Crasfer ran forward, punching a man square in the chest before firing a bolt of lightning at a woman, blasting her backward into the ground. He didn't grab the man—he slammed his fist down, driving him into the pavement.
He kicked another aside.
The boy had been fighting for nearly an hour. Somehow, he was still standing.
He didn't know what it was, but he felt weak—like something had been taken from him. Power, drained away, with no way to get it back.
He hated that feeling.
Still, he kept fighting, forcing himself to move with every breath he had left.
When the last body around him finally went unconscious, Crasfer dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
"Dammit… where is he?" Crasfer yelled at a man nearby who was finishing his own fight.
"Your father?" the man asked.
"No—fucking Santa Claus. Of course my father," Crasfer snapped.
The man hesitated. "At the warehouse, planning the next move. If what I heard is right, he'll be joining the battle soon."
Crasfer stiffened.
"…With the sword?"
"Yeah."
The sword was a secret. Only the closest members of the gang even knew it existed.
If his father was bringing that out, then this war was ending tonight.
"We're planning to make sure we're the only gang left in Section D after tonight," the man said. "So be ready."
He walked down the hill, revealing the rest of the battlefield.
This wasn't just a gang war—it was a 3 war-way war.
Orange and white uniforms belonged to Sunriot.
Black and gold marked Black Crown.
Purple and black represented Eclipse.
And Crasfer's gang—the one led by his father—was Sunriot.
"Fine," Crasfer muttered. "Let's get this over with."
Lightning crackled in his palm as he charged forward, firing it straight toward another man.
⸻
Riven stood face-to-face with a peach-haired man whose presence made the air feel wrong.
Necromancy.
"Before we begin," Riven said calmly, "I want to know your name."
The man smirked. "Since you won't be leaving here alive… my name's Canin."
"I'll be your killer."
"Hm. Canin…" Riven muttered.
Then he vanished forward.
Riven's sudden burst of speed caught Canin off guard—but only for a moment.
A massive hand formed above them, slamming downward.
Riven jumped back instantly.
No. Not here.
Reaching zero HP here wasn't like before. Against Crasfer, it had only knocked him out.
But this man?
This man was trying to kill him.
Riven looked up—then froze.
A massive gray-skinned man stood before him. A corpse. A victim.
How many people has he killed…?
The zombie raised its hand.
Suddenly, Riven's body felt light—too light.
He was lifted into the air, then thrown aside like trash.
Riven slammed into a wall at the end of the street, the impact blasting the air from his lungs. He hit the ground hard, coughing violently.
"Riven!" Jordan ran to him, pulling him up. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Riven wheezed. "Were you able to take it?"
Jordan shook his head.
"What? Why not?"
"Not compatible. I couldn't take his core."
"…What is compatible with your ink?" Riven asked.
"I thought it was water," Jordan said. "Guess I was wrong."
They didn't have time to dwell on it.
The corpse raised its hand again.
Riven moved first—launching himself onto one wall, then springing to another like a beast circling prey.
Jordan uncapped two bottles of ink. His evolved ability depended entirely on supply.
Ink hardened into two spears in his hands.
He threw them.
They pierced into the zombie's shoulders.
Riven dashed past the corpse, heading straight for Canin.
He's a summoner, Riven thought. His body should be weak.
But there was one thing he hadn't accounted for.
A woman suddenly appeared beside Canin, lungs swollen unnaturally.
She exhaled.
The blast of air sent Riven skidding backward—but the moment the ink spears landed, Riven struck.
He came in from behind, crossing his claws in a brutal double slash across the zombie's back.
Cold flesh tore beneath his hands.
Blood splattered his arms.
But the corpse didn't scream.
It didn't flinch.
It turned.
Riven jumped back, regrouping with Jordan.
"This is a problem," Riven muttered.
"You think?" Jordan shot back.
"They don't feel pain. And they keep their abilities. Raw strength won't be enough—and a pipe won't do anything either."
A voice echoed through the chaos.
"I'll help you again… but I want to see if you're truly worthy of your resolve."
A sword fell from the sky, embedding itself into the ground between the brothers.
"What the hell?" Canin shouted.
"Is that a sword?" the two boys questioned at the same time.
"Where do it come from?" Jordan asked.
Riven wondered the same thing—but more than that, he wondered what the thing could do. When he activated Lock-On, nothing appeared.
At first, he thought it was just a natural reaction—maybe the skill didn't work on weapons. To test it, he focused on Jordan's pipe instead.
This time, text appeared.
[System: Rusted Down Pipe]
Strength: +0
Durability: +0
Speed: +0
It gave no extra stats, but the fact that he could see them told him everything he needed to know.
The sword was different.
Whatever it was, it was special. Unique.
"Pick it up!" Canin shouted with a wide grin. "You're going to need it."
The monster lifted the blade using gravity alone, as if the weapon itself weighed nothing.
Riven didn't know the first thing about using a sword. In his hands, it would be useless. Instead of wasting time, he charged back into the fray—knowing Jordan was far more likely to make use of it.
He slid around the zombie using his gravity ability, planting his foot against it and using the creature like a jump pad. The force launched him straight toward Canin.
Canin didn't move. He waited until Riven was close enough—then unleashed a blast of compressed air.
Riven crossed his arms into an X in front of his face, bracing himself. The pressure shoved him backward, but he forced himself forward anyway.
Then he felt it.
Something was near.
His instincts screamed.
Riven slashed his lightning claws in the direction of the disturbance.
The airflow stopped instantly.
"Wow," Canin whistled. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Riven frowned in confusion—until he looked down.
The woman who had been blasting wind at him lay on the ground, a deep slice carved across her neck. Her body was still.
She wasn't moving.
She was dead.
Again.
And this time… there was no coming back.
What have I done? Riven screamed inside his mind.
He dropped to one knee, checking her pulse, checking her eyes—only to realize how pointless it was.
She had already been dead.
The grief vanished as quickly as it had come. Riven stood back up, slipping into his clawed stance once more.
"What happened to all that grief from a moment ago?" Canin mocked.
Riven didn't answer.
He didn't care about the life he had just taken—because it hadn't truly been a life at all. Life meant free will.
Canin had stripped that from them.
That truth settled in fully when Riven looked into the woman's eyes.
There was gratitude there.
As if he had saved her from eternal damnation.
Riven rushed Canin, intent on ending the fight as quickly as possible.
"But that face of yours…" Canin said suddenly. "You're a student."
The words made Riven freeze.
He reached up, touching his face.
The mask was gone.
"Shit—"
Riven covered his face, trying to hide his features, but deep down he knew it was pointless. Canin had already gotten a good look.
"Oh, come on," the man said lazily. "There's no point in hiding it now."
The next second, a brutal kick slammed into Riven's gut.
Blood spilled from his mouth as he was sent skidding backward.
What the hell…? the black-haired boy thought, struggling to breathe.
"You're probably wondering why I'm so strong," Canin continued casually. "It's actually quite simple."
He spread his arms slightly, almost proud.
"Every time one of my undead is killed, I receive their strength and speed. On top of that, my ability refines the power—turning me into something closer to a superhuman."
He paused, frowning slightly.
"Honestly, I'm surprised myself. I didn't expect this much growth so quickly."
Before he could continue, a sudden surge of power washed over him.
Canin froze.
His expression darkened.
Another one…
A double-edged sword.
Yes, the power boost was massive—but it also meant something else.
One of his undead was gone for good.
Permanently dead.
And unable to be revived.
Canin slowly turned his head.
Jordan stood a short distance away, gripping the sword. Dark blood dripped from the blade, staining the ground beneath his feet.
Silence stretched between them.
"…Hey," Riven muttered, wiping blood from his lips. "Mind giving me another mask?"
"Sure," Jordan replied calmly.
He reached into his system space and pulled out a bunny mask, tossing it toward Riven.
Riven caught it.
And slipped it on.
right," riven growled, tightening his grip. "Let's kick this bastard's ass."
The two of them moved into position, bodies tensing as another massive explosion ripped through the background. Fire and debris shot skyward, lighting the night in violent flashes.
Crasfer's eyes locked onto the source.
The man responsible stood in the chaos, clad in a purple-and-black uniform—clear proof he wasn't on Crasfer's side. Not allied. Not loyal. Just destruction given form.
"Damn it… that guy's starting to get annoying," Crasfer muttered, staring at where the explosions kept erupting. "He doesn't care who's friend or foe—he's attacking anyone he sees."
The realization only fueled his anger.
He's destroying everything.
Buildings collapsed one after another, property reduced to rubble. Even if this war ended tonight—no matter who stood victorious—most of it would be gone because of that one man.
But Crasfer wasn't a fool.
He knew when he was outmatched.
The blast radius alone was terrifying. The area of effect was far too wide. Even at full strength, charging in would be suicide.
I can't reach him… not like this.
Suddenly, a presence surged behind him.
A killing intent.
Before Crasfer could react, steel flashed.
A sword came down in a brutal arc, slicing the would-be attacker nearly in half before they could even cry out. Blood hit the ground as the body collapsed.
Crasfer turned sharply.
"Father…"
The man stood there calmly, blade already lowered. With a smooth motion, he slid the sword back into the sheath at his side, as if he hadn't just ended a life.
"Status report," his father ordered, voice steady.
"It looks like it's wrapping up," Crasfer replied. "We only have one major problem left."
Another deafening boom thundered across the area, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
His father's gaze shifted toward the explosions. "Bring him in. His Evolution ability could be extremely useful to us. We could take him under our wing—but…"
"But you think he's too unstable," Crasfer said.
"Yes," his father answered without hesitation. "I believe he would cause us more harm than good."
A moment passed.
"Thank you for the update," the man said at last.
His eyes hardened as he raised his voice. "From now on, I won't be holding back. Everyone who can't fight—return to the warehouse and recover."
He turned to those still standing.
"Those who can fight, come with me."
The air grew heavy.
"We end this tonight."
With a sharp pull, he drew his sword from its sheath. The steel gleamed under the firelight as the sound rang through the battlefield like a declaration of war.
This ends now.