"Who the hell are you?!" the masked figure barked, shock cutting into his voice as he sprang backward, putting a good ten meters of distance between himself and the shadowy figure standing calmly before him.
The stranger's eyes gleamed coldly beneath the moonlight. His voice, steady and cutting like a dagger, answered without hesitation.
"Who I am doesn't matter." He took a step forward, his presence pressing down like a heavy storm. "But tell me... do you truly think it's acceptable to kill someone simply because they aren't human?"
Masaru's blood simmered beneath his skin as he spoke. The very thought of such cruelty — the strong preying upon the weak — reignited the fury he had buried deep inside for years. Once, he had been powerless to change anything, forced to accept the cruel reality of life, clenching his fists in frustration.
But things were different now.
He had strength — not immense, but enough.
Enough to make a change wherever he could.
The swordsman narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "I see. So you're one of them too, huh? Good — now I don't have to hold back!" he roared, kicking off the ground with explosive force.
He became a blur, dashing at a terrifying speed — nearly 90 meters per second — his sword flashing in a deadly quick-draw, aiming to cleave Masaru clean in half.
But he never got the chance.
Before he had even covered half the distance, a sudden sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. He stumbled mid-stride, eyes wide in horror as he saw blood spraying from several small holes drilled through his body.
"Blood Bullet," Masaru said coldly, extending two fingers towards him, wisps of crimson mist trailing from his fingertips.
"A vampire...!" the masked gunner cursed under his breath, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped his revolver.
"Damn it! It's the worst possible matchup for us! They're close to peak strength without even transforming — our cell breaker rounds won't work!"
Masaru's form blurred once more. One second he was standing still — the next, he appeared behind the injured swordsman, his crimson blade slicing downward like a falling guillotine.
But the masked warrior was no amateur. With sharp instincts, he twisted his body, parrying the strike with a swift counterattack. The force behind it sent Masaru skidding backward across the cracked asphalt.
"Don't underestimate us just because we're only Rank One!" the swordsman spat, his weapon beginning to emit a faint, ghostly blue glow.
With a vicious swing, a crescent-shaped blade of compressed Aether exploded from the sword at point-blank range.
Masaru barely had time to raise his arms in defense.
The ethereal slash tore through his forearms with a sickening sound, nearly slicing his hands in half.
Gritting his teeth, Masaru leapt back instinctively, landing in front of the cowering boy he had come to protect. Blood streamed from his mangled hands, pooling at his feet.
But then, something remarkable happened.
The bleeding slowed... then stopped altogether.
Before the enemy's eyes, Masaru's flesh began to knit itself back together, mending at a pace almost too fast for the human eye to follow.
"Tch... damn it," Masaru hissed under his breath, watching as his crimson blade dissolved into misty tendrils, fading away.
He lifted his gaze toward the two hunters, a sardonic grin playing on his lips.
"I don't know what 'Rank One' means exactly," he said, voice sharp with mockery, "but I'm guessing it means you're the lowest in whatever organization sent you. Good for me.
Because if I can take down the bottom rung of an anti-nonhuman hunting squad..."
His eyes gleamed with unrestrained pride.
"...then it means I'm not weak anymore."
His voice rose into a shout, filled with raw conviction.
"Blood Creation — Twin Daggers!"
In an instant, red liquid materialized from thin air, congealing into two gleaming daggers, their surfaces glistening like rubies under the cold night sky.
Masaru moved.
The world seemed to freeze.
A single blink — and he was behind the swordsman, twin daggers slashing across his neck in a single, fluid arc.
The masked figure dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut, blood gushing from his fatal wound in a steady, grotesque river.
But Masaru had no time to savor the victory.
Gunfire roared — sharp, deafening cracks that echoed off the walls. Bullets tore into his limbs with brutal precision, forcing him down onto one knee.
Masaru's eyes widened in realization.
"Silver bullets...!" he cursed aloud, watching the wounds burn angrily from within. His regenerative abilities screeched to a halt, as if frozen by an invisible force.
The gunner chuckled darkly, cocking the hammer of his revolver with a practiced flick.
"Cell breaker rounds might be useless against vampires," he said, walking toward Masaru with a swagger, "but silver bullets? They're the perfect poison. And lucky for me... they're dirt cheap."
He stopped a few meters away, tossing his revolver aside with a clatter.
"But you know, shooting you in the head would be too easy."
His voice dropped into something almost gleeful. "I have a much better idea."
Masaru's eyes narrowed, watching warily as the gunner extended his palm.
With a mechanical whir, panels on his hand slid apart, revealing a hidden weapon embedded inside — a small, deadly muzzle.
"Biological modification," the gunner said proudly. "Boosts my combat ability by a hundred percent. With this muzzle..."
A faint red light began to pulse from within the barrel, heat waves distorting the air around them.
The temperature in the alley surged to over seventy degrees Celsius in seconds.
"I can fire a shot with half the power of the Souenbaku Aether technique.
That's more than enough to turn you into a smear on the pavement."
Masaru gritted his teeth, struggling against the searing pain locking his limbs in place.
Move, damn it! he screamed internally. Move!
The gunner's smile widened, madness glinting in his eyes as he prepared to fire.
But at that moment —
A crimson bullet tore through the air, striking the muzzle dead center.
The resulting explosion was catastrophic.
The gunner's upper body was blown apart in a spray of blood, bone, and mechanical scraps. What remained collapsed limply to the ground, smoke rising from the ruined torso.
Masaru rose shakily to his feet, glaring at what was left of his would-be killer.
"You talk about hunting non-humans," he spat, "but you're barely human yourself. Just another monster in disguise."
He turned, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at the boy still huddled against the wall, trembling.
"Hey, kid," Masaru called out, his voice losing some of its harshness. "What are you doing all alone out here at this hour?"
As he spoke, the silver bullets began to fall from his body one by one, clinking against the ground.
His flesh mended swiftly, restoring his battered body before the wide.