Bloodsteel Gangster
Episode 2 – The First Hunt
The city was alive with neon and sin. Towering skyscrapers lit the night sky, each glowing billboard screaming about drugs, sex, weapons, and power. Hovercars streaked overhead while gangs prowled the streets below. It was chaos wrapped in beauty, the perfect hunting ground for someone like Kuro.
He walked down the cracked sidewalk, his trench coat swaying like a shadow. His scrawny frame had already begun to shift into something sharper, stronger—thirty-four kills had sculpted muscle into his bones, hardened his jawline, thickened his arms. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
He needed more levels. More kills. More money.
A cigarette burned between his lips as he scanned the streets. He looked calm, almost bored, like he didn't belong here. But his eyes—those glowing demonic red eyes—burned with silent hunger.
⸻
The Gangsters of Rust Block
The first ones to notice him were a pack of street rats—gangsters dressed in patchwork armor and neon masks, the kind that lived and died in alleys for scraps of cash. Rust Block, they called themselves. Their symbol, a rusted steel chain tattoo, wrapped around their necks like nooses.
Five of them stepped out from a corner, blades and pistols flashing in the glow of streetlights.
"Yo," one called out, voice cocky. "That's a pretty coat, old man. Hand it over and maybe we don't gut you."
Kuro's cigarette glowed faintly as he exhaled smoke. He didn't even look at them—just kept walking, slow, steady, calm.
The leader barked a laugh. "The fuck? You deaf?" He pulled his pistol. "I said—"
Bang.
The sound tore through the night like a thunderclap. The gangster's skull split open, red mist spraying across the walls. His body dropped before the others even registered what happened.
Kuro's pistol—liquid steel drawn from his own arm—smoked faintly. His face remained calm, detached.
The other four screamed curses and opened fire. Bullets slammed into Kuro's chest, shredding through his flesh—but his body sealed instantly, steel veins knitting bone and muscle. He kept walking, eyes never blinking.
"Monster!" one cried, firing wildly.
Kuro raised his pistol. Bang. Bang. Two fell, headshots perfect, skulls erupting like shattered melons.
The last two dropped their weapons, trembling. One fell to his knees, begging. "P-please, man, we were just playing—"
Kuro tilted his head, eyes glowing like embers. "So was I."
The blade slid out of his left arm, gleaming under neon. One slash—clean, merciless—and both were cut down, torsos split open, organs spilling across the sidewalk.
Leveling Up
The voice in his skull returned, cold and mechanical, a reward machine built into his blood.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 39.
Balance: $38,000.
His physique swelled again, muscles pressing against his coat, veins glowing faintly with steel. His jawline sharpened, and his presence grew heavier, darker. Every step he took radiated something that made people cross the street and hide their eyes.
Kuro flicked the blood off his blade, letting it melt back into his arm. He crouched, rifling through the bodies. Pockets stuffed with credits, drugs, small weapons. Trash compared to his endless flow of cash. Still, he pocketed the credits.
He lit another cigarette and kept walking.
⸻
Ambush in the Alley
The city whispered quickly. By the time Kuro reached the Rust Block district, a dozen more gangsters had heard about the "immortal freak" who slaughtered five of their men. They gathered in an alley, thirty strong, with rifles, bats, blades, and cybernetic implants glowing under the dim neon haze.
One stepped forward—a brute with chrome-plated arms and a jaw of steel. His voice was thick, cruel.
"You the bastard who killed my boys?"
Kuro stopped at the mouth of the alley, smoke curling from his lips. "Yeah."
The brute grinned, teeth clanging like metal. "You got balls, trench coat. But tonight, you die."
The alley erupted in screams as they charged.
Kuro raised his pistol. Bang. Bang. Bang. Heads popped, blood splattering walls, bodies crashing into trash cans. He moved slow, deliberate, every shot a kill. When they reached him, his blade tore through flesh like paper, carving limbs, spilling guts.
One man lunged with a cyber-axe. Kuro caught the blade with his steel arm, twisted, and shoved the pistol under the man's chin. Bang. The top of his skull exploded.
Another tried to grapple him from behind. Kuro let him, then let his coat morph into spikes, impaling the man's torso. Blood sprayed out like rain.
They came in waves, and he cut them down without blinking, calm as death itself. The alley floor turned red, corpses stacked against the walls.
When it ended, silence smothered the night.
Thirty gangsters. Thirty kills.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 69.
Balance: $68,000.
Kuro stood in the middle of the carnage, his body transformed again. He was no longer the scrawny boy pulled from death. His frame was now broad, muscles carved like steel, shoulders wide enough to cast shadows across the alley. His eyes glowed brighter, burning like two suns of crimson hate.
The Cop Shakedown
As he walked out of the alley, two black hover-police cruisers screeched to a halt, lights flashing red and blue. Officers poured out, rifles raised, armor gleaming.
"Hands in the air! Drop the weapon!"
Kuro exhaled smoke. "No."
The cops hesitated, but their leader snarled. "Open fire!"
Bullets rained down. Kuro didn't flinch. The rounds tore through his flesh, but the wounds sealed instantly. He raised his pistol, calm as ever, and returned fire. Headshots cracked helmets, cops screamed, blood sprayed across car hoods.
The last two tried to retreat. Kuro shot one in the spine, dropping him screaming. The other tried to crawl back into the cruiser, but Kuro dragged him out by the throat, shoved his blade through the man's chest, and whispered in his ear.
"Protect and serve, right?"
Then he tossed the corpse onto the cruiser hood.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 71.
Balance: $70,000.
Kuro stepped into the cruiser, smoke curling from his lips. The engine purred alive. He leaned back, trench coat flowing, eyes glowing against the rearview mirror.
"Cops. Gangs. Doesn't matter." His voice was low, calm. "They're all just levels."
The cruiser shot forward, neon lights reflecting off his steel-red eyes.
The Legend Begins
By the time the sun began to rise, the streets whispered a new name.
A gangster reborn.
An immortal killer with liquid steel in his veins.
Every kill fed his strength, every death filled his wallet.
They called him Kuro. The Bloodsteel Gangster.
And nowhere was safe anymore.