Granger received the letter about a week ago, and the meeting on the known pub had commenced. Their chief is affiliated with the owner of the pub, and that is no surprise for their district, to be quite frank, after all, he wouldn't be held leader of the east demon hunter association, if not for his several links.

The discussion was plain, Granger was only listening as the lead of their district tackled about information that was gathered from the few, assigned hunters tasked to observe the aforementioned den. Granger is one of the few who is assigned in terms of initiating combat, as well as one that is able to wield the guns. Gunslingers are usually rare to find, that's why the marksman would be amused if his eyes were to see one, wielding a similar weapon to his, very much like that sniper back at the tavern.

Meanwhile, the black kitten he found is no longer up for adoption. Since no one seemed interested in taking her up, he didn't want to force the kitten on a different owner. Despite the lack of care he has for himself, probably out of self-loathe even him couldn't understand, Lev didn't want to leave the marksman alone, even if Alucard's pats were much warmer for her. Granger's pretty sure the kitten only acts upon instinct since Lev was saved from the terror that irrational superstitious people had given her, the marksman scent provided her a sense of comfort and security.

The sun rose up again, its annoying rays seeping through the marksman's eyelids as another case of dark circles formed under his sleep-deprived eyes.

What a great day... to shoot the sun and get rid of its heat.

Granger grunts and sat up onto the edge of the mattress, with Lev sleeping quietly onto her small, makeshift bed made out of the marksman's cottony blanket. He decides to leave while the kitten is asleep, else he'd have to go out alongside the clingy feline, and he'd have to be extra careful, because of that. He just simply can't risk losing the cat and with that, he hurried outside, along with his bag of coins, placed onto the inner pocket of his silk coat.

As soon as he went out of the inn, he captured a few stares of judgement, but he gave it no mind, years and years of being judged, he's just used to it by now. The stares that could tell what they're thinking off, humans are easy to read this way. He developed that telephatic sixth sense just by observing other people, since he doesn't have that much to do, or more like, he doesn't have something to distract him. His presence is barely a thing, but when it is, judgement awaits.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a small kiosk, selling tons of bracelets that piqued his attention. Since Lev is a new part of the family, it would be nice to give her a welcoming gift, wouldn't it? He approached the small space, causing the old lady to look at him, adjusting her scarf that she wore over his head, scrutinizing his features deemed intimidating. The woman still wore a welcoming smile onto her face, before introducing the bracelets she sells, and Granger, deep inside, felt a bit relieved to not receive the usual treatment everyone is giving him.

The tip of the marksman's fingers brushes against the beads, his eyes trailing after it. "I'm surprised that you don't find me intimidating at all..." Granger spoke in his natural, low tone, scanning over the available bracelets, seeing what's fitting for the kitten to wear.

"One shan't judge a person by his clothes, nor the expression one has upon his face." The old lady replied with a small smile, before the cloth draped over her eyes once more. Granger lifted a certain bracelet, made specifically of wool, knitted altogether, neatly and cozy for Lev to wear. He met the eyes of the lady and he grinned lopsidedly at the woman he found so kind and sweet.

He gave the payment in exchange of the knitted bracelet, the neutral look upon his eyes shifting into that of a tender look, that greatly changed the supposedly "intimidating" aura to a soft, tender one.

He kept the bracelet in his pocket, beneath the lapels of his silk coat and he strides across the marketplace, looking around, see what interests him since he had recently gotten his pay. You could say it's a little something for spoiling himself, his own way of self-care despite the self-loathe that etches through his veins.

The marketplace is loud, like the usual, and there are quite a lot of travellers that come across the district, which explains a lot about the overpricing of products that had happened lately.

Humans are advantageous, aren't they? Such selfish fools.

Granger clicks his tongue in annoyance and he leans back at the nearest brick wall to rest. The sun's heat isn't helping him much, it only annoys him further, or it might've been the cause of him sleep-deprived that makes him feel so grumpy and mad at the sun. The marksman sighed and he closes his eyes for a bit, his arms crossed over his chest.

Ths distant noise of the marketplace, it leaves a nostalgic feeling, similar to the monastery being packed with abandoned children. Hearing the loud footsteps, their screams out of joy that is completely in contrast with Granger. Happiness was long dead, for him.

Even with the defeaning noise coming frpm the marketplace, his eyes widened at the hear of a faint scream, before it was suddenly muffled and he turned his head towards the direction of the voice. A huge man was covering the woman's mouth, forcefully dragging her out of the crowd, her being small and helpless in the large man's hold.

The man didn't notice that he was there and he trails after the man's step meticulously, the marksman acting by his instinct of saving those who are in need.

This is clearly kidnapping, isn't it?

The woman sees him and is crying, wanting to be helped but she was smart enough not to pull his cover. He was surprised that the path lead towards the abandoned den, the all too familiar den that is the subject of his current mission. He had only brought his revolver upon his leg holsters, he crouches behind the large building adjacent to the den, and as expected, the large man went in alongside the woman.

I wasn't informed that kidnapping takes place in here too. But for what reason? Granger thought to himself. It would be way too dangerous to go in alone, not without the team. The association is still plotting out their plans of taking over the den, him involved, and it is not the perfect time to engage. Yet the guilt of not being able to save the woman, it replays at the back of his mind like echoes, just like the choices he regretted. The insomnias itself is a big bother, his inconsistent body clock that leaves the large bags under his eyes, barely having an hour sleep.

The demons inside of him keeps him awake.

The marksman gritted his teeth, pulling out the revolver swiftly from his leg holsters, hesitating his plans, the back of his head flat against the wall, his body torn to strike or no.

"I don't want to regret this." He mumbles to himself, scooting against the side of the building, trying to get a peek over what is inside through the windows. He cautiously turned his head, slowly but surely, side-eyeing the large man on what seems to be a room full of bandits. He sees a glint of gold from the floor, and there were men sitting around it, with their loud laughs of joy, stealing from the opressed.

The marksman's eyes twitch from the foolishness, only to hear the woman's scream once more as her face was shoved down onto a nearby table that made Granger pull back, not wanting his presence to be seen. He couldn't help but grit his teeth in fury, hearing the cries of the woman near yet he had barely done a thing to save her.

Even with his life at risk, his body is so selfish.

Comes from the man who barely takes care after himself after all, but know how to care for the others well.

He took the other revolver from his left leg holster, and slowly made his way back to the door, surprisingly left open, peeking his eyes through the small opening to investigate. It seems like all of them are in the main room, where as no one stays in the receiving area.

He slides in, trying his best not to come contact with the door, lest it'll creak and would expose his cover, and he doesn't want to alert the bandits, after all. He is alone, when he should be with his team preparing for the attack, yet he finds himself hidden against the walls, the room dim, and he could only hear the conversation between the bandits, laughs of amusement alongside the loud thuds coming from the distant table where the woman's face was shoved into.

These goddamned pricks think they could just kidnap and mistreat a woman like that for their amusement. Such a disgrace to the empire, disguting criminals. These people who had lost themselves by the clinking of gold, and the pitiful screams of women.

Granger felt his heart beating fast, but there is no turning back now. Do or die, it had become. He wouldn't be living a life of regrets, even if his life gets taken away, at least, for somebody else, his life ended good.

He must save the woman.

Granger recalls that they weren't possessing any arms, except for the tall man who took the woman and led her here. A bandit remarked of the pitter patter of rain, trickling down the windows, followed by a clash of thunder echoing in the empty room he is in. At this point, the woman's screams are muffled by the heavy drips of rain, it wouldn't even be able to alert any of the neighbouring buildings, and Granger being this close isn't even helping.

Even if you scream out, it feels like you are voiceless.

Fury coursed through his veins, the moment he had thought about being voiceless, for he, underwent the same feeling. It may not be physically, but it is rather, a scar in his heart that could never be erased.

He hears a faint gasp from one of the cruel men, as the candles died down as air went through a window left ajar.

"I can't see!" Another voiced out, and as if on cue, he stepped out and appeared by the entrance of the room, his gun held out and aimed at the tall man, and with no hesitation, hooking at the trigger that sent a bullet straight at the back of his head, his weight falling down onto the ground.

There were three bandits left, and thanks to his eye instinct, he managed to shoot at the hand of the man who was about to grab at his sword, another shot fired straight to his chest with his blood spilling all over the walls like paint. He immediately used the last bullet of the revolver on his left hand, the bullet went straight to his chest that caused him to lean forward at the impact on his behind, his body collapsing down with a large thud against the floor.

He had a neutral look set onto his face at the bloodbath before him, the woman cowering in fear, curled onto herself beneath the table with her hands quivering wildly against her ears.

'Where could the last one be?' Granger asked to himself, seeing a few of the gold still scattered onto the carpeted floor.

He mentally cursed at himself for letting once escape as he took easy steps into the center of the room, seeing a path by his left with a door, swinging open. He grits his teeth, as it is already useless for him to chase after the last one.

As if on cue, he hears another shot of what seemed like came from a sniper afar, the bullet hitting against the swinging floor and a sound of a bag falling down from grasp with the clinking of coins heard.

That must be association's.

At least he doesn't have to worry about the last bandit anymore.

He turned his body towards the woman, taking slow and easy steps before crouching down carefully, her sniffs and cries becoming more prominent, and her sobs echoing in the room.

"It is fine, lady." Unable to form words, him being unknowledgeable when it comes to verbal comforting. He doesn't want to lay a hand on the woman, knowing she is suffering in trauma after what had happened.

The lady slumps down, gasping, her chest heaving and her eyes dilated, and he quickly came to aid when he collapses down, luckily onto Granger's arm, capturing her before she lose consciousness at the experience.

He does what he had to do, carrying the woman in his arms, only to hear footsteps approaching, meeting a man of the same height, his hair colored into streaks of violet that runs towards the back. He had a white shirt beneath the black, silk coat, and a tall, shoulder guard placed lopsidedly onto his right shoulder.

His neutral gaze met the serious ones of the man, noticing the blades he held onto his hand. It was the man from the tavern, with that fancy woman holding a pink, sniper umbrella.

The roar of silence itself was defeaning between the two, the assassin scanning the room seeing the dead bodies of the bandits and the pile of gold on the floor.