Fulminates Everyone

Tyron, the 13-year-old boy with a heart pounding louder than the chaos around him, couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him. The stranger—his unexpected hero—stood casually in the middle of the mall, a kitchen knife dangling loosely in his hand. He looked almost bored, as if the heavily armed soldiers surrounding him were nothing more than an inconvenience.

The soldiers, however, weren't nearly as calm. Their weapons trembled in their hands, their eyes darting nervously between each other and the man who had just appeared out of nowhere. One of them, a burly figure with a scar running down his cheek, finally broke the tension.

"So," the stranger said, his voice smooth but laced with an edge that made Tyron's skin crawl, "the director thinks he can claim this province now? Bold move."

The soldiers didn't answer. Instead, the scarred man raised his rifle, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Shut up and die!" he barked, firing a shot straight at the stranger.

Tyron flinched, expecting the worst. But the stranger moved faster than the eye could follow. One second he was standing there, the next he was behind the shooter, the kitchen knife buried in the man's throat. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering uselessly beside him.

The remaining soldiers froze, their confidence shattered. The stranger wiped the blade on his sleeve and turned to face them, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Anyone else want to try?"

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. The soldiers opened fire, bullets ricocheting off walls and shattering glass displays. But the stranger moved like a shadow, dodging every shot with inhuman precision. He closed the distance between himself and two of the attackers in an instant, slamming them into a column with a sickening crunch.

One of the soldiers, his helmet cracked and blood streaming down his face, charged at the stranger with a combat knife. The stranger disarmed him with a flick of his wrist, then drove the blade into the man's throat without hesitation. The soldier dropped to his knees, gurgling, before collapsing.

The last attacker, a woman, tried to run. She didn't get far. The stranger caught her by the arm, his grip like iron. "And here I thought women were supposed to be the kinder sex," he said, his tone mocking. "Don't worry, I'll make it quick. Wouldn't want your leader to think I'm playing favorites."

The woman struggled, pulling a hidden knife from her boot and slashing at him. The stranger caught her wrist, twisted it until the knife fell, and then plunged his own blade into her chest. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock, before slumping to the ground.

The mall fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of flickering fluorescent lights. The stranger stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling steadily, as if the fight had been nothing more than a warm-up. He turned to the bodies scattered around him and gave a small, almost respectful bow.

Then he walked over to Tyron, who was still crouched behind a toppled display case, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. The stranger knelt down, placing two bloodied knives in the boy's trembling hands.

"You'll need these," he said, his voice low but firm.

Tyron looked up, meeting the stranger's dark, unreadable eyes. For a moment, he thought the man might say more, but instead, he simply ruffled Tyron's hair with a bloodstained hand and stood up.

"Wait—" Tyron started, but the stranger was already walking away.

"You'll see me again," the man called over his shoulder, his voice echoing through the empty mall. "But next time, be ready."

And just like that, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.

Tyron stared at the knives in his hands, his mind racing. The sound of sirens grew louder, snapping him back to reality. Police officers burst into the mall, their weapons drawn and voices shouting commands.

"Freeze! Hands where we can see them!"

But Tyron barely heard them. All he could think about was the stranger—the man who had saved him, killed without hesitation, and left as mysteriously as he had come. Whoever he was, Tyron knew one thing for certain: his life would never be the same.

And as the police closed in, Tyron clutched the knives tighter, a strange sense of determination settling over him. Whatever was coming next, he would be ready.