addressing the rabbit. He was. But he was also speaking to them. At least they had the sense to throw themselves forward before him. That was worth something.
The second adult rabbit crowded the entrance, claws gouging stone. Azakh-Tur—no... Seo-jin—stepped past his men and called Butcher's Wrath.
"What the fuck?! Whoa—!"
"Holy shit!"
"Lynn, stop staring—!"
"Silence."
His voice cracked like a whip. The humans shut up. Even the rabbits faltered.
Skin split. Bone ground and snapped into place. The cleavers crawled out of him, handles jutting from raw palm as meat knitted around them.
Some gagged. Others went pale. Dirk and Lynn recovered first, but all eyes dragged to the twin mouths jutting from his back, twitching like living growths.
Dirk swallowed, hammer in each hand.
"What do we do?"
Azakh-Tur stood between the beasts and his gang, cleavers glowing as bloodlight pulsed over their edges. His grin stretched wide.
"Watch."
Hellfire ignited, black flame rolling down his arms and igniting his blades. Fiendskin crawled tight over his flesh, bone plating sealing beneath.
[-1SM]
[Hellfire // Activated]
[+10% Damage]
[-2SM]
[Fiendskin // Activated]
[+5% Physical Damage Reduction]
[Cooldown // 60sec]
Black fire spat shadows. Hunger lit his eyes. He wanted them to see. To witness. The need burst inside him, sudden and feral.
A desire to show off.
[Recommendation: be careful.]
The warning wasn't needed. Their outlines burned yellow to his sight, his equal in strength, maybe. But they were still beasts...and he was beyond that now.
He dropped low and lunged.
'Shit—!'
The body faltered, foot clipping stone. A stumble. He'd never fought in this shape before. Confidence dipped, just a fraction.
The rabbits didn't wait.
Skin sagged in wet folds across their faces, seams splitting open as eyes blinked through. Jaws split wide into a three-pronged maw, teeth serrated and dripping, their roar bursting the chamber. Water leapt off the stone floor in sheets.
Not kits. No softness left. Just meat-grinders on legs.
Rock split. Dust exploded. They were gone.
"Where—?!"
Instinct snapped and he dropped. Air shredded above his skull. Both had already closed, one aiming to take his head, the other his chest.
Time slowed. Teeth. Claws. Shadows closing.
'They're slow.'
Rrrip! Whoosh!
Steel flashed. His cleaver tore an ear from the first. The second slipped back, dust streaking its hide.
He grinned, teeth wet in the black firelight.
"You're quick on your feet…but you slow down to attack."
Hellfire ticked. Soulmass bled. He still had plenty to burn.
The rabbits froze, sniffing the air, tasting his heat. Their eyes twitched, hungry but cautious now.
This time, he didn't give them the chance as he surged forward. The charge shattered the stone beneath.
[-1 SM // Hellfire Upkeep]
They met head-on. Claws raked, teeth snapped, but almost immediately, every strike grew easier to read. He slipped through gaps, steel carving arcs that bit into hide. Fighting beasts was his specialty.
The rabbits deflected with hooked claws, shoving blades aside, snapping at his throat and gut. Dust swirled, rock split, the chamber ringing with steel and bone.
[-1 SM // Hellfire Upkeep]
Dirk stood frozen, eyes wide. Shock, fear, confusion tearing across his face as he tried to follow the blur. Lynn, though...her grin split ear to ear, eyes locked on Wohan Seo-jin like he was some god dragged from blood and fire. Her breath hitched with every strike, body trembling with giddy awe. Her first time seeing the Boss in action.
The rabbits pressed harder, but the rhythm shifted. His patience stretched seconds into openings. Every time they leapt, he was already there—
Blood hit stone.
A spray across the ground in front of the humans. Gasps snapped from their throats. Seo-jin's chest was split open, ribs flashing white, blood pumping.
But his cleavers were already buried in one beast, carving through the elbow, tearing an arm free. The other claw raked down his guard, sparks screaming off steel.
The humans lurched forward. A step, two—then stopped dead. Eyes wide.
Two vast shadows fell across the chamber, swallowing the light.
"Rend!"