Ten moved forward with a heavy machine guns, but before they could even shoot, Tata was behind them. He cut all their Achilles tendons, blood sprayed into the air as Tata's blade flashed low, carving through the tendons in the backs of ten men's ankles.
They dropped screaming, weapons clattering on the pavement, some clutching their ruined legs, others frozen in disbelief at how fast it had happened.
By the time the eleventh realized what was going on, Tata was already moving again, his hood snapping in the air, the fire on Lighter leaving bright orange smears across the darkened street.
"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" someone screamed.
Bullets tore through the air. Muzzle flashes lit the streets. Tata ducked behind a street pole, the metal groaning as slugs slammed into it. Two rounds came close, one grazed his shoulder and tore his hoodie, the other pinged off his mask.
He kicked forward into a roll, popped up behind a half-crumbled mailbox, and threw a piece of debris at the shooter's face.
As the gunman flinched, Tata lunged with Lighter, parrying a second spray of bullets mid-air, the red-hot blade melting lead on contact.
Then he slid beneath the man's swing, came up behind him, and jabbed the butt of the sword into his kidney.
"Ghhkkk—!" The man collapsed.
Another gang member tried to cut him off with a axe, roaring as he swung down, but Tata caught it, wrenched it free, and slammed the flat of it across the thug's jaw with a sickening crunch. Blood and a few teeth hit the wall behind them.
More were closing in from the side alleys. The block was a war zone. Tata moved like unstobable blazing demon through it.
Two ran at him from opposite sides, one with a shotgun, the other with a pipe. Tata spun mid-dash, ducked the pipe, grabbed the shotgun guy's barrel with both hands, twisted it away, then brought his knee up into the man's chin so hard it cracked his jaw sideways. The pipe wielder panicked and backed away.
"You think this scares me?!" the man yelled, shaking, swinging wildly. "You're just a kid! You're just a damn ki—!"
Tata buried the edge of his flaming sword into the wall beside him, missing his neck by an inch, just enough to burn the side of his face.
"I'm not in the mood for lectures."
Then he moved again.
Inside one of the corner stores, a group had holed up, sniping from the windows. Tata burst through the door, sending it flying off its hinges. A spray of bullets missed by a second as he lunged left and tackled one of them through the snack shelf.
They fought hand-to-hand, smashing through counters, knocking over displays.
One got a few hits in as blood smeared the edge of Tata's mask, but the moment he caught his footing, he hit back with raw force. Elbows, knees, open palm strikes. It wasn't flashy, but it was effective. Twelve men down in under ten seconds.
Back on the street, the fighting had reached a its chorus. Thugs were shouting. Some tried to run. Others kept fighting out of fear of Rak.
Tata stood atop a delivery truck now, panting lightly, fire trailing up the edge of his sword. The street below him was coated in broken bodies, some still crawling, others unmoving.
"Th-this is insane. He's a demon. That's not a kid!"
"We need to fall back! We need to—!"
Tata inhaled deeply.
He filled his lungs with as much air as they could hold.
Then he roared.
It wasn't just a scream, it was a roar. A distorted, guttural, unnatural blast of sound that shook windows and dropped every thug within two blocks to their knees. A sound that mimicked the howl of a monster, deep and ear-splitting, layered with the screech of train brakes and a lion's growl at the same time.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
Some men covered their ears. Others dropped their weapons entirely. Most just froze in place, shivering.
Tata dropped down from the truck and muttered under his breath, "King's Roar. Forgot I still had that one…"
He didn't stop.
There were still dozens more down the road, some regrouping behind cars and crates.
He reached into his coat and flicked the switch on Lighter. The Nitro module hissed.
Flames surged from the hilt and coiled around the blade, burning brighter and hotter, almost like it was alive.
"Let's try this new move," he muttered, low and cold. "Flame Serpent Strike."
He sprinted forward and leapt, flipping once mid-air before twisting his body and swinging his sword in a wide arc that spiraled like a snake through the front ranks.
The flaming blade curved and cracked as it struck, slashing multiple enemies in one fluid sweep. Men screamed, some collapsing with scorched arms or torsos, others thrown backward into their comrades like bowling pins.
Explosions of ash and heat filled the air. The concrete beneath his landing point cracked from the force of impact.
Rak, watching from a rooftop above, muttered, "...you've gotta be kidding me."
Still more came. Still Tata fought.
When one brute with a shield tackled him into a car, Tata grit his teeth and triggered a second mechanism, the soles of his shoes hissed with Ether fuel.
Flames burst out from the base of his boots.
He spun on his heel.
"Flaming Dragon Hook!"
His leg erupted into fire for one brief moment as his full body twisted into a spinning hook kick. The heel collided with the man's jaw, launching him into the hood of the vehicle. The impact was so strong, the car alarm blared before it tipped slightly to the side.
Silence finally started to settle over the block.
Tata stood in the middle of it all. Bloodied. Breathing hard. His sword hissed with lighter flames. Bodies littered the streets, groaning, crying, unconscious, defeated. The fires still burned, but the gang? The Red Fangs?
They were done. Well, all except for one.
A slow clap echoed from above.
Rak stepped out from behind the water tower, gun in hand, lips curled into a grin. He hadn't lifted a finger the entire battle. He hadn't even moved.
"...Impressive," he said. "But now that you're tired, it's my turn."
Tata's head turned slowly.
Rak stood atop the crumbling rooftop, holding the gun like it could save him, but his eyes betrayed him,they were wild, twitching, desperate.
His finger was tight on the trigger. His other hand trembled at his side. Tata could see and hear everything.
The frantic beat of Rak's heart thumping in his chest.
The sweat dripping down his temple.
The faint tremor in his legs.
The gun fired.
Bang!
Tata shifted slightly, tilting his body to the left. The bullet missed his shoulder by an inch.
Another shot rang out. This time, he leaned the opposite way. Missed again.
Rak kept firing, one round after another, each shot growing more panicked, and less aimed.
Tata didn't blink. He didn't speed up or flinch. He simply walked forward, step by step, avoiding each bullet like he could see them before they left the chamber. The flames on Lighter flickered, still burning bright.
"Stay back!" Rak yelled. "I swear to God, I'll— I'll fucking kill you!"
Tata kept walking.
"STOP MOVING, DAMN YOU!"
Click. Click. Click.
The gun jammed. It was Empty.
Rak looked down at it, shocked, like he had expected it to reload itself. His fingers scrambled for something else, anything, but he had nothing left. His last resort was to drop the gun and raise his hands.
"H-Hey… hey listen, alright? I was just following orders. This ain't personal. I didn't mean nothing by it, I swear—"
Tata didn't respond.
He grabbed him by the throat with one hand, lifting him clean off the ground. Rak's boots kicked against the rooftop edge, fingers clawing at Tata's wrist.
"I was just... just doing what I had to! Please!"
There was no reply. Only the roar of fire and the distant crying from the street below.
Then Tata pulled his arm back, and punched.
One punch, with all his power behind it.
Rak's face crumpled on impact, nose caved in, jaw twisted sideways. The blow sent him flying across the rooftop and over the edge.
His body slammed into the cracked pavement twenty meters below, skidding across the street like a broken rag doll.
He landed in a groaning heap, face mangled and unrecognizable, one eye already swollen shut, blood pouring from every opening in his head. Somehow, he was still conscious. Barely.
He coughed once. Then again. "Mercy… p-please…"
Tata dropped from the rooftop with a single leap. His boots landed heavy on the ground. The flames on Lighter hissed as he stepped forward.
He didn't say anything at first.
The sword's burning edge hovered above Rak's fugly face. Inches away from his one good eye. The heat made Rak flinch, eye wide, his entire body shivering like a child.
And then, the mask cracked.
A sharp line across the side gave way to red, two glowing, soulless eyes burning through the shattered piece of metal.
Tata finally spoke, his voice low and void of emotion.
"I'm not the one you should be asking mercy from."
He turned and walked away.
Rak stared after him, stunned. For a second, he didn't move. Then he laughed.
'Ha… ha, stupid brat… you should've killed me. Should've… I'm gonna regroup. I'm gonna gather every Red Fang left. I'll go back to the base, get the boss… once he hears about this, once he sees what you did—'
His thoughts stopped.
He froze.
Because when he turned his head, he didn't see Tata anymore.
He saw them. Dozens. No, hundreds.
Men. Women. Elderly. Teens.
All of them standing at the end of the street.
The people of this district.
The same people his gang had robbed, beaten, chased out of homes, mocked, violated.
Every single one of them looking at him like he was less than dirt. Their eyes weren't full of fear anymore. They were filled with something else.
Revenge.
Rak's lips trembled. "W-wait, I didn't—this ain't—"
They started walking forward.
He tried to sit up, but something landed near his leg. A kid. It was Will.
The kid stood there, breathing hard with a baseball bat in his hands.
He didn't say anything. He just stared at the man who had almost taken his parents away.
Rak tried to speak again, but someone behind him kicked him in the ribs.
Then another.
The crowd descended.
First a few. Then all at once.
Screams echoed through the streets. Screams that no one rushed to stop.
No Red Fang would be coming to Rak's rescue.
Not this time. Not ever again.