Chapter 13: No Rest for the Wicked

The War Wasn't Over. It had only just begun.

The reek inside the warehouse was oppressive blood, gunpowder, and the metallic taste of death caked the walls. Renji stood in the carnage, his katana dripping, his breathing slow and deliberate. His body hurt, muscles knotted with exhaustion, but adrenaline surged through his veins.

He couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.

Ayame wiped her hand across her face. "F*ck me," she said, reloading her pistols with gliding proficiency.

"That was a f*cking massacre."

Sora on one of the columns is completely falling apart.

Blood dripped from his nose, ruining his shirt, but there was a perverse joy in his weary grin.

"And we're still alive. That's what counts, right?"

Renji didn't answer. He was listening.

Footsteps.

More of them.

Boots thumping down on gravel, the muffled jingle of weapons loading.

"What the fuck," Ayame murmured, following his eyes to the ruined warehouse doors.

"We're not done yet."

Renji readied his katana.

The blade was wet and steaming with fresh blood.

He squeezed the hilt tighter.

The fight was far from over.

The next wave had arrived.

A New Breed of Killers

This time, not standard Syndicate mercs.

The first man to enter through the door was built like a monster tall, broad, wearing reinforced armor padded with steel plates.

His face hidden behind a black mask, he brandished a massive war hammer smeared dark with the blood of past killings.

A woman in a red bodysuit ghosted behind him, twin karambit knives shining in her hands. The penetrating look of her eyes and pouncing posture.

More followed six in total. Trained assassins hired guns.

Not bounty hunters.

Not mercenaries.

Elite assassins.

Ayame exhaled sharply.

"Oh, these m*therf*ckers look serious."

Don't lick the blood off your lips, Sora told himself, and got to his feet.

"I hate that you have no argument against you."

Renji said nothing. He stepped forward, lowering his sword.

The masked brute hunched his shoulders.

"So, you must be the Phantom Reaper," he said, his voice like crushed gravel.

"A legend. A ghost."

He gripped the war hammer tighter in his hands.

"I want to see if you bleed like everyone else."

Then he charged.

There was only a split-second for Renji to react before the hammer fell, a blur of steel and momentum.

He bobbed aside, the blow shattering the concrete floor where he'd stood a moment ago.

The shockwave sent dust and debris flying.

Renji counterattacked, the katana flicking toward the brute's ribs only to have the edge scrape hopelessly against the hardened armor.

"Oh, that's cute," the assassin rumbled and backhanded Renji across the jaw.

Pain exploded in Renji's skull, but he pushed forward.

He twisted his knife in his hands and dragged it up, toward the gullet.

The assassin grabbed the katana with a gloved hand.

Then he snapped the blade in two with brute force.

Renji's eyes widened. His sword was gone.

And the war had only begun.

Ayame's Deadly Waltz

Ayame had already charged into the thick of it, her pistols erupting shots with rapid-fire accuracy.

The lady in crimson was fast too fast. Around the bullets, she pulled a slick move, like she was water, the karambit knives floating through the air with the intention of Ayame's throat.

Ayame barely managed to duck to the right in time, the sharpened edge clipping inches over her head. She turned, shot point-blank.

The assassin deflected the bullet with her blade, its movement blurring as she redirected it.

Ayame cursed and spun finally as the woman lunged. The bodies crashed against one another, tumbling across the floor smeared with blood.

Ayame wedged a knee between them and kicked hard, driving the assassin skidding backward.

The woman smirked. "You're fast."

Ayame smiled, sliding a new clip into her gun.

"You have no idea."

They fought each other again.

Sora's Limit

Sora was out of energy.

His head ached, and his vision flickered at the margins.

The previous psychic blast had nearly blown him apart from the inside.

He had nothing left.

And yet.

A third attacker, a spare man bearing serrated daggers, charged him.

Sora clenched his fists.

His body screamed in protest, but he persevered, tapping into the final remnants of strength left in his being.

The moment the assassin leaps.

Sora raked taut, brains snapping like a whip.

The air trembled.

The assassin stopped midair.

Frozen. Suspended.

His eyes widened in shock.

"What the f—"

Sora crushed him.

A damp, visceral explosion of the man's body collapsed. Pulses of flesh and muscle flew against the walls.

Sora fell, unable to stand.

He coughed, blood filling his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Christ…" he rasped, wiping his mouth.

He looked up.

They all counted them over and over.

And he was out of power.

Renji's Rage Unleashed

The brute loomed over Renji, driving his hammer.

"No sword, no chance."

Blood trickled from Renji's mouth as he smiled.

"I don't need a sword."

He moved.

Quicker than reason, quicker than instinct.

His fingers snapped out, catching the brute's wrist before the hammer could descend.

He spun hard dislocating the joint with a gross snap.

The assassin howled.

Renji didn't stop.

He crashed his hand into the beast's chest.

Not only a blow but a death blow.

His fingers struck the gaps between the concertina and rifle plates.

A precise, lethal touch.

The assassin's body seized. His lungs collapsed.

His heart stopped.

He never actually made it to the ground.

Renji remembered to breathe, walking over the body.

His hands were stained red.

She instead fought Ayame, the woman in red.

Sora could barely hold himself together.

And more enemies were coming.

Renji rolled his shoulders. He was just getting started.

No mercy. No survivors.

Ayame fired her last bullet, clipping her opponent's cheek.

The woman in red tasted the blood on her lips and smiled.

"Cute," she whispered.

Ayame grinned. "Bitch, I'm adorable."

Then she drove her own knife into the assassin's gut.

The woman's breath hitched. Her eyes widened. Blood dribbled down her lips.

Her killer twisted the blade without mercy, then shot a round into her skull for good measure.

The assassin fell, dead.

Renji looked over at Ayame as she gasped.

"Are all of them? "

Renji didn't answer.

He was staring at the entrance to the warehouse.

More figures stepped through the doorway.

Syndicate enforcers.

More killers.

More monsters.

This wasn't over.

Renji clenched his fists. His muscles burned.

His body ached.

But his heart?

It was steady. Cold. Unrelenting.

He moved forward, with deadly resolve in his eyes.

"Let's finish this."