The man ran.

And kept running.

His ragged footsteps echoed down the narrow, damp alley, each step splashing against uneven cobblestones slick with grime.

Lanterns hung sporadically from crooked iron hooks above, their dim light swaying gently with the wind, throwing long, twitching shadows behind him.

Then, as he turned a sharp corner, his body jolted to a sudden halt.

“Another one?”

His breath hitched. 

Muscles stiffened, pupils narrowed.

A few meters ahead, a figure stood still, cloaked in black so deep it seemed to swallow the light. 

A wide, eerie clown mask covered his face, its painted grin frozen. 

The hood cast a shadow over most of his head, leaving only a pair of flat, soulless eyes visible through the holes.

But… something was different.

“H-his aura… weaker? N-not the same one from before?”

The words slipped out in a hoarse whisper as realization dawned. 

He darted a glance over his shoulder, grinding his teeth.

“I can’t waste time here. Once that freak shows up… I’m done for. Totally done.”

This one wasn’t as strong. 

Still, he couldn’t afford to get tangled up. 

The last thing he wanted was to chew on meat that would draw death to his door.

But…

“A leg should be fine.”

"Let's make this quick"

With a twitch, he lunged forward.

His limbs snapped into a grotesque motion, back arched, head swiveling around a full 180 degrees as he dropped onto all fours. 

He tore across the ground like an animal, jaws opening wide to reveal rows of grotesque, jagged teeth.

Rotting meat still clung between them. Shards of bone wedged near the molars.

A sliver of human skin, still shaped like part of a woman’s face, hung from one fang like a sick trophy.

“Tch…”

The masked man exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between a scoff and a sigh. 

His tone was dry, but edged with obvious disgust.

“No matter how many times I see freaks like you, you always find new ways to be more revolting.”

With a quick flick of his wrists, twin daggers slipped from beneath his cloak, crossing in front of him with a soft metallic rasp. 

Then, without another word, he launched forward.

The monster’s eyes flickered, surprised, maybe impressed, but he didn’t falter. 

His movements blurred as he vaulted sideways, limbs stretching unnaturally. 

His palms and feet clung to the brick wall like a lizard, crawling rapidly across it in a jagged, unnatural path.

It was the kind of motion that would make any normal person’s skin crawl.

The masked figure reacted without thought.

A flick of the wrist sent a fan of darts whistling through the air.

Pew!

Pew!

Pew!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Each dart burst with a sharp crack as they struck the wall. 

One managed to pierce the monster’s upper arm, but he didn’t even flinch. 

Blood dripped down, ignored, as he dropped from above in a blur of motion, claws stretched wide.

The masked man didn’t back off. With a grunt, he met the attack head-on, daggers flashing upward in a clean arc.

BOOM!

A sharp burst of air erupted from the clash, the pressure rippling outward, lifting dust and trash as their clothes snapped from the impact.

The masked man’s boots dug into the ground. 

His knees buckled, back arched as the force pressed down on him. 

He gritted his teeth, spat through the strain, and twisted with all his weight.

“Haaa!”

The monster was thrown sideways, crashing into the alley wall with a heavy thump. But instead of groaning or wincing…

He laughed.

He peeled himself from the wall slowly, mocking glee bubbling in his voice.

“Weak! Weak! And I thought you might give me a bit of fun! Weak!”

The masked figure didn’t respond. He stood silent, adjusting his stance while inside, his thoughts turned sharp.

‘What the hell? Why does this one feel like a Tier 2 variant? Stronger than the one before, did he eat more people?’

He lifted one blade in front of his face, the other lowered and angled back. 

Then, with a sharp push of his foot, he sprang forward.

Dang!

Boom!

Clang!

Steel slammed against claws, again and again. Each clash sent sparks flying, every impact ringing through the alley like a blacksmith’s forge.

The masked man’s fingers numbed with every hit. 

His grip faltered more than once. But he gritted his teeth and forced his arms to keep swinging.

All the while, the monster laughed louder, more manic.

“Weak! Weak! You’re all so weak! And you think you can kill me?”

His claws twitched, then twisted. 

The flesh split down his forearms, tendrils erupting with a sickening noise.

“Die!”

Two fleshy whips snapped forward.

Caught off guard, the masked man raised his blades too late. 

One dagger flew from his grip, clattering somewhere down the alley. 

The other was knocked sideways as a tendril lashed across his chest, tearing through his cloak and flesh in one clean strike.

He was flung backward like a ragdoll, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Bah!

Blood spilled from beneath the mask as he coughed violently, curling slightly on the ground. 

His chest caved unnaturally where the blow had landed, the gash burning across his torso.

“Damn it…”

He forced himself up onto one knee, breathing hard. 

His dagger had been flung too far, and his chest throbbed with every breath. He was exposed, dangerous now. 

This time, it was bad.

Really bad.

Cough.

Spit.

The masked figure staggered, his knees buckling as he pushed himself upright. 

His fingers fumbled into a narrow pocket sewn into the sleeve of his cloak, drawing out a thin vial filled with a glowing liquid. 

He popped the cork with his thumb and downed the elixir in one practiced gulp.

The monster didn’t wait.

No warning. No hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered aggression.

A blur of motion, and the thing charged, tearing across the alley like a battering ram.

No time to react.

But the masked man didn’t flinch. 

His arm extended, fingers slack, letting the empty vial slip from his grasp. 

It shattered against the ground right as.

Boom!

The impact hit like a freight train.

His body rocked back violently, a fresh jolt of agony tearing through the open wound on his chest. 

Blood burst out in a thick spatter, painting the ground in red, soaking through the cloth already slick from earlier damage.

Then came the monster’s jaw.

It didn’t bite to kill. 

No, it chewed, half of the man’s right hand vanishing into that grotesque mouth lined with crooked, gore-stained teeth. 

Slime and spittle clung to his skin as the creature grinned wide.

“Giving up?” it hissed.

Bang!

The masked man drove a fist into the monster’s face, knuckles slamming into flesh just below the eye. 

But the blow barely made it blink.

He had no weapon now, his strength meant little against raw, inhuman durability.

Still… he smiled.

Even with blood pooling in his mouth. Even with his fingers halfway inside a predator’s maw, being slowly ground to pulp. 

He grinned behind the mask, clutching the side of the monster’s face with his free hand.

“Did you think,” he rasped, voice low and broken, “that I drank a potion?”

The creature’s eyes twitched, something in the tone, or the words, sent a pulse of unease through it.

It hesitated.

But it was already too late.

“I never thought I’d see fear in a monster’s eyes,” the masked man continued, laughing softly beneath his breath. “That’s new.”

Then, schk!

In a swift, brutal motion, he drew a hidden blade with his trembling left hand and sliced clean through his own wrist. 

Blood gushed out as the severed limb dropped, and in the same motion, he threw himself backwards, boots scraping the stone as he skidded away.

The monster reeled. Its pupils shrank, limbs twitching as a strange weakness spread through its body. 

A choked sound escaped its throat, but no words followed. Its mouth hung open, stunned.

And then the blood began to hiss.

All around, crimson drops from the severed arm steamed against the stone, tiny tendrils of smoke coiling from the cracks as if the ground itself was breathing poison.

The masked figure collapsed again, landing hard on one shoulder, gasping. 

His whole body trembled. It was clear, he had nothing left to give.

Still, he raised his right hand and pointed forward. A glowing diagram, no larger than a coin, flickered to life at the tip of his finger.

“By the way…” he muttered, voice dry and ragged, “did you know there’s a spell that uses poison as a catalyst for an explosion?”

His smile, twisted now with pain and glee, stretched beneath the mask.

“Originally made it to deal with those damned cultists. But turns out,” he coughed hard, “you’re way more deserving.”

The diagram on his fingertip pulsed brighter, weaving tiny arcs of light through the air.

“So please,” he exhaled, almost tenderly, “do me a favor and die cutely for me.”

“Bastard… human… tricks!” the monster growled, staggering. Its limbs fumbled forward with growing sluggishness, trying to reach him.

Click.

The masked man snapped his fingers.

And the alley lit up.

BOOM!

The explosion ripped the narrow passage apart. 

The floor split with a deafening crack, tiles launching upward. 

The walls crumbled outward, revealing hidden alleyways behind them as a shockwave slammed through the air.

Smoke surged. Shrapnel and dust spun in frenzied spirals. 

Blood sprayed across the stone in violent arcs. Bits of flesh and shattered bone struck the walls and scattered into the fog.

In the center of it all, the masked figure flew back like a ragdoll and hit the ground flat on his back.

Silence crept in, just the hiss of settling rubble, the last trickle of smoke curling into the sky.

His breath rasped through clenched teeth.

Slow.

Uneven.

"What the hell..." he murmured, vision swimming. 

His chest barely rose with each breath, and his eyes struggled to stay open.

"That explosion was a bit stronger than I expected, huh"

...

“I’m about to die, aren’t I?”

A bitter chuckle rumbled in his throat. He reached up with his intact hand, fingers slipping beneath the edge of the mask. 

With effort, he pulled it off and tossed it to the side.

There, under the mess of blood and grime, was Kelen.

The same old bastard, perverted... 

Redeeming. 

Pale now. Lifeless around the eyes. His chest was mangled, the wound carved deep and ugly. 

His left arm, gone, blown off to take the monster with it.

He lay still.

Quiet.

Trying not to choke on the metallic taste in his throat.

“Trying to be a hero sucks…” he whispered with a weak smile. “But I killed that damned monster. Haih, I feel a lot better seeing it die... "

A shallow breath escaped his lips, and he stared up at the night sky swimming in dust and smoke.

“…that’s more than enough, I guess "