Chapter 76: Docks at Dawn
Thwap!
Meat on canvas.
Thwap. Thwap. BOOM!
Chains groaned against their bolts, rattling in the concrete. The heavy bag jerked, stitches splitting, sand and stuffing spitting out like guts.
BOOM!
The last hit snapped it wide open. Shreds hit the floor.
Sweat poured down her body, but Big Min grinned like a beast. She dragged a forearm across her brow, then barked a laugh that filled the room.
"Not bad! Thing damn near made a full minute. You're gettin' better. Now hang up the next one."
The gym stank of rust, blood, and wet leather. Two men stood off to the side, one pale, eyes glassing, the other just shaking his head.
"Boss, c'mon. I get it helps him level, but maybe think about the poor bastard's feelings? Couldn't you pull a punch once in a while?"
Her laugh rolled louder, a hammer of sound.
"Pull back? Waste my fucking workout? Hang it up, sweetheart. Now—what's this next bag packin'?"
She slammed her bare fists together. The crack wasn't flesh...it was steel biting steel.
The man about to tear up wiped his eyes raw, then forced his face hard. He gripped the chain, dragging another bag across the floor, the scrape echoing like bone on stone.
"Trent hide. Rings of rebar inside. Packed with concrete, granite, and sand from an Abyssal dungeon."
It took both men to haul it up, straining even with E-rank muscle. The bag swung heavy, clanking under its own weight.
Min's grin widened. She stepped in close, shoulders tight, veins corded, like she'd been handed a gift.
[Maybe ease up. Han's about to break.]
'Bullshit. He promised to make one that wouldn't split. Not my fault he's crying over it.'
[Men brag. Doesn't mean you have to smash him flat.]
Her temple twitched, jaw grinding.
'Fuuuck! Fine. I'll pull back.'
[Thank you.]
THWAP!
Her fists slammed, the sound sharp, snapping through the room. Crunch followed crack, knuckles chewing into the hide. She'd meant to play nice, but her arms betrayed her. She didn't pull much at all.
Her brows shot up...surprise, then delight.
The bag held.
Min had burned through more equipment than she could count. Nothing lasted. Steel split. Leather tore. Wood shattered.
Han wasn't built for combat, not even close, his strength at E and his shard only being D-Rank, he crafted armor and made clothes. Called his skill Rip-stitch. He'd explained it once, but she hadn't given a shit. If it didn't hit or bleed, it didn't matter.
Mid-combo she switched stance, bare fists dropping into a kick. Her shin hammered the bag—CRUNCH—but it stayed swinging.
"Hell yeah! Think ya nailed it! Hey, Choji—hold it for me!"
"Fuck no! Let Han hug that thing."
BOOM! BOOM!
Each strike rattled the room, dust shaking loose from the rafters. The bag groaned but held.
Han's face eased a fraction, color seeping back as he scanned for rips. None yet. He even managed a smile.
"How'd a soft-ass like you use Trent hide? Those bastards are C-rank."
The smile vanished quick.
"I already—!"
He bit it back, knowing better. His voice steadied, forcing himself to be patient.
"My shard lets me work almost any hide. But you need to let it rest. Trent skin retains some of its defense—it'll regenerate, but only if you give it time."
Her blonde hair snapped with each strike, sweat bursting from her skin in sheets. She was lost to it...combos tearing loose like a rhythm only she heard, fists and feet carving patterns through the air.
Even Han and Choji froze watching. Everyone knew her as the sledgehammer of the gang, most fights ended in two hits, three at most. Easy to forget the weight hid a dancer's flow, every move chained like it belonged to the next.
Minutes bled out before she drove in one last kick, the bag swinging wild. Her laugh cracked across the room.
"I want you on this full-time! Send me a list of whatever you'll need. I'll cover it. Don't get greedy though, I can see your rat eyes shining already."
Han flinched, rubbing the back of his head.
"The Trent hide held, and I got it cheap. I'll keep myself in check."
Choji grinned, slapping his shoulder.
"Don't sweat it, boss. I'll keep him honest."
Min barked another laugh and yanked open a rust-bitten locker.
"You two need to crawl out of that shop more, train some. You're both twigs."
"Not everyone's obse—"
Both flushed, snapping their heads away.
Like she didn't even notice them, Min peeled off her soaked bra, bare breast's, scars and muscle catching the light. Towel in hand, she dried off casual as breathing. Her body wasn't soft, wasn't gentle, but it carried a raw, shameless pull her crew never knew how to handle.
"Look at you two, you'd think you're virgins—never seen tits before?"
"Boss, seriously—cut it out. Not cool."
Han rubbed his temples; working with Min was a lesson in entropy. Choji leaned closer, voice a hush.
"How do they get that big? I thought they shrink with work."
"That's what I thought."
They muttered; Min heard and only grinned. She liked the way men turned to puddles.
[Seo-jin asked you to stop doing that, you know he wouldn't—]
'Seo-jin's dead. Don't waste your concern.'
She shrugged into a shirt and yanked her tracksuit zipper up. The grin stayed, but something behind it had teeth.
[...I can tell you decided. Wanna share?]
She chuckled.
'He saved us. I'll give him the day. After that—he dies.'
[If you said anything less, I'd be worried about you.]
Heading to their shop, the two men left the gym with a small, useless unease—too green to name the scent they'd just picked up. Min, for all her laughs, oozed something colder now: a smear of killing intent at the edges.
After getting a drink, she took a rest outside as the sky was thinning to light. Min watched the sunrise long enough for her smile to crack.
"Sorry...I can't keep my promise, Seo-jin. Forgive me."
Under that apology, something hard and animal thudded. Today would be the Dead Hands' reckoning, and she meant for it to end in blood.
----
Seo-jin sat buried in the glow of the tablet, the words burning into him like brands. He hadn't blinked in over an hour, each line carved into memory as if gouged there with a blade.
It wasn't until a shard of sunlight crawled across his arm that he moved. Heat seeped into his skin, foreign and startling.
"…Morning."
The word scraped out dry. He knew the definition, the memory of it, but never the act. Never the living weight of it. Rising stiffly, joints tight from stillness, he pushed back from the desk.
[Recommendation: resume study. Twelve hours remain. User still lacks knowledge of contract initiation.]
"Later."
He cut the voice off with a flicker of irritation, already staring past the cracked warehouse walls, where pale fire leaked through shattered glass.
The steel door screamed open under his hand. Salt slammed his lungs, the dock's rot and tide mixing with the bite of morning air.
And then the east. The sun rising over black water.
"It feels…good."
The words came low, almost reverent. The warmth bled into him. His body begged to split, to show his true skin, to tear open the sky and call the Brood to watch. Instead he stayed still, drinking it in like blood from a vein.
So still that he almost missed the steps behind him—almost. The warmth, the scent, the sound of gulls, none of it covered the stench of killing intent leaking raw across the dock.
He didn't need to turn. Only one woman bled intent like that, even when she thought she hid it.
His voice was flat, knowing.
"When did you figure it out?"
He didn't bother to face her. Min wouldn't strike from behind. That wasn't her way.
"When I picked you up. I didn't want to admit it. But after touching you, it was obvious. Tell me...was it you that killed him?"
Seo-jin sighed, the sound sharp and tired. Disappointment slid through him. No point in masks anymore. If Min knew, then the game was over. And with it, the Dead Hands.
He turned to face her, and froze for a beat. She wasn't weeping. She wasn't shaken. She was smiling. Grinning wide, like a wolf at the scent of blood. Pride and fury tangled in her veins, but beneath it all, that hunger for the fight.
"I did. Now let me ask you—why? You know you can't beat me. Even Gregor knows. You could have swallowed this down, kept your little kingdom, lived a little longer. Why throw it away?"
Her laugh detonated across the docks, deep and full, shaking gulls from their perches. Aura burned around her, bright and crushing, half-shields snapping into place along her arms like slabs of hate.
"What a stupid fucking question! You killed my friend. What other reason do I need?!"
He laughed back, cold and sharp, bloodlight flaring in his chest.
"Fair. Stupid question. Forgive me. Shame, though. I really was going to enjoy you."
She crouched low, her grin wide enough to split her face.
"Fun's just gettin' started."
Her eyes widened when his flesh split. Two cleavers tore free from his forearms, bone and tendon crawling into their grip. Wet sound, grinding sound. She felt her skin prickle, her gut tighten, even as her pulse quickened.
'What rank are those…?'
[Unknown. They are not system-made.]
'Artifact then. Beautiful.'
Her laugh bubbled raw, wild. Battle-addict joy ripping up her spine. Stronger foe, sharper edge. It didn't scare her. It lit her veins on fire. This was what she lived for.
"Ready, human? Since you're still my subordinate, I'll give you a moment to—"
She didn't wait. Min launched herself forward, grin stretched savage.
'She's going all out.'
[-2SM]
[Fiendskin // Active]
[+5% Physical Defense / 60sec]
Seo-jin's skin tightened black as armor. Cleavers rose to guard, every nerve locked on defense. He was stronger, sure, but one clean hit from her wasn't something he'd gamble on.
Her fist ripped through the air—
"HELP!"
Both froze, her knuckles hovering an inch from Butcher's Wrath.
At the far edge of the docks, shadows staggered into view. A handful of their men, dragging someone half-dead between them. The closer they came, the clearer the wreckage of him showed. Slims. Skin flayed with cuts, clothes stiff with blood.
His head lolled. Then he saw them. With a broken shout, he ripped free of the arms holding him, stumbling forward on his own wrecked legs.
"They need help! They're gonna die, Boss!"
The fury drained from the docks. Min's aura flickered low. Seo-jin's grip eased, bloodlight simmering but no longer burning. Both turned to the boy.
Slims collapsed face-first, sobbing into the boards.
"We got attacked—Gregor's still holding them off! Boss—you have to save them!"