The robbers huffed and panted heavily as they sprinted through the back streets behind the massive shopping mall, their boots slapping loudly against the pavement.
Sweat soaked through their dark clothes, chests heaving with every desperate breath while they struggled to keep up with the strange, unmasked man leading the way.
He moved with surprising endurance, never once looking back, as if he knew exactly how much distance they needed to put between themselves and the two dangerous women inside the mall.
The group stayed close behind him because he seemed far more knowledgeable about dealing with people like Chiyo — the kind who could make hardened criminals run for their lives with just a few words and a glare.
They soon slowed to a stop in a narrow, well-hidden corner tucked away from the main roads — a secluded alleyway behind the mall where overflowing dumpsters lined one wall and faded graffiti marked the brick surfaces.
Tall buildings on either side blocked most of the sunlight, leaving the space in cool shadow.
The air here smelled of damp concrete, rotting garbage, and distant exhaust from the main street.
Broken crates and discarded cardboard boxes cluttered the ground, making the alley feel even more isolated and forgotten.
The dark-eyed man turned to face the dozen robbers gathered behind him, his own breathing steady despite the long sprint.
The others were far more winded, leaning against the walls or bending over with hands on their knees as they tried to catch their breath.
"Oh man!" one of them gasped out, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his voice rough from exhaustion. "Heroes are so much trouble. We were lucky… too damn lucky to get out of there alive."
The rest of the robbers began exchanging tired words of praise to luck and fortune, muttering things like "Yeah, we barely made it" and "Never robbing a place with weird girls again" while slapping each other on the shoulders in weak relief.
Their masks were pushed up or hanging loosely around their necks now, revealing flushed, sweaty faces still marked with fear.
The dark-eyed man squinted at them calmly, his expression unchanging as he watched the group celebrate their narrow escape.
After a moment, he spoke in a quiet, measured voice that cut through their chatter.
"Are you telling me you all did not realize the auras of the two women were abnormal?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely puzzled by their ignorance.
"What are you talking about?" one robber answered, still breathing hard and wiping his face. "Only awakened folks can tell things like that apart. We only saw two gir—"
"I have no further use of you then," the dark-eyed man sighed softly, turning away from them and starting to walk in a different direction down the narrow alley.
His footsteps echoed lightly against the brick walls. "I suppose you all do not know about the Monster cult too?"
"Huh? What monster cult?" one robber wondered aloud, exchanging confused glances with the others as they straightened up from their exhausted postures.
"Wait, who was this guy again?" another asked, his brow furrowing as the group suddenly realized the man wasn't really someone they knew well — he had just appeared among them earlier that day with a plan and a calm demeanor.
The dark-eyed man stopped walking several feet away and glanced back at them over his shoulder, his dark eyes cold and detached.
"Kurt is the name," he said simply. "My regards to Hades in hell."
"What do you me—!" one of the robbers started to shout, but the words never finished.
Before any of them could react or finish the question, invisible threads sliced through the air with silent precision.
The cuts were clean and instantaneous — one moment the dozen men stood there breathing heavily, the next their bodies simply came apart.
Heads rolled cleanly from necks, torsos separated from waists in perfectly straight lines, arms and legs dropping away as if sliced by the sharpest blade imaginable.
Blood sprayed in sudden, vivid arcs against the alley walls and pooled rapidly on the dirty concrete, dark and glistening under the shadowed light.
The severed pieces fell with soft, wet thuds — limbs twitching once or twice before going still, bodies collapsing into disjointed heaps that no longer resembled the living men who had been running for their lives only moments earlier.
The air filled with the metallic scent of fresh blood mixing with the alley's earlier stench of garbage, while faint steam rose from the warm remains in the cool shade.
[Come in; this is Kurt.] [Kurt]
[Agent Kurt, what is the situation?]