No Room for Mercy

The door slammed open.

Cold air rushed in as five figures stormed the outpost, their boots thudding against the wooden floor. The dim light from outside cast their faces in deep shadows, but Liam could feel their intent—predators circling a wounded beast.

Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar running down his jaw, took a slow step forward. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his blade, but there was nothing casual about the sharp glint in his eyes.

Liam's bounty wasn't just a job to him.

It was an opportunity.

"Liam Voss," he said, voice gruff. "You're coming with us. Nice and quiet."

Iris shifted beside Liam, her dagger hidden behind the folds of her coat. Ileana had yet to move, but her hand was already hovering near her bow.

Liam exhaled. No good options.

His body was still aching, recovering. His ink reserves were low, and he wasn't sure he could outlast a prolonged fight. But these men had already made their choice. Talking wouldn't work.

Liam needed a plan.

Before he could move, Scarface's patience ran out.

"Fine," the man muttered. "We'll do this the hard way."

He raised a hand—

Iris struck first.

Fangs Bared

Iris lunged, her dagger flashing in the lantern light. Scarface barely managed to twist away, but the blade sliced across his forearm, drawing a hiss from his lips.

Then the room exploded into motion.

The bounty hunters reacted instantly, weapons unsheathing with a chorus of steel-on-leather. The two closest to Liam rushed forward, one drawing a curved scimitar, the other wielding a short, thick club.

Liam's instincts kicked in.

The ink at his fingertips flared weakly, responding to his will. He twisted his fingers—a simple warding glyph—just enough to distort the air between him and the nearest attacker.

The scimitar swung down—

And hit nothing.

The distorted air bent the blade's trajectory, making the strike glance off to the side. It wasn't strong magic—he was still recovering—but it was enough to buy him space.

He rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding the club as it slammed into the wooden cot where he'd been lying seconds ago.

Iris wasn't holding back.

She slashed low, forcing one of the hunters to stumble. In the same motion, she drove her elbow into another's throat, making him gag. But she was still outnumbered.

Ileana didn't hesitate.

She didn't need a bow to be dangerous.

One of the bounty hunters made the mistake of closing in—she met him with a sharp kick to the ribs, her boot finding the soft spot between his armor. As he doubled over, her knife flashed—a clean slice across the tendons of his wrist.

A scream. His sword clattered to the floor.

Four left.

Liam needed more time. He backed toward the far end of the room, fingers twitching through runic patterns as he fought against his own drained reserves.

Just one spell. One real spell, and—

Pain lanced through his skull.

His status window flickered.

[Error: Insufficient Energy for Spell Execution]

His breath hitched.

Still too weak.

Scarface noticed. His lips curled into a grin. "You're not at full strength, are you?"

Liam grit his teeth. Damn it.

Scarface adjusted his grip on his sword, eyes gleaming. "That means this'll be easier than I thought."

He moved. Fast.

Liam barely managed to duck as the blade whistled past his ear. He twisted, trying to counter with an ink-forged blade—but the ink flickered out before fully forming.

His body was too slow.

His magic was too weak.

Scarface saw the hesitation—and capitalized on it.

His knee slammed into Liam's ribs, sending him sprawling against the table. His vision blurred for a second, pain blooming across his side.

Liam coughed, spitting blood.

Scarface raised his sword for a finishing strike—

And Ileana's dagger embedded itself into his shoulder.

Outnumbered, Outgunned

Scarface roared in pain, staggering back as blood darkened his coat. Ileana didn't wait—she was already moving again, kicking another bounty hunter's legs out from under him.

But the momentary shift in the fight didn't last.

Iris was starting to slow. Ileana was still recovering from the last battle. And Liam—Liam could barely stand.

They were outnumbered. Outgunned.

And the bounty hunters knew it.

Scarface gritted his teeth, ripping the dagger free from his shoulder. His eyes blazed with fury.

"Enough," he snarled.

His remaining men closed in, forming a tight circle.

Liam's pulse pounded in his ears. They wouldn't win this fight. Not like this.

Then—a sound.

A low, distant whistle.

Scarface's expression flickered in confusion—right before the entire wall behind him shattered.

A blast of concussive force tore through the outpost, splinters of wood raining down as the structure trembled under the impact. Scarface and his men were thrown forward, caught completely off guard.

Liam barely had time to process what was happening before a new figure stepped through the dust and debris.

A bounty hunter.

But not just any bounty hunter.

This one was different. Sharp, deliberate movements. A cloak embroidered with sigils of unknown origin. A long-barreled rifle slung across their back.

And the moment they stepped forward, the air itself seemed to change.

Scarface pushed himself up, blood smeared across his face. He turned toward the newcomer, scowling. "What the hell—"

The bounty hunter shot him in the leg.

No hesitation.

The gunshot echoed through the room, deafeningly loud. Scarface collapsed, a raw cry of pain ripping from his throat.

The remaining bounty hunters froze. Uncertainty flickered in their eyes.

Liam stared at the newcomer, his breath shallow. Who…?

The bounty hunter tilted their head, their voice calm. Measured.

"This bounty belongs to me."

Their hand rested lightly on their rifle's stock.

"If any of you disagree," they continued, voice smooth as steel—

"Try me."

To Be Continued…