The bandit leader’s face twisted with rage, spittle flying from his lips. "Archers.... FIRE!" he roared, his voice breaking in frantic desperation.
Ten bows snapped in unison. The hiss of arrows split the air, a deadly storm streaking toward the masked figure.
But Zeon didn’t move.
He stood tall, daggers spinning casually in his hands, as though he were rely waiting for sothing amusing. Then.... in the blink of an eye, one dagger flicked upward. tal clashed against wood and iron with sharp, ringing bursts. Clang! Clang! Clang!
Arrows shattered and fell uselessly to the dirt. His blade moved faster than the eye could follow, the swiftness so clean that not a single shot passed him. Dust kicked up around his boots, caught in the sunlight, while his mask tilted lazily as if he had barely lifted a finger.
Zeon yawned. A long, mocking sound that echoed louder than the arrows themselves. "Haaaaaaa.... is that all you’ve got?" His voice carried calm contempt, the tone of a man so far above his enemies that their effort was nothing but entertainnt. "Or are you just playing with ? I don’t have all day, you know."
The barren road around them lay silent except for the groans of the wind. The horses stomped nervously in their harnesses, ears flicking, sensing the storm of killing intent cloaked around Zeon. Dust rolled across the open plain, swirling like faint ghosts around his boots.
The bandit leader’s grin twisted into a snarl, his forehead slick with sweat. He slamd his sword forward and scread, his voice cracking with fury. "Shut up.... and die!"
But Zeon only tilted his head, the single eye visible through his mask narrowing with amusent. His daggers shimred faintly in the sunlight, like fangs of a predator ready to strike.
And for the first ti, the laughter of the bandits faltered.
The leader’s face turned red with fury. His veins bulged as he scread, spittle flying from his lips. "Swordsn.... ATTACK!"
Seven of his n charged with blades raised, their footsteps thundering against the dirt road. The other two tightened their grips on Dila and Fran, pressing cold steel against their necks to keep them from even twitching. The leader himself fumbled at his waist, drawing his sword while barking orders like a mad dog, his voice cracking under the strain.
Zeon stretched his arms with a lazy motion, tilting his head until his neck cracked. Then he yawned again, long and unbothered. "Haaaaaaa...." The sound carried louder than the bandits’ war cries, filled with mockery. His shoulders slouched as though this was nothing but an inconvenience. "Maybe I should just grab a drink.... a good beer would cure this boredom better than any of you."
The first swordsman lunged, screaming, "Haaaaa!" His blade cut down toward Zeon’s head with desperate force.
Zeon barely moved. A flick of his wrist, a twist of his dagger.... clang! The sword was parried aside in a slant, and in the sa breath his other dagger slid across the man’s chest in a single, fluid motion. Steel whispered. Blood followed.
Zeon smiled faintly behind the mask, his eye glinting like a predator’s. "Oops.... sorry." A low laugh slipped through his teeth. "Hahahahaha."
The bandit froze mid-stride. His mouth opened in a strangled sound, eyes widening in disbelief as he stumbled forward. His blade slipped from his hand. "Y-you’ll pay for this....!" But the words cut short as his body split open, collapsing to the dirt with a heavy thud. His eyes stared blankly, frozen in terror.
The six others skidded back, their boots grinding into the dirt. "B-Boss!" one shouted, voice cracking. "He’s too powerful!" Another’s hands shook so badly he nearly dropped his weapon. Their bravado lted away, leaving only fear in their trembling eyes.
Zeon didn’t even look at them. He turned his head slightly, holding up his dagger like a mirror, examining the faint speck of blood on the blade as though it were a blemish. Then he shifted, checking his nails casually, his tone almost bored.
"Don’t look at ...." His voice was soft, but it carried sharp through the silence. "I’m just doing my job."
The weight of his words pressed over the entire road. The horses neighed wildly, stomping as though trying to flee. Dust spun in the air, caught in the sun like drifting ash.
Dila clutched her chest with trembling hands. Her blue eyes widened, her breath uneven as goosebumps prickled along her skin. Fran, still while now being hold by rough hands again, felt her tail stiffen and her ears flatten against her head, her body shivering despite her stubborn grip on her dagger.
Both of them realized it at once.... Zeon was not like them. He wasn’t struggling. He wasn’t desperate. He was sothing else entirely.
And it terrified them.
The bandit leader’s voice cracked again, spit flying from his mouth as desperation bled through his anger. "Archers.... ATTACK! Loose your arrows!"
The ten bown drew back as one, their strings groaning before releasing with a thunderous thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip. The sky filled with death, black shafts streaking toward Zeon like a storm.
Zeon didn’t even flinch. He twirled one dagger, his movents smooth and precise, and with a flick of his arm he batted away five arrows mid-flight, steel ringing against wood as they splintered and fell uselessly into the dirt.
The other five arrows streaked past him—only to stop.
Without warning, Zeon’s free hand snapped upward, snatching all five out of the air with inhuman speed. Dust whirled around him as he shifted his stance, not even looking at the n in front of him. His masked face tilted instead to his other hand, as though examining sothing trivial on his fingers.
Then.... whip!
With a casual flick, he hurled the arrows back. They spun like lightning, whistling through the air. Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip! Each one buried itself deep into the skull of its original owner.
Five heads jerked back at once. Five voices cut off in a strangled gasp. Their eyes froze wide in disbelief, mouths hanging open as blood stread down their foreheads. Their bodies slumped and collapsed almost in unison, hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.
The ground was littered with corpses before the echo of their screams had even faded.
Zeon tilted his head, watching his blood-sared fingers in mock curiosity. His voice dripped with a sick, playful cheer as he said, "Ohhhh.... my hand must’ve moved on its own." His masked grin turned toward the survivors. "And now.... your five archer n are dead.... yehey."
He even clapped once, as though applauding himself, though his focus was still sowhere else entirely—careless, distracted, detached from the carnage.
The remaining five archers stared at the lifeless bodies of their comrades, arrows still jutting grotesquely from their skulls. Their bows trembled in their hands. One finally broke, his scream tearing through the tense air. "Aaaaaahhh! No! We must run! We’ll die if we stay!"
The others wavered, fear rising like a tide.
But the bandit leader’s face twisted into sothing darker. His eyes widened, whites glaring against the shadow of his brow, veins bulging with rage. "NO! Stay your ground!" he bellowed, his voice cracking like thunder. "Our loot is worth more than your pathetic lives!"
"But.... but boss!" one of the archers stamred, sweat running down his dirt-streaked face. "We can’t spend the loot if we’re dead! Look at them! Look at him!" His shaking finger pointed to Zeon, who hadn’t moved from his place, standing calm amidst the chaos like death itself.
The leader’s lips curled into a snarl. His voice dropped, darker, colder than before. "If you run.... I’ll kill you myself." His grip tightened on his sword, the veins in his hands bulging, his knuckles white. His eyes burned with a madness that chilled even his own n.
The archers froze, caught between two deaths.... the monster before them, and the monster commanding them.
Behind the bandits, Dila’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her breath ca quick and shallow, her hands pulsing tightly. Fran’s teeth clenched as her cat ears now more flattened against her head, her tail stiff with fear, every muscle trembling as her instincts scread to escape.
But there was no escape. Only Zeon.... standing casually, daggers glinting, his presence heavy enough to suffocate the entire barren road.
Zeon began to walk forward, slow and disinterested, his masked face tilted slightly down. His voice ca low, almost bored, as though this wasn’t even worth his ti.
"Oh well.... looks like I need to save the two after all."
His boots crunched against the dirt as he ducked his head, eyes fixed lazily on the ground.
"Kill him!" one swordsman scread, charging with a wild swing.
Zeon didn’t even draw his dagger. His fist ca up in a brutal uppercut.
CRACK!
The man’s skull caved in under the sheer force. His body flew back, collapsing lifelessly, his head bent at a grotesque angle.
"Ha!" another shouted, blade slicing through the air.
Zeon didn’t flinch. He pivoted and slamd his fist sideways.
SMASH!
The second bandit’s skull split with a sickening sound, blood spraying across the dirt as his body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Two," Zeon muttered flatly, brushing blood from his knuckles.
Another bandit, eyes wide with fear but desperate, leapt at him with a wild scream. "Haaaaaaa!"
Zeon’s foot shot up in a sharp kick.
CRACK!
The man’s face shattered like porcelain, his skull crunching against the earth as his body folded unnaturally.
"Three." Zeon’s voice was casual, bored.
That was enough. The remaining swordsn froze. Then panic seized them, and in an instant they broke ranks, screaming.
"Run! Run for your lives!"
They bolted into the barren road, abandoning all thought of loot.
The only ones left were the two n holding Dila and Fran, and the bandit leader who still clutched his sword with trembling hands.
The leader’s face twisted in rage and desperation. His voice cracked as he barked, "Don’t let him near! If he cos closer, cut their heads off!"
The two who restrained the sisters pressed their blades tighter against Dila’s and Fran’s necks, their hands shaking violently.
"Stay back! One step closer and they die!"
Dila whimpered, her body trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling, the cold steel biting against her skin. Fran clutched her sister tightly, glaring with sharp, defiant eyes, though her small body trembled.
The bandit leader shouted again, "No! I changed my mind!! Don’t damage the product! Do you hear ? If there’s even a scratch—"
One of the n snapped back, his voice cracking. "Boss, screw the product! Our lives matter more than your damn coin!"
"Yeah!" the second added, his blade still pressed against Fran’s throat. His voice shook. "We’re not dying for this!"
The leader’s eyes flared with madness. "No buts! Do as I—"
SHHHK!
Neither bandit finished their plea.
In the blink of an eye, their heads were no longer attached to their bodies. Blood geysered from the stumps, spraying hot across the dirt, soaking the girls’ sandals. The bodies spasd once, then toppled lifelessly.
Dila scread. "Ahhhhhhh!" She clutched herself, pressing against Fran as tightly as she could. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes wide in horror. "I.... I never thought it would be this bloody.... s-so much.... so many bodies...." Her voice broke as tears stread down her face.
Fran pulled her into her chest, rubbing her back, whispering shakily, "It’s okay.... it’s okay, sister.... don’t look.... just stay with ."
But Dila could still see it. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she could still hear it.... the gurgle of blood, the heavy thud of headless corpses collapsing.
Zeon stood before them, both severed heads dangling from his hands, blood dripping between his fingers. He lifted them up, tilting them side to side, looking into their lifeless eyes.
Then he whispered, almost playfully, his masked face tilting.
"Pikaboo."
Dila has froze, covering her mouth with her trembling hand. Fran’s ears continued flattened against her head, her tail stiff, her entire body frozen in fear.
The bandit leader was the only one left standing. His sword trembled violently in his hands, his face pale as chalk. The veins in his forehead throbbed, but his legs refused to move.
"You.... you sick bastard!" he scread, voice cracking in terror.
Zeon turned his head lazily toward him. His sigh was long, uninterested, almost mocking.
"Huhhh...."
The sound alone sent a chill down the leader’s spine.
Then suddenly, with a violent flick of his arm, he hurled one of the heads. It struck the leader’s arm with such brutal force that the limb tore away, blood spraying across the dirt. The leader wailed, falling to his knees.
"Arrrgggghhhhhh!" His scream echoed in the silence of the barren land.
The second head followed. It crashed against the leader’s skull with bone-crushing force, splattering blood and shattering him headless in an instant. His body dropped like a broken puppet, lifeless.
Zeon’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp. "Flesh is weak. Easily destroyed."
Dila, trembling, tears welling in her eyes, shouted hoarsely at him, "You... you sick psycho!"
For a mont, Zeon didn’t move. His gaze drifted, crimson eyes distant and hollow, as if looking at sothing far away that no one else could see. Then he muttered, almost too soft to catch, "Say whatever you want... Princess. My work here is done."
The battlefield reeked of blood, broken bodies scattered around. Dila’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands clinging to Fran’s sleeves, as Zeon’s silhouette lingered.... detached from the world around him.
Zeon still stood there, blood dripping from his hands, the battlefield still littered with broken bodies. His crimson eyes flickered once again, empty and unreadable, before his form began to blur.
Dark smoke coiled around his body, crawling up from his boots to his shoulders, swallowing him whole. The air turned cold, the stench of iron and death thickening as the black haze consud him.
Dila’s breath caught in her throat. "He’s... going?..." she whispered, voice trembling. Fran held her tighter, her wide eyes locked on the dissolving figure.
The last thing they saw was his faint silhouette.... eyes distant, detached, as if he had never belonged in the world of the living. Then, with a hiss like smoldering embers, Zeon was gone.
The smoke scattered into the wind, leaving only silence.... and the blood-soaked ground as proof he had ever been there.
Dila’s hands shook as she pressed them to her chest, her voice breaking. "That... monster..." Her eyes watered, torn between fear and disbelief.
Fran rested her forehead lightly against Dila’s, trying to steady her. "It’s over now.... He’s gone." But her own voice quivered, betraying her unease that how deadly he was with no hesitation.
All that remained of Zeon was the lingering darkness in the air.... a reminder that he had saved them, but in a way that felt far more terrifying than their captors ever had.
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