A room as dark as night, only illuminated by high-definition screen backlight. The faint blue guided a beautiful woman with long, orange hair down a glossy tile hallway. She had a blankness about her expression as she was proper in all ways. Her maid attire swayed in their sterile air, bounced with her routine steps towards a figure with purpose. This shadow relaxed in a revolving office chair fashioned of high quality leather. "You have a call, Master Senyo," she addressed.

She was struck with quivered feet, overtaken when the shadow revolved his chair just out of her line. Senyo styled his black hair in a slicked-back combover, wearing a  three-piece black suit and designer glasses. His wrinkled white dress shirt beneath had been drenched in rain and sweat. He sat proudly with a snakelike slump. His heart matched his posture: a serpent unwound.

The shadow's face contorted a familiar grin. 

His attention never strayed from the screens. He was deep in anticipation for something, twirling a glass of wine with a sort of lazy effort.

"Put it through, Lauren," said Senyo finally. Lauren pointed a remote at the screens and activated the transmission. Static gave way partially to scattered images.

"As you wish, my lord." 

A daunting, inhuman figure filled the screen in rough clarity. He was surrounded by a dark, metallic room with a faint red glow about it. A bulk of the interior was supported by a metal uncommon in human settlements. The smelted ore known as Brokchalcium, a mutated Obsidian chunk, crafted the jagged struts and beams around what appeared to be a cave. Nothing too crazy on its own. However, the impossibly bent state in which the metal sustained was boggling. Not even the torque of two tons could ever hope to inch the ore's mighty mass.

A keen eye would depict their serrated architecture as something alien or just plain uncommon for the everyday set of pupils. But common to everyone, the structures spelled few things: ruthlessness. Death lye ahead.

An oval of digital red pooled in the center of a grand table. It crackled and sparked blips of life. But these very same blips were blinking away.

Screams and gut-wrenching roars carved beyond the cave, overheard on the transmission if only in murmurs. Undeniable, however, were their symmetry with the board's starving population.

"Senyo!—we need to have a talk ... Right. Now." He growled furiously against an iron jaw caste, desperately grasped for rationale as to not dent the black ore further than it had been beaten.

His very presence was an antiquated piece of this land. Scars etched their stories around his entire body.

Tales of wars.

Memories of betrayal.

The years built a wretched and bitter heart. It was anyone's guess as to where the light manifested behind his gaze. The unknown creature also donned a blood red cape over his back while his upper body remained exposed to challenge any naysayers and their pride.

Of course, Senyo accepted this forward invitation like a welcomed friend. "Now, now. No need to get violent! What seems to be the problem, General Gore?" His approach was formal, yet loose with smarm. Gore pointed his finger to the screen as he stared Senyo down with his empty, glowing gaze.

"The problem, you ask?!" he roared. "Your so-called 'pet' is killing more of my men with each passing second! We can't hold this thing!" His snarl exposed a plot of mangled scar tissue. 

Now, a light ousted markings shaped of a silhouetted phoenix  atop the strange creature's forehead. It was connected by multiple converging lines forming around his bald head. These divots lined skin deep and seemed to pulsate with a strange life.

He wore one steel shoulder guard on his right, bearing their insignia in the form of a solid gold badge. It looked to be a serpent, fangs out and dripping venom, hatching from an egg. The rise of a feared enemy. "If you want us to bring Gyone Irensho to you, we are going to need our men at peak potential." Senyo's expression soured. "And as it stands, I'm already down twenty. Bodies lye on both of our hands, mongrel. You said this thing would aid in our ambush! Tell me what you plan to do to avenge our people!"

Senyo straightened from his chair with an itch, that nag which resulted in somebody getting fired. Something the young, twenty-two-year-old head of Genshika Inc. has adopted in the most literal execution. "Okay," he sighed, "I'll bring her back here if she's such a burden. But that's coming out of your pay."

Gore's very composure toppled.

"Would you mind running that by me again, human?!" On the verge of erupting. Senyo slyly began stroking his chin, pondered, looking up with a newfound light.

"Well, you see, General," he said. "There are the transportation costs, the manpower to restrain ... hmm, oh! And those delicious treats she ever so adores!" And it was clear from his grin that Senyo could go on.

The conditions were set. But the humanoid tank wasn't satisfied. His iron jaw was close to unloading a warhead indiscriminately, in the serpent's direction.

Senyo dared further: "But if that doesn't work for you ... I could always just leave her there for good. Wouldn't that be swell?"

General Gore ignited with a thunderous scream.

On instinct, he smashed his fist on the solid steel pillar next to him. The impact failed to even phase his stance: locked to the ground and melded in concrete. However, it did result in the beam being critically damaged and bent, causing rocks from above to trickle.

"Fine, you tenacious piece of trash! I accept the conditions. Anything's better than watching my men get eaten by that damn monster!" Gore's divine eyes burned through Senyo, strangled him silently. "But you better pay up when this little hunt of yours is over, understand?

"100,000 credits, as promised! Or I swear to the Spirits I'm going to-"

"Fine, fine," replied Senyo with a wave of the hand. "Though, we'd better bring that down to 95,000. That should cover it." Disgruntled growls could be heard. Then the transmission turned to static.

Senyo slouched back in his chair. "Why do I even bother, Lauren?" he asked. "You'd think a whole army could hold just one monster," exclaimed Senyo as he slumped back into his chair. Lauren collected the empty wine glass and placed it onto a tray, of which held the full bottle: "King's Stash." A finely-aged red wine worth a dozen fortunes.

"Well, Master, if a whole army of brutes like them can't hold her down, Gyone can't possibly hope to take on such a monster." Lauren's assurance was strange, words stumbling out of her comfort zone. She hoped that he'd understand-

He laughed.

"If you think that, then you really don't know Gyone like I do."

"What do you mean my lord?" gently pushed Lauren.

"Three confirmed kills as of four days ago.

"Our boy took them out within the same hour, but seemed to take a nap or something not long after." Lauren could only stand silent, utterly baffled by the thought alone.

"Are ... Are you sure he was alone, Master?"

"Please—wherever Gyone's going, he hasn't got a single hole to scurry into. No friends, no allies – nothing. If he's not alone, then it's whoever's unlucky enough to cross his path.

"One thing's for sure, right?"

"Hmm?" Lauren's curiosity peaked.

"I sure do know how to pick 'em, don't I?"

* * *

Gyone found himself on-route to a city massive in scale, as could be seen in the distance over an upcoming cliff side. Where he wandered, escarpment layers bent in a semicircular fashion, stacked to entrench a plot of desert plains.

"Oh great," he groaned, pausing his advance shy of the edge. "Halsberth: home of religious asshats who can't get along! I wonder if there's another town around h-" His stomach growled, and the pup whined in grating hunger like far beyond feeding time. Instantly, scurrying around civilization would not fly. "Ugh, fine! But I swear, if one of them pushes a pamphlet in my face, I'm going ballistic ..."

The traveling hunter found himself left to wander, to ruminate while staring at the orange-tinted, afternoon sky; almost trancelike in attention. Clouds swiveled across faraway stretches and slowly converged in the center like a family reunion.

I wonder what had happened that day ... I don't remember a damn thing about dying. Or more so, why Shigiro would want me dead to begin with. You'd think I'd at least have some recollection of hitting the ground, but. Nothing. How'd he pull it off? And why? While we're at it: that dream ... Was that really Mia I was talking to? Or was it just some kind of reminder? It felt so ... real.

Ah!—none of this makes the slightest bit of sense!

Oh well, illusion or not, I'd better hurry back home. She must have already done some grieving, poor girl ... I can't wait to see the look on her face when I walk into that crappy apartment of ours and scare her pissless."

Reassessed, Gyone then stared down at the puppy, following every last footstep to the tee.

And hey, he momentarily shrugged, she always wanted a dog. Silver linings, Gyone – you're in the clear.

The hunter's concentration was broken, the sound of voices cackling madly from below pined for his attention. They were partitioned only by a daring leap from this strata halfpipe.

Rushing forward, he looked to find a toppled carriage set ablaze. Horses mangled and cut from their rains. Passengers, too, were slaughtered by grisly means.

Further inspection brought his attention to a group of creatures chasing a teenage girl. Mobilized, well-armored. And unwavering.

She was around Gyone's height – give or take a few inches. Her short, yellowish-green hair barely reached to her shoulders, slightly flowed through her velocity like lilies in bloom. She wore a light-blue Kimono dress which was etched with an indistinguishable flower pattern. Quite an elegant piece of clothing. Definitely not cheap. A glorified bullseye.

Or her teal travel bag. Wouldn't matter, anyway.

Gyone recalled her pursuers.

One good look of their rigid features and elaborate markings all but confirmed the hunter's intuition as he was enamored by the scene.

"Anubians ... Goddamn monsters are going to rip that poor girl apart if I don't do something!" He hiccupped with apprehension. "But ... Mia ...

"Ah, screw it! You ready for some action, pup?"

The pup expressed his excitement with a shy bark, certainly not from a seasoned hunting hound. Gyone nodded, scooped up the pup as he plunged into a leap of faith.

From his abandon, the hunter's luck landed them as to ride the jagged wave. Turbulence aside, sizzling rocks accompanied their descent. A glass house with a handful of stones: the sort of delicate brush Gyone lived for.

The duo skidded down with spectacular fashion.

With a purpose, they bolted for the horde's direction, giving chase to the chasers.

Right on target.

They found a comfy distance and rapidly gained ground. At its tip, Gyone halted.

"Hey guys!" he shouted.

Many of their attentions seized; four of the group of five. They shot back hungry eyes, examined Gyone as if to determine if he was worth the trouble.

His oddities ticked their curiosity, strung up fresh meat for the picking.

"Which one of you spineless creatures wants a real fight, huh?!" Gale now at the ready. The pup was energized and riled up. He began to bark viciously.

Though Gyone were aware of their existence, he wasn't sure if the Anubians even spoke the same tongue. In the still, the pup snarled his fangs. Razor sharp.

Useful in a firefight.

A moment passed. Then, a breakthrough.

"And just who the hell are you?" yelled one of the Anubians in fluent English.

First contact, for all it was worth.

"Wait just one damn minute," interjected another beefier Anubian donning a steel cuirass. His jowls like crunching gravel, he stepped forward and unraveled a sheet of paper. "Are you—uh. Gyone Irensho?"

Gyone attempted to be cautious, but that name basis really shot up his ego.

"I am, yes. Been looking for an ass-kicking, I take it?" He took to gloating, stretched his arms to the sky as if to casually pop his back.

The Anubian began to laugh slowly, building up to a hardy howl which caught on with the rest like a disease. He then looked around to the horde, smitten with a scarred, razor-toothed grin.

"Hear that boys? Then you're comin' with us, great Silent Death of Crygor!"

Gyone's pride faulted.

That was what he was called by, but nobody knew Gyone and the Silent Death to be one in the same.

The title, soaked in blood. The Silent Death had its believers and hopefuls, but the common consensus around was a wish to see him dead. His bullet ended a tyrannical reign of forced monarchy, yet the very same ended lives of shady gamblers; each with a lucrative payout. Far from charity work.

However, his life in general has always been a delicate balance of money and morality, even without the alter ego shadowing his everyman life of old.

Perplexed, the hunter's head was assaulted.

What? How do they- was all he could muster before nearly being blindsided by a surprise swing, the sharp face of a curved sword – courtesy of the big brute. The rest rushed in and took their place, circling around him hopelessly.

Gyone grasped onto Gale with both hands, relaxed on the handle, then arced towards the brute in a spinning motion. The brute sluggishly blocked the oncoming attack and met the hunter's stare.

Vicious, white eyes, bloodshot branches creeping from the sides.

The furious warrior beamed his several tours of war into Gyone's gut. And the Anubian made it clear he was far from retirement. This would only be a topping to a growing stack of bodies.

With only so much strength to hold, Gyone scrambled to find a solution to dispatch his opponent, or at least slip by intact. Suddenly, the cocking of a gun whipped.

"Hold 'em steady!" shouted the gun bearer, his slugs beefy enough to blast heads into a memory.

"Wait, no!" Though the brute commanded, it was too late. Their hands had acted.

Cracks deployed a stray bullet with a ragged boom, rattling the firearm to the core. Gyone acted quickly and threw the brute around to the bullet's path. It connected in his upper back, ripping through his backplate.

He groaned in pain, stumbled away from their deadlock with no further fight to spare. Then he retreated, prompting the horde to converge even closer to the Silent Death. Only a glimpse of this and Gyone was quickly snuffing the distance, ready to smote the brute's guard.

Clenching his hands at the right moment, Gyone struck, connected with the brute's neck and sliced his head clean off.

Fresh blood splattered on the sand.

Now, the horde halted, held in jumbled grievance. One of the slimmer infantry called out, looking to the severed head in dismay.

"By Spirit's will ... Not the captain."

He unsheathed his sword and thrusted it forward, hungry for vengeance. He screamed a rallying battle cry.

"Avenge our brothe—augh!"

The cry failed.

His head was impaled with both blades straight through the ear.

Quickly retracting the blades, Gyone wasted no time, rushed into the remaining head-on; but not before he shifted his grasp to the strap. He let it drop down without weight, carried on by the beat of desert breeze. As he approached, he clenched onto the strap and brought it in motion to a single, hail-mary swing.

While luck continued to berate his fortune, luck had no say in his technique. And that technique was absolute.

Gyone's tempered thrust hooked onto one's neck, mowed his trachea like fresh crops. The dying infantry dropped to his knees as he clenched the wound with a grisly choke. The hunter's grip relaxed and naturally led the weapon into a spin; alongside himself as the fearless Silent Death ducked beneath her wrath, flowed with her motions.

One eager warrior attempted to swing, bringing his arm up to slice downward. But he met the same fate of a slit jugular which caused the sword to plunge midair, spiraling as it fell.

The remaining two each took a step back from the chaos.

Precious seconds each their own macabre nightmare.

A visceral bloodbath overwhelmed a race known for their sheer, independent strength. But they weren't going to go down without a fight. Each pulled a gun; one with a pistol slung, the other with an assault rifle brought into action from his back.

Gyone revealed to them, expected weapon in hand. However, the other hand held a surprise: the blade of the fallen swung alongside Gale. He sprang up and decapitated both, sprawling his arms out like that of a majestic bird while their bodies dropped lifeless.

Looks like he could never escape his calling. No matter how hard he tried. But he was damn sure to be the best there ever was.

Sounds of the teenager's cries brought the Silent Death out of his prowess state.

"Hang in there, chick!" he broke into a sprint.

Many yards ahead, but he soon found his way to the girl. And even then, to any other man, he would be too late.

He'd have to move quickly.

She was prone, left to wallow on the ground, kicking desperately at the creature.

But this failed shortly after.

The Anubian pulled the leg aside, moved with a spastic demeanor.

"Ya didn't think you'd get away from the Battered Bastards squad, did ya?!" He bellowed a cackling laughter. The girl—stripped of any rational escape—desperately clung to the dirt and attempted to pull herself from her captor.

A fleeting resistance.

He grabbed her by the hair, yanked her closer and pressed a small blade to her throat. Then regressed. Was he toying with her?

With a smirk like his, he was surely getting off.

"Here"—he hovered the blade just shy of her neck—"I'll make it quick, I promise!"

Suddenly, as the putrid, dried-out hand began its plunge, a stray grasp denied their climax. The Silent Death introduced himself, as he did to the Anubian's comrades just minutes before.

With the tip of a familiar blade.

Of his brothers and of his homeland.

Gyone pressed this slanted sword against the Anubian's back armor plate roughly.

Faced with this change of fate, the creature evoked a wide range of emotions, but mostly, a deeply-woven itch of fear.

"You've really got a way with women, don't you?" said Gyone.

"Hngah!"

The defeated could only wail an ugly growl from his chops. That was when as he gave mind to his comrade's corpses.

"Impossible, you are just one man! What blind did you lead with you to our slaughter?! Surely, deader than dirt since you're alone now!-"

"Shut up and let the girl go!" Gyone snapped. He let the blade pierce through the armor, catching flesh in many serrated hitches.

The Anubian proved to resemble something feral, but even his conviction to the kill couldn't brush a stab wound. He released the girl – no will of his own.

She frantically crawled away in a panic, looking back in awe. She moved to recover her carrying bag and clenched it like a newborn.

"Wait. You're no ordinary man, are you? ... You're-" Gyone maneuvered Gale swiftly around, placed its silver against the throat, effectively interrupting the trembling Anubian. He brandished both weapons in tandem.

"The 'Silent Death of Crygor,' that's right!" confirmed Gyone. "Are you a fan? They sure seemed like it."

"Are you s-serious? Everybody knows who you are! Ya think you're some kind of secret or something?!

"No way!

"The general has his eye on you. And he intends 'ta get his prize ... Mount you on the goddamn wall with a worn pike—just cleave inta' those guts like the worthless slab a' meat ya are!"

The nameless condemned powered through Gale's piercing stranglehold, deliberately scathing his own jugular just to face Gyone. Gleaming white irises fading fast and diming, as if once, they meant to shine like a star.

"D-do me a favor ... Be a good boy. And beg for your fucking life when he gets to ya!"

His last words spilled out with a maniacal sort of tone, but were his last nonetheless. Gyone finished off what the Anubian had started and deeply carved in, leaving the creature to bleed out on his own failing breath. Their body collapsed to the bloodstained sand, crashed into the ground unceremoniously with a cracking impact.

"Great talk.

"I'll see that somebody begs, don't worry."

A gust of wind caught onto Gyone's flowing grey hair in tattered waves.

The girl stared at him with innocent, gold eyes. Her lids moistened, overwhelmed. Her savior, donned in omens. Out here, brutality is the name of the game. That much, she brushed off. But he was something ... new.

As wild as the hunter appeared, she felt it rude to not thank him. She rose from the ground, patted herself down upon looking at her ruffled vesting. However, when she looked to observe Gyone once again, he was already heading off. As if driven by some obligation, she caught up.

"W-wait!"

Gyone stopped in his tracks and faced the damsel.

"What is it?" said Gyone, in a hurry to move on. But he parted with, "You'd better get going if you don't want them coming back for you."

"I know, it's just ..." The girl became hysterical. She broke into tears right away with an overwhelmed heave. "I n-need an escort t-to Halsberth. I need to get to my father and make sure he's safe!"

Gyone's interest peaked.

He looked to the bloody wreckage, then what he, himself, waged. Sympathy slowly worked witchcraft on the hunter's professional demeanor.

Was he just to leave her alone in the wasteland to fend for herself?

He soon turned back to the girl, of whom still desperately tried to keep her composure.

"Hmm. What's your name, first off?" asked Gyone, spinning Gale to her familiar rest.

"I-It's Eve ... M-my name is E-eve Muroshi." Gyone slowly smirked, shrugged with a "fuck it" sort of stare.

"Are you being hunted?"

"N-no ... We were on a g ... getaway."

Gyone was smitten with her pathetic display. Something about her vulnerability sparked the Silent Death's drive. Either that, or he wanted some friends to bounce snide wit off of.

The dog just wasn't going to cut it anymore.

"Well, Miss Muroshi: you happen to be in luck today. Because I was just on my way there, too."

Eve appeared to glow with newfound relief and excitement, tears appearing to halt their downpour.

"Really?!" she said. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" She bowed multiple times, hands held together like she was about to pray. "How can I ever repay you ... um?"

"Name's Gyone.

"Gyone Irensho. Welcome to our little ... huh?"

Gyone, looking about the land, expressed a certain amount of panic, then finally came to the realization that his new companion had run off.

"Hey pup! ... Pup!"

Suddenly, Eve's bag began to ruffle back and forth. Instinctively, she dropped it, fearing it were some sort of wild creature as she yelped. The pup emerged from the bag, crumbs littering his face as he licked his jowls. He then leapt from the bag and immediately ran to Gyone.

"Found him!" shouted Eve.

Gyone turned to face the dog, gleaming. He embraced the little guy with open arms when the pup plunged. The stern gun-for-hire laughed pleasantly...

...but he caught himself.

He took notice of Eve, a hand masked over her lips with giggles overflowing.

Vulnerability: a feeling he hadn't felt for quite some time.

Vulnerability, just as Eve had fully succumbed to.

"What's that look for?"

"You're just a big ol' sweetheart under that weird skull crap, aren't ya?" She felt a weight part from her conscience.

"No!" while evading eye contact.

"Yeah huh, admit it!"

"He just shouldn't be running off to nowhere—y'know? Dogs are very acute hunters in the wild. Stupid useful."

"Whatever you say, macho man."

Gyone glanced back and unwound his arms. The newfound trio looked to the horizon while the sun began its descent behind the Flamboro sierra range.

"I think it's time to get moving. No use just sitting around." Gyone began walking, beckoned Eve to follow with the wave of a hand.

Eve nodded in agreement and proceeded to walk with him, puppy trailing beside both near their middle.

Don't worry, Mia. One day, tops.