The night bled darker as the roar of engines split through the silence. One after another, motorcycles thundered down the dirt road, their headlights cutting through the shadows like blades. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber filled the air, vibrating in the bones of anyone nearby.
At the center of it all rode Daring Rose. She sat sideways on the back seat of her upper rank's motorcycle, her posture elegant yet commanding, her skirt brushing lightly against the wind. The white mask hid her face, but her amber eyes glowed faintly behind it, glimmering under the passing beams of light. The rose hairpin shimmered like a mark of death itself.
Her upper rank, hands gripping the handlebars tight, leaned forward as the machine roared beneath them. His jaw was locked, his face hard with resolve, carrying his Co-leadership into the battlefield.
The dump site appeared at last—a wasteland of twisted metal, stacked garbage, and the sharp stink of decay. Floodlights flickered weakly in the distance, powered by patched-up wires, throwing eerie shadows across rusted heaps.
The upper rank's voice tore into the night, booming above the roar of engines:
"We're here!"
At his command, the wave of motorcycles slowed, circling the perimeter like predators surrounding prey. Tires screeched against gravel as one by one, a hundred black-clad figures came to a stop. Boots hit the ground in unison as the riders dismounted, the white rose symbol on their backs gleaming under the light.
The sound of a hundred engines died together, leaving behind only the heavy hum of tension. The night air was thick, charged with violence waiting to ignite.
At the very heart of the formation sat Daring Rose, silent, perched elegantly behind her ally, like a queen before the execution.
They stood their ground, eyes sweeping across the wasteland. The night was silent for only a breath—then boom. Floodlights snapped to life on both sides, blinding and harsh, bathing the dump in an ugly glow.
A deep laugh echoed from the distance, bouncing off the mountains of rusted metal.
"Gahahahaha!"
From atop a heap of broken junk, a figure emerged. The leader of the Pseudo Gang strutted forward, his grin sharp and mocking, eyes glinting with malice. His boots crunched against the metal as he spread his arms wide, the echo of his voice taunting them.
"Well, well, well… look who decided to crawl out tonight. The Rose Flairs! Gang!"
Behind Daring Rose, her allies clenched their fists, teeth grinding as they glared at the figure. Their knuckles whitened, every muscle screaming for blood.
The shadows moved. One by one, the Pseudo Gang emerged from the heaps of trash and broken cars with some electronic waste, crawling out like cockroaches. Dozens of them, sneering, snarling, each clutching a weapon. Rusty pipes, dented metal bats, jagged knives, even a chipped sword gleaming faintly in the light.
Their faces twisted into grotesque grins, eyes wide with bloodlust, some twitching like addicts desperate for violence. The dump stank of rot and iron, but now it reeked of something stronger—murder.
The air between the two gangs thickened, silent but deadly.
Daring Rose tilted her head slightly, her amber eyes flashing from behind the white mask. Her voice was calm, delicate even, but it carried the weight of command.
"Prepare them… Nori."
Her upper rank, the one they called the nick name Fleeting Flash, gave a sharp nod. His jaw tightened, veins rising on his temples as he stepped forward. The lights glinted across his face, his expression grim and unyielding.
He turned his gaze toward the Pseudo Gang's leader, voice deep and steady.
"I thought this was supposed to be a fist fight." His fists clenched, and his voice grew harsher, cracking like a whip. "So why are you hiding behind knives and scrap metal?!"
The words echoed across the dump, carried by the night air.
The Pseudo Gang only laughed louder. Pipes were banged against car doors, knives glinted as they were twirled, the sound of iron on iron ringing through the junkyard like a war drum.
Meanwhile, the Rose Flairs shifted into their formations. Boots stomped into the dirt as rows of underlings lowered their stance, shoulders shaking—not from weakness, but from the pressure pressing down on them. Their weapons were simple: fists, steel knuckles and some of them bring short sticks. No blades. No guns.
In the center of them all, Daring Rose didn't move an inch.
She stood as if the chaos around her was nothing but wind passing by. Her white mask caught the light, her long black hair swaying gently as if she were untouched by the storm. The rusted pipe she secretly had brought earlier has now rested lazily across her shoulder, yet the aura around her was suffocating, more dangerous than the sharpest blade.
At her side, Nori inhaled sharply, veins still bulging across his forehead as his glare never left the enemy. He was waiting—for her signal.
The Rose Flairs stood firm, but their eyes flickered with unease. The air grew heavy as the Pseudo Gang continued to pour in like shadows from every corner of the dump site—two thousand strong, their weapons scraping metal against metal, a chorus of dread.
The Rose Flairs… only one hundred. A hundred against an army.
Their boots shuffled against the dirt, shoulders trembling. Murmurs slipped from their lips. We're outnumbered… there's too many… we can't win this. Even the boldest among them clenched their fists too tightly, the skin whitening around their knuckles.
Even Nori, the Fleeting Flash, grit his teeth so hard a vein pulsed angrily at his temple. His irritation was raw, a storm inside him. Tch… how are we supposed to win this?!
But then—
Clang.
The sound of rust against earth silenced them.
Every head turned to their center.
Daring Rose, standing under the pale light, had begun to move. With only one hand, her delicate right, she twirled the rusted pipe effortlessly. The old metal spun in a blur, whistling sharply as it cut the air. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, she let the pipe fall, its bottom striking the dirt.
Her body leaned gently against it using it like a cane. A crutch. A throne.
Her aura shifted.
To her allies, it was as if a wall had risen in front of them.... unmoving, unshakable, untouchable.
"W-whoa…" a few of her gang members muttered in awe, their trembling pausing for a moment.
Across the dump, the Pseudo Gang leader's eyes narrowed, veins bulging on his forehead. He snarled, voice booming with mockery.
"Hah?! What is that.... some kind of show off?" His lips pulled into a twisted grin, teeth bared like an animal. He licked his tongue slowly across his lips. "Daring Rose… you can't win with your measly numbers! We will crush you to pieces until none of you are left breathing. And you..." his gaze burned into her, vile and hungry. "....I'll break your body with pleasure! Hahahahahaha!"
The Pseudo Gang erupted with laughter, their weapons slamming against the ground and metal piles, a terrifying drum of mockery.
Nori's chest heaved, rage sparking like fire in his blood. His right arm snapped outward in a wave, his voice breaking into the chaos.
"SHUT UP!" he roared, veins pulsing violently across his arms and neck. "You filthy coward!! you think numbers make you strong?! You'll regret spitting those words!"
His voice echoed, but the enemy only sneered louder.
In that storm of madness, Daring Rose's voice slipped through like a blade of silk.
"Hmmm…"
Her tone was calm. Unshaken. Almost casual.
"Let them be."
Her words floated in the air, quiet but undeniable. They sank into the hearts of her followers like steel, halting their faltering spirits.
The Rose Flairs straightened subtly. Their fear didn't vanish completely... but something else began to take root. A strange calm, a conviction born from her unflinching composure.
Because if she wasn't afraid… how could they be?
The Rose Flairs stood stiff, the weight of two thousand enemies pressing against their chests like a crushing tide. Their trembling breaths fogged in the cold air.
Then Daring Rose's voice cut through, calm and merciless.
"Grab any rusted heavy metal you can find… for smacking."
Her words echoed through the ranks like an executioner's command.
"If they will kill you," she added, her tone flat, "then we will kill them."
A shiver rippled through her followers. Her calmness wasn't comforting—it was terrifying. Her bloodlust was so controlled, so casual, that it made their stomachs churn. They exchanged glances nervously, some biting their lips, others tightening their fists.
"B-but—" one of them stammered, his voice breaking.
Daring Rose turned her head slightly, the white mask catching the glow of the lights. Behind it, her amber eyes sharpened, her voice quiet yet undeniable.
"No buts."
The Rose Flairs froze. Her presence pressed down on them heavier than the numbers of the Pseudo Gang.
Slowly, reluctantly, they obeyed. Their boots scraped against the dirt as they bent down, grabbing whatever they could from the dump site. Rusted pipes. Twisted rebar. Chunks of broken car doors, lifted as makeshift shields. Even shattered knives, edges dulled and jagged, but deadly enough.
Daring Rose's voice flowed again, cold as steel.
"Your sticks and knuckle weapons are not enough. Adapt… or die."
Nori clenched his jaw, sweat trailing down his temple. He stepped forward, his voice raised.
"But we are not killers, Master!"
For a moment, silence. The tension tightened like a rope around every neck.
Daring Rose's head turned slowly. Behind the mask, her amber eyes glowed faintly under the lights. She looked directly at Nori, her stare sharp enough to pierce through bone.
"They are corrupted," she said softly, with finality. "They must be purged."
Her words landed heavy, like a gavel sealing their fate.
Nori's breath caught in his throat. His defiance collapsed into obedience. His knees bent slightly as he bowed his head with stiff respect.
"…Understood."
He turned quickly, breaking into a run, searching through the wreckage. His hands seized a long, jagged steel pipe, and he ripped it free from the junk pile. His grip tightened, veins swelling on his arms as he turned back toward her.
He shouted, his voice trembling with both rage and loyalty.
"If this truly becomes a bloodbath… I want you safe, Master! We'll fall back if needed!"
But Daring Rose did not answer. She didn't even flinch.
Her silence weighed heavier than words. Because in her mind, she already knew—
There is no falling back.
There is only winning... or dying.