The Vultures' Nest

The Vultures were known for their ruthless efficiency, their strict rules, and the unwavering hierarchy that bound them together. The gang wasn't just a group of thugs; it was an institution. The leader, simply known as Boss, commanded fear and respect in equal measure. His name? Nobody knew. His past? A shadow, barely a whisper among those few who had been close enough to ask—and none of them had lived long enough to tell the tale.

There was a story, one whispered among the more fearful citizens. It was said that Boss once became so enraged when a debtor failed to repay on time that he kidnapped the debtor's daughter. The next day, he returned her, but she was no longer the same. The child had been mutilated—her limbs removed, her body broken—and the man, upon seeing his daughter, had collapsed, vomiting in horror. The very next day, he ended his own life. It was a lesson in the price of failing the Vultures.

The gang operated in three groups: the Right Hand—a shadowy and lethal crew, their presence felt only through their devastating strikes, the Left Hand—the boss's most merciless and dangerous enforcers, and finally, the Boss's own group—those who were closest to him, feared by all, and untouchable. The headquarters, situated in an abandoned district on the outskirts of the new city, was a fortress of secrecy and power.

Kenos and Atrom's gang knew the odds. It wasn't about strength alone; it was about timing. The night was their only chance—when most of the Vultures were out drinking, gambling, or chasing after women. That's when they'd strike.

As they walked toward the old city, Kenos glanced at the person beside him—the one who had told him everything about the Vultures and had appeared out of nowhere in the bar. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about him. "What was your name again?" Kenos asked, his voice low and suspicious.

The stranger turned to him, a smile flashing across his face. "Ah, my apologies! I'm Thain." He pointed at himself as if introducing the most obvious thing in the world.

Kenos narrowed his eyes. "Thain, huh? How do you know all this stuff? About the Vultures? Their operations?"

Thain chuckled, unfazed. "I love learning," he said with a grin.

Kenos wasn't sure if that answer comforted him or made him more uneasy. Thain was just… too calm, too knowledgeable for someone who seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was something about the way he moved, like he could vanish into the shadows at any moment—something that felt... unnatural. Still, Kenos had bigger things to focus on.

He turned back to the rest of Atrom's gang. His voice rang out with renewed resolve. "Listen, everyone. I've heard a lot about Atrom, and it sounds like he's a guy worth following. Let's fight together, not just as a gang, but as friends!"

For a moment, the group stood in silence. Then, as if on cue, a loud cheer erupted, shaking the air around them.

"Yeahhh!" The roar of approval reverberated, and for the first time that day, Kenos felt something he hadn't in a long time: unity.

They arrived at the headquarters—a grim, decaying place. The guards stationed at the entrance looked up, sneering at the newcomers.

"Aren't you guys Atrom's gang? You come to pay back the debt you owe?"

Kenos and his crew exchanged confused looks. "What do you mean? Isn't Atrom here?" Kenos asked, stepping forward.

The guard, his brow furrowed, looked at them like they were the ones who'd lost their minds. "Atrom? He's not even here. Why do you think we'd let you in without him?"

A tense silence hung in the air, thick with uncertainty. Kenos was about to press the issue when the deep voice of a man interrupted him.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't Atrom's little gang."

Kenos turned, meeting the gaze of a man who was easily a foot taller than him. He wore a cocky smile that barely masked the cruelty in his eyes. His left eye was scarred, a brutal reminder of the violence he dealt, and the air around him reeked of danger.

Xaicor.

This was the Left Hand of the Vultures, a man so feared that even the bravest in the city spoke his name with hesitation.

Kenos didn't flinch. "Who are you?" he demanded, stepping forward. Thain, who had been quiet until now, leaned in.

"Xaicor. Left Hand of the Vultures," he murmured, his voice grim. "You're gonna need more than guts to take him on."

Kenos clenched his fists, feeling the weight of Thain's words but not backing down. "Where's Atrom?"

Xaicor's laugh was low, guttural. "Atrom? That worm? His father was a traitor. If you really want to find your 'friend,' you'll have to go through me first."

In a blur of motion, Xaicor lunged forward, a fist aimed for Kenos's face. Kenos barely had time to react. The punch landed, and his world spun. He stumbled back, tasting blood in his mouth.

But he didn't fall. He gritted his teeth, staring up at the towering figure of Xaicor with defiance burning in his eyes. His mind felt strangely sharp—clearer than usual, almost too focused. It was as if a part of him was awakening, drawing on something deep inside… something he couldn't quite control.

"Is that all you've got?" Kenos spat, his voice hoarse.

Xaicor's grin widened. "You're a brave one, I'll give you that. But brave doesn't win fights."

The two clashed again, and this time, Kenos felt the full weight of Xaicor's strength. He was fast, precise, and brutal. Every blow landed like a sledgehammer. But Kenos didn't relent. The pain in his ribs, his jaw, the bruises forming on his skin—it didn't matter. His body screamed for rest, for surrender, but his mind would not yield. A sensation—dark, almost suffocating—began to rise inside him. It was the same feeling he had when he'd been pushed to the brink before. The Voidheart's influence was stirring, whispering to him, urging him to let go. To let it take control.

He had a mission. He had friends to protect. And above all, he had a promise to keep.

The fight went on, each blow exchanging, each man pushing the other to their limits. Kenos could feel himself faltering, but then, something inside him snapped. His resolve hardened.

"I'm not losing here," he muttered under his breath, his vision blurring with sweat and blood. And with a final, desperate burst of energy, Kenos delivered a blow that sent Xaicor staggering back.

Xaicor's sneer faltered for the first time, and in that moment of hesitation, Kenos saw his opening. The darkness within him seemed to surge, just beneath the surface, but he kept it contained, channeling the power into his final strike.

With a brutal series of punches, Kenos brought the Left Hand to his knees, gasping for air, exhausted but triumphant.

Kenos barely had the strength to stand, his body bruised and battered. But as he stood over Xaicor, the fight was far from over. Atrom was still out there—and Kenos wasn't about to stop now.

"Where is Atrom?" he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper, his chest heaving.

Xaicor groaned, barely able to lift his head. "You'll find him... at the docks. But if you're smart... you'll stay away."

Kenos didn't waste any more time. He turned, signaling for his gang to follow.

The fight had been won. But the war? That was just beginning.