The old man dropped to his knees, hands trembling.
"Please... don't take my daughter. Please, she's all I have..."
A boot slammed into his face. He hit the dirt, blood leaking from his nose. His daughter screamed as one of the men dragged her off, kicking and crying.
"Shut your mouth, old man," the thug said. "Say another word and she dies."
The village was under attack.
Fires spread across rooftops. Smoke filled the sky. Cries echoed through the streets. Groups of women and children were being shoved into lines, swords pointed at their backs.
Men who resisted were beaten down and left in the dirt. Some were cut open and dragged away. Others were forced to watch as their families were taken.
At the edge of the village, rusted trucks waited. One by one, the groups were loaded inside. The Vultures kept shouting.
Move faster.
Line them up.
Anyone who didn't move was cut.
A man tried to protect his wife. He didn't last three seconds. One sword through the chest and he dropped.
A few villagers still fought back. They were outnumbered. Outarmed. Slaughtered in seconds.
The Vultures weren't soldiers. They didn't wear uniforms. Just black coats, masks, and blades. But they were trained. Fast. Merciless.
They laughed while kicking people in the stomach. Slapped crying children. Cracked bones like it meant nothingThe old man dropped to his knees, hands trembling.
A man crouched behind a broken wall, shielding his daughter with his body
One of the Vultures saw them
"What are you hiding behind your back"
Before he could answer, a kick slammed into his ribs
He dropped to the ground, coughing
The Vulture stepped forward and saw her a young girl, maybe sixteen, trembling, clutching her father's shirt
A slow smile spread across his face as he licked his lips
"I'm going to have a fun time with you"
The father reached out, grabbing the Vulture's leg
"Please… don't take her… please…"
Another kick crushed his face into the dirt
"Shut up, bastard"
The Vulture grabbed the girl by her hair and yanked her up
She screamed and kicked, her hands clawing at his wrist
Her father tried to get up again but two more Vultures pinned him down
The girl bit the Vulture's hand
He shouted and ripped his hand away, blood dripping down his fingers
"You little bitch"
He pulled out his sword
Raised it high
The blade came down toward her neck
The sword was about to hit her neck.
Then something crashed down from the sky. A boy landed hard, slamming his feet into the Vulture's back and knocking him face-first into the dirt.
The girl gasped and scrambled back.
"What the hell? Who is that?" one of the Vultures shouted.
The boy stood up, brushed himself off, and smiled.
"Me? Just passing through."
"Kill him!"
Three Vultures charged.
The first tried to stab, but the boy stepped aside and kicked him in the chest.
He dashed forward, jumped, and kicked the second man in the neck.
Two more came from behind.
The boy rolled, picked up a sword from the ground with his foot, caught it in his hand, and blocked their swing.
He slashed one across the shoulder and knocked the other down with a heavy blow to the back.
The last two turned to run.
He threw the sword. It spun through the air and stabbed through one of them.
The other froze.
The boy gave a calm smile.
"Nice try."
The boy cracked his knuckles and turned to the last Vulture still breathing.
Without a word, he walked over and beat him down with his fists. Each punch hit harder than the last until the man dropped, unconscious.
The villagers slowly stepped out from hiding. An old man dropped to his knees.
"Thank you... thank you for saving us."
The boy brushed dust off his clothes and smiled.
"No need to thank me. I was just passing by."
"Please..." the old man begged, "can we at least know your name?"
The boy paused, then grinned.
"Ren."
The people cheered, but it didn't last. Faces grew quiet again. A woman holding her child whispered, "They took the others... my husband, my brother..."
The old man looked down, ashamed.
"They dragged half the village away... Said they were going to sell them. Took them to their base."
Ren's smile faded.
"I'll bring them back."
The old man's eyes widened. "No you don't understand. Their leader is there... Malek. They call him the Bullet Hound."
Ren tilted his head.
"He's a Concept User. And one of the most dangerous."
The old man's voice dropped to a whisper.
"He doesn't miss. Doesn't reload. His bullets curve, ricochet, hit you behind cover, around corners, through walls. Once he locks on, you're already dead."
Ren stayed quiet for a second.
Then he smirked.
"I'm strong."
He walked over to the knocked-out Vulture, crouched, and tapped his face.
"Wake up, buddy."
The guy groaned.
Ren stood up again, cracking his neck.
"You're gonna show me the way."
The Vulture groaned as he woke up, tied up in the back of the truck. Ren stood in front of him, arms crossed, smirking.
"You're gonna take me to your base. Act normal. If you don't, I'll break your legs and walk the rest of the way myself."
The man nodded quickly, fear in his eyes.
Thirty minutes later, the truck rolled through the iron gates of the Vulture camp. No one questioned it. One of their own was driving.
The truck stopped in the middle of the lot. Vultures walked over casually, yawning and stretching.
"Where are the new slaves?" one of them said, annoyed. "We got buyers coming soon."
"Yeah," another said, "I don't see any women or-"
He climbed up and looked inside the truck.
His eyes widened.
"What the hell..."
The men inside weren't women or children.
They were their own people, gagged and unconscious.
Before he could shout, a blur shot out of the truck.
Ren slammed his leg into the man's chest, sending him flying back into a pile of metal.
The second guard reached for his weapon, but Ren was already there.
He ducked low, grabbed a fallen sword with his foot, flipped it up, caught it, and slashed across the man's chest. The Vulture dropped instantly.
Ren spun around just as more Vultures shouted from across the camp.
They were pulling out their weapons. Running.
Ren stepped out of the truck fully, cracking his neck, sword in hand.
"Alright," he said, smiling, "let's make this quick."
One of the Vultures stumbled back in panic, blood dripping from his nose.
"I'm getting the boss!" he yelled, running off.
Inside a nearby shack, a man lay stretched out
on a torn couch, a piece of newspaper covering his face. He didn't move when the door burst open.
"Boss! We got an intruder! He's takin' out our men like nothin'!"
There was a pause.
Then the man slowly lowered the paper and glared.
His cold eyes alone shut the lackey up.
Back outside, Ren stood in the center of the camp, surrounded.
At least ten Vultures circled him now, blades drawn, screaming.
"Get him!"
The first one lunged forward, swinging a rusty sword at Ren's neck.
Ren ducked, spun low, and kicked the man's legs out. As he fell, Ren grabbed him by the jacket and flung him into two others.
Another bandit tried to stab him from behind.
Ren stepped forward, let the blade miss his back by inches, then elbowed the attacker in the face without even turning around.
"You're all this slow?" he muttered.
Three more charged him.
Ren ran straight at them. At the last second, he slid under their slashes, grabbed a dropped weapon off the ground, and came up swinging.
One got slashed across the chest.
Another caught a knee to the gut and dropped.
The third one hesitated.
Ren flipped the sword in his hand and pointed it lazily.
"Next."
The man screamed and ran. Ren didn't even chase him.
The remaining Vultures backed up. Their breathing was heavy. Sweat on their foreheads.
One of them whispered, "He looks… bored."
Another screamed, "You bastard! You think you can mock the Vulture Bandits?"
They rushed him all at once.
Ren exhaled slowly, let his blade fall to his side… then smiled.
This time, he met them head on.
He parried the first swing with a sharp twist, disarmed the attacker, and smashed the hilt into his jaw. He grabbed another by the collar, used him as a shield to block an incoming strike, then spun and slammed both into the dirt.
Two more tried to tackle him together.
He dropped his sword, jumped, stepped on their shoulders mid-air, and flipped behind them. Before they could turn, he slammed their heads together.
All around him, bodies hit the ground.
Groaning. Broken.
Ren cracked his neck again.
"Still too slow."
From the shadows, heavy boots echoed.
The Vultures stopped moving. Every head turned.
Their boss had arrived