After Fire
Walker was facing Raev.
Blood dripped from the side of his mouth. His forearms were bruised—battered by Raev's relentless, heavy punches.
Raev fought like a savage beast. His strikes carried bear-like power—brutal, unrefined, yet dangerously effective. But the worst part wasn't his strength—it was his mindset.
The more Raev fought, the more his grin grew.
And with that smile came more power.
More speed.
More aggression.
Walker was forced onto the defensive, constantly pushed back, blocking Raev's brutal attacks while trying to create space. He kept switching muscle enhancements between his arms and legs to keep up.
His strategy was simple—let Raev tire himself out.
Let the madness override reason.
Let the rage drain his stamina.
Then strike.
But the plan wasn't working.
Raev wasn't slowing down.
If anything, he was getting faster.
Walker, on the other hand, was starting to feel the toll—his muscles strained, his mind sharp but his body tired.
Raev's fist flew at his head.
Walker raised his arms, enhancing his forearm strength just in time.
The blow smashed into his guard, knocking his defense slightly off.
Raev didn't hesitate.
Another punch came—straight for Walker's skull.
If it landed, he'd die.
Walker couldn't raise his other arm in time.
So he made a split-second decision.
He jumped back—both legs enhanced—abandoning his guard.
Swoosh...
Raev's punch missed by inches.
But he wasn't about to let Walker escape.
He surged forward, pressing the attack.
Walker's footing was unstable. Throwing a punch or raising a guard would only make things worse. So he pushed himself backward again, widening the gap.
Raev didn't let up—cutting the distance in seconds.
He threw another punch—heavy, fast, devastating.
But this time, Walker charged forward.
He enhanced one leg and launched himself ahead.
At the last moment, he tilted his head—neck muscles enhanced—dodging by a hair's breadth.
Then, mid-motion, he switched the enhancement to his arm—
BAM!
He struck.
A brutal punch—so strong it shoved Raev back a few steps.
Raev blocked, but barely.
His forearm was now black and blue, clearly damaged.
Walker stood still, breathing hard. That punch had taken everything out of him.
Raev, though bruised, still looked like he could fight.
And Walker knew—
His chances of winning were getting worse by the second.
---
Crack!
Rollo shattered the thin ice sheet and dashed forward—his wounded leg trailing blood behind.
In a blink, he was in front of Sira.
He launched a devastating punch—one that would kill her if it landed.
Instinctively, she raised her arms to protect her head.
BAM!
The punch slammed into her guard. Her arms smashed into her forehead. Her vision spun.
Dazed, she staggered.
Rollo landed, crouched—already shifting for another short-range dash.
This time, the punch would be fatal.
Myth saw it. He was the closest.
If he didn't act now, Sira would die.
Crack...
Victor reacted instantly—forming a thin ice sheet under Rollo's feet.
Rollo didn't hesitate.
In a split-second decision, he sacrificed speed—switching to a low vertical jump while winding up another punch.
His arm dragged from the right side, already halfway into the swing.
Myth didn't think.
He ran.
From behind Sira, he pushed her aside—and threw himself into the punch's path.
BAM!
The fist struck Myth just below the ribs.
Hard.
Blood sprayed from his mouth. His body reeled. Consciousness flickered.
But he held on.
He had to hold Rollo—no matter what.
If he didn't, they'd all die.
Vision blackened, body failing, Myth scrambled forward—grabbing whatever part of Rollo he could. Arms, clothes, anything.
Even if it meant taking more punches. He just need that one second.
Just one second.
That's all Ashley needed.
BANG!
She didn't miss.
The shot went clean—straight through Rollo's head.
Rollo collapsed.
And Myth fainted, the world going dark.
His last thought was bitter and sharp.
'We just failed...'
"Myth! Are you o—"
---
"Well, nice meeting you, Raven. We'll meet again..."
Raev smiled and let out a short laugh.
Walker said nothing.
He already knew—he wasn't going to win this fight.
But he also knew something else:
If Raev stayed...
He wouldn't be in any shape to escape.
The team would kill him easily.
But even knowing that... Walker couldn't follow.
He wouldn't be able to catch up. And once they were out of the team's reach, Raev would overwhelm him easily.
He'd be alone.
Only he would die.
So he could only watch Raev run away—his identity exposed.
Police and military on his trail.
The most wanted person.
Everyone would want to catch him.
Even someone as cold as Walker was seething with anger.
They had failed... miserably.
They wanted money.
They wanted information.
Now they only had a crippled team.
Just one unknown factor had destroyed their plan.
Raev.
---
Myth slowly opened his eyes.
It was dark.
He was on a bed, inside a room.
His body ached all over—most of the pain concentrated on his left side.
Then it all came back.
Everything.
His decision had led them here.
And now, things were much, much worse than before.
He was afraid to face the others.
Especially Walker.
Walker would bear the brunt of it—and Myth had no excuse.
A part of him was angry at Sira.
If she had just waited a little longer, the two of them could've taken Rollo down together.
But mostly... he was angry at himself.
Because despite everything he had said, despite claiming he wanted nothing to do with her—
He still threw himself into danger to save her.
Without thinking.
Like a fool.
Now he felt miserable.
Like a complete idiot.
He stared at the dark ceiling.
Right now, he didn't want anything—not answers, not apologies.
Just to wash away the feeling of being that pathetic.
He was arrogant by nature.
So why?
Why had he chosen to hurt himself... for someone?
For anyone?
He stayed silent, trying to calm the storm in his mind.
---
Myth got up from the bed.
He was on the upper floor of their house.
In front of him was Sira and Ashley's room. Another door stood to his right.
He knocked—no response.
So he headed downstairs.
Reaching the bottom, he saw Ashley in the kitchen.
Turning his head, he noticed Sira sitting on the sofa.
Walking toward her, he spoke casually,
"Hey Sira, how are you?"
Sira immediately turned, scanning Myth from head to toe.
Then she stood up quickly and hurried toward him.
"How are you! Myth..." she said, her voice full of relief.
"I'm fine..." Myth said, pausing as she reached him.
"What—"
Sira hugged him tightly.
Myth gently pulled away.
Sira hesitated, then let go, looking down.
"I'm good..." she said softly.
"Thank you, Myth."
Myth replied with a calm, polite tone,
"Ohh... don't mention it."
Hearing the commotion, Ashley walked over from the kitchen.
"Hey..." she said.
Myth looked at her. A faint smile formed on his lips.
"Saw you cooking over there. Planning to kill me?" he asked with a smirk.
"No. That would be a mercy for you," Ashley replied with a radiant smile of her own.
"Ahh..." Myth chuckled, then shifted the topic.
"So, anyway, what happened later? And more importantly... how much time has passed?"
"It's been around 14 hours," Ashley said, pausing.
"Now that Walker's identity is revealed, he's staying somewhere on Street 4... not sure where exactly. Victor went to the better districts."
She looked at Myth, gauging his reaction.
"Though... we did obtain around 3,700,000 sol. That was Rollo's entire treasury."
Myth didn't react. His expression stayed blank.
"Anyway, half is with us. The other half's with Victor."
The money was chump change.
Enough for a nice house in Lowden, sure.
But if they'd captured Rollo, they could've exploited the entire business—
a system generating that kind of liquid profit consistently.
And the information they lost out on... was immeasurable.
"Where are the muskets?" Myth asked.
"They're with us," Ashley replied.
"What about the information?"
Ashley sighed.
"Myth... let's eat first. We can talk afterwards."
"Fine..." Myth said, then looked at Ashley with a grin.
"You know... I really need a shoulder right now."
Ashley smiled and stepped toward him.
"Oh, don't worry. I got you covered," she said, slipping his arm over her shoulder.
As they were walking, Ashley glanced at Myth.
"Now you at least got a room for yourself. Happy?"
"No, not really."
Myth looked at her.
"Though… are you sad that I got my own room?"
"I am..." Ashley replied softly, a trace of sorrow hiding in her eyes.
---
The three of them sat at the dining table.
And, as expected… the meal Ashley made was really bad.
But Myth didn't complain.
"So eat everything, guys," Ashley said, staring at their faces like a warden watching over inmates.
They talked. They laughed.
But it felt off.
The table was quieter than usual.
Lonelier without Walker and Victor.
There were long awkward silences—interrupted by bursts of animated chatter that tried to fill the void.
But no one said what they were really thinking.
Everyone at that table felt it.
The weight of what came next.
The mess they were in.
The danger they now lived with.
Were they ready?