Galdor looked at Fenri who was in the corner, and they shot each other a successful grin.

  Perfect, the plan was perfect.

  Initially, they had gone to their backer Lord Grover to beg him to help them kill Ilven when he left the shelter, but he didn’t agree instead he mocked them for being beaten to such a state by a lone scavenger barely off his mother’s milk.

  He even added insult to injury and cut ties with them.

  The duo was angry at first but quickly came up with a countermeasure, they couldn’t wait for Ilven to make the first move, they were already far too passive back in the forest and ended up in failure and down three members, they had to think strategically this time around.

  Then it came to them, too would use the element of surprise!

  The best way to do that was to do the unthinkable, attack in shelter!

  Until last night they thought it would be a difficult task.

  They initially wanted to hire a lot of refugees to do so but it would be costly as anyone could see it was death wish to break one of the stricter shelter rules, after all, who would dare stay long or work hard for the shelter when they can be killed inside the walls without consequence.

  To reassure the populace management would definitely crack down furiously.

  The slums were one thing, but the main shelter was an entirely different. Such an act with disrupt the natural order and harm their interests.

  Then god smiled on them with the birth of an evil spirt attracting the attention of the top brass and militia, it was the perfect opportunity. They quickly scouted the best weapon to use against Ilven unwilling to do so themselves and risk execution, exile or being blacklisted.

  Barrel was the perfect tool, the arrowhead, all they had to do was notch the arrow and let it loose. Hiding nearby they could also support from the shadows to prevent him from escaping.

  It was the perfect plan.

  Thus, Barrel barged in and attacked finding the old man alone, at first, he thought Ilven was there waiting for the right moment to launch his attack but as time passed, he realized that wasn’t the case.

  That was a good thing, if he was thinking straight, he would have searched and taken the money to leave, although if he had he would have found nothing as Ilven had the bank card on his person.

  Instead, he, along with the other two members of the original trio, wanted to vent their pent-up frustrations this past few hours.

  But Old Wugou was a tough nut to crack, he was old but still had a few tricks up his sleeve, as the former number one scavenger he wasn’t easy to deal with, he injured one of them and almost killed another.

  Still, he was old so they wanted to wear him out first then make their move, but they hadn’t even gotten to torture or beat him thoroughly when Ilven made it home.

  Thus, the current scene played out.

  “Take Stupid Egg and run! I’ll hold them off.” Old Wugou shouted pushing the confused little girl towards Ilven. In his mind Ilven was still the young child he picked up on the edge of death.

  Ilven wasn’t sure about the cause of the current situation, but he knew they had attacked the old man and invaded his house.

  He threw a few knives with pinpoint accuracy at the invaders and rushed over to Old Wugou and Stupid Egg. Flipping a table to use as cover he took out some healing pills.

  “Here, I’ve tried them myself they work fast, it’ll get you patched up.”

  Old Wugou cradled Stupid Egg in one arm with his crutch in another, the hand rest had disappeared and now a sharp blade poked out the top.

  Old Wugou was about to scold Ilven, but the words got stuck in his throat when he saw the look of determination within his eyes.

  There was no way he would abandon him to flee.

  Ilven shifted his weight, staying behind the table as he studied his opponents. Through the lingering dust, he caught each enemy's stance, their weapons, the way they gripped them. These weren't fighters- their postures screamed of street thugs used to beating helpless victims.

  "My fault? What the hell are you talking about, we barely know each other." His voice remained steady, mind already mapping out attack patterns. He kept his body angled, ready to move in any direction while shielding Old Wugou and Stupid Egg.

  "Don't act like you don't know, you gave that fucker money to bury his mother, you caused all of this!" Barrel's roar echoed through the room, spittle flying from his mouth, his remaining arm shaking with barely contained rage.

  Money? Who did I give money... no way.

  Fresh from his conversation with Frederick, a possibility crossed Ilven's mind, but he couldn't see how that situation connected to this one.

  "The fuck you on about, you barge in trying to rob us and you dare add some clumsy fake excuse to top it off, if you have the balls cock biter then say what you mean straight to our faces!" Old Wugou's voice carried stronger now as the healing pills worked through his system. The wounds across his body visibly healing, even the phantom pain from his missing leg washing away like dirt in a stream.

  "What? You bitches dare act like---" Barrel's unstable rage built, but his words cut short as dull thuds hit the floor around them, as they bounced he was able to see their true forms.

  Blue acorns with blackish brown caps jumped up from the wooden boards.

  ...Shot Acorns?

  Poof!

  Ilven's trick worked perfectly - a tried and true method. Humans instinctively relied on their eyes since birth, an instinct hard to remove and a weakness when used properly.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  As the smoke billowed through the room, Ilven ducked low into the cloud, his beast bone dagger glinting coldly in the dim light. His movements were precise, deliberate - each step placed with deadly purpose.

  Seven targets. Limited space. The smoke would only last moments.

  Inside the cloud, the gang members thrashed wildly, throwing blind punches and kicks at shadows. These were men who only knew how to bully the weak - they'd never dared venture into the wilderness where real danger lurked.

  Ilven moved through them like a wraith. The beast dagger found throats with surgical precision, opening them before they could cry out. Four men dropped in rapid succession, their final gasps lost in the smoke.

  Barrel and one companion managed to tumble out of the smoke cloud, rolling across the floor.

  "That dirty rat, it's just a cheap trick, let's regroup and—" Barrel's words died in his throat as he realized no one else had emerged from the smoke.

  "It can't be!" His head snapped back toward the house.

  Silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft whisper of settling smoke.

  ***

  Ilven walked out the house, as he passed by the enemy thrown out earlier by Old Wugou, he found him still alive and whimpering on the ground clinging to life, he quickly put him out of his misery.

  “The militia should see the commotion soon, stay inside. I’ll finish them off.” He spoke to Old Wugou who was about to accompany him but reluctant to part with Stupid Egg who didn’t have a care in the world and was still tussling with her oversized toy.

  “Are you sure?” Old Wugou worriedly asked, this whole situation was so random he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Why would they risk attacking them in the shelter? Did they find out about the true wealth Ilven obtained? But if that was the case then the leader of the Red Dog gang would have come personally. So, what was it?

  “They’re nothing, they aren’t warriors or ability users. Just some gangsters who think beating up some helpless fools makes them powerful. They have no idea.” Ilven scoffed not taking them seriously at all.

  Old Wugou didn’t intend on stopping him when things had already developed to this point, he simply told him to be careful.

  Barrel kept his wary gaze fixed on the dissipating smoke, cursing his life choices when a knife cut through the air, aimed straight for his forehead.

  He rolled desperately aside, but as he looked up, his remaining companion stood frozen, a thin throwing knife buried between his brows. Against the grey smoke backdrop, it was barely visible - unlike the white knife that had targeted him.

  Ilven paused, redirecting his follow-up strike as he watched the companion fall so easily. These gangsters moved like they'd never faced real combat before - like fighting children.

  Barrel realized that things had gotten out of control and immediately turned tail and ran.

  “Damn it! Why did I let Galdor trick me into this! He’s a real scavenger, a scavenger! I couldn’t have beat him one on one… wait, we had the numerical advantage.”

  Before he could analyze where everything went wrong, he felt a warm stinging feeling in his limbs and torso.

  The sound of gunshots rang out simultaneously.

  Ilven looked at the smoking gun and nodded internally praising its speed and lethality.

  Although his aim needed work, Ilven looked at the bullets embedded in the nearby wall before walking next to Barrel.

  “Now talk, who sent you? Why did you come back and harass us.”

  The suspiciousness of the situation wasn’t lost to Ilven, why had a bunch of random gangsters not gone to their favorite pastime of bullying the weak and instead thought themselves capable of robbing him when they knew who he was.

  It was strange, very strange.

  Kachak!

  At that moment Ilven deflected an arrow from behind. He quickly ducked and held up the immobile bleeding ragdoll he was just interrogating as a shield.

  A few more arrows landed but he knocked them away or let them hit his pin cushion.

  “Huaa!” A low shout bellowed as a large figure closed in on his position, swinging a large axe.

  Ilven quickly ducked and slid his beast bone dagger against the axe in an upward swing aiming for the centre of his brows but the new attacker simply kicked him, he lifted an arm to block but the force of the kick sent him flying a few steps away.

  “Ah that explains it, so you two were behind this.” IIven spat out a mouthful of blood and clutched his beast bone dagger more tightly.

  Galdor's massive frame loomed closer, his axe whistling through the air in controlled arcs. Ilven measured the distance between them, mind racing through possibilities. The bigger man's reach with that axe meant keeping space was crucial.

  Ilven dashed forward suddenly, beast bone dagger angling up. Galdor shifted his axe to block, but Ilven had already changed direction, sliding to the side. His dagger scraped against the axe's shaft as he ducked under a horizontal swing.

  The two exchanged a flurry of strikes, metal ringing against metal. Ilven's smaller frame let him weave through Galdor's powerful attacks, but each blocked strike sent tremors through his arms. A direct hit would be enough to end him.

  "Still playing the nimble rat?" Galdor snarled, pressing forward with overwhelming force, “Those worthless fucks, can’t even do one thing right!”

  Ilven caught the axe edge with his dagger, muscles straining. He couldn't match Galdor's raw strength, but he didn't need to. As Galdor pushed down, Ilven twisted sideways, letting the axe slide past. His pistol came up in a smooth motion.

  Crack!

  Galdor jerked back, the bullet grazing his shoulder. His counter-swing came faster than Ilven expected, forcing him to roll away. But the movement brought him exactly where he wanted - within arm's reach of Galdor's exposed flank.

  A quick flick of his wrist. The hidden needle launcher in his sleeve spat its deadly cargo.

  Galdor roared as three needles sank into his side, but his axe was already sweeping back. Ilven barely managed to bring up his dagger to deflect the blow, the force still sending him stumbling.

  Galdor flexed his muscles with an unnatural precision, the needles were pushed out with ease.

  "You'll need more than pin pricks to-" Galdor's taunt cut short as his leg buckled.

  Poison? This rat bastard!

  His face twisted in confusion as the poison began its work.

  An arrow whistled through the air. Ilven spun away as Fenri joined the fray, bow singing. The archer's shots came in rapid succession, forcing Ilven to stay mobile as Galdor struggled to his feet.

  Ilven waited for the perfect moment - when Fenri had to reach for another arrow. He surged forward, closing the distance. His beast bone dagger met Fenri's hastily drawn knife. They exchanged quick, brutal strikes, neither able to gain clear advantage.

  But Fenri's eyes kept darting to Galdor's increasingly unsteady form. That split second of divided attention was all Ilven needed. His dagger slipped past Fenri's guard, opening his stomach letting his guts spill.

  Behind him, Galdor collapsed to his knees, the poison finally taking full effect. His axe clattered to the ground as his strength failed him.

  "You... little..." The words died in his throat as he pitched forward, never to rise again.

  Ilven spared a glance behind him then walked over to Fenri, glaring at this past brother of his coldly.

  At that moment a worried Old Wugou walked out the house, the smoke having dissipated for a while.

  Ilven didn’t greet him however and kicked over Fenri who was trying to put his insides back in, not recognizing cruel reality.

  “Did you ever expect this day would come?” He coldly uttered.

  “Ha, pu~!” Fenri struggled to speak, “I guess me, pu-stealing that spiritual fruit didn’t stop you in the end, now y, you got something even better. Isn’t that right?”

  Blood leaked from his mouth matching Ilven’s but he was in much worse shape, there was no saving him even the high grade healing pills Ilven had couldn’t work such a miracle. Not that he would want it to.

  “So, how much is it. We asked around, t-the store, you didn’t sell it there, but you didn’t come back with that largest bag full, y-you, sold it to the mad lions, didn’t you?”

  “…”

  “You d-don’t have to say anything, I know. Something worthy of them buying, it must be extremely valuable.” Fenri seemed extra enthusiastic as if he had a part in the profits, as if they were still in a team, as if it were all a dream.

  When close to death one often hallucinated.

  Old Wugou stood behind Ilven and somberly looked at this young man who once shared a few dinners at their house and took a deep sigh.

  Initially he hated him for what he had done but he was just a simple orphan trying to make his way in this world.

  Now, all that ended in tragedy.

  “I wonder if—” Fenri attempted to speak.

  Bang!

  The sound of a gunshot broke the air.

  Fenri closed his eyes with a smile, a fierce smile, bloodied and cruel.

  IIven slowly looked behind him and saw Old Wugou reaching out towards him gasping for air, a hole in his chest.

  He fell forwards into his arms.

  ...What?