The Alley
The streets were quiet, save for the low hum of conversation from a shadowed alleyway. Three men stood huddled, their laughter low and cruel.
The chubby man, still bearing wounds from Raphael's attack, clenched his fists, his face twisted with hate. "Damn that brat… If only I could torture him for what he did to me!"
"Come on, man, you know that ain't possible," the grey-eyed man chuckled.
"Yeah, the boss has a real soft spot for the bastard," the smoker added, exhaling a plume of smoke into the cold air.
"And you know how the boss reacts when someone touches his possession… He gets all crazy," the red-haired man said with a smirk.
"Fuck that bastard!" The chubby man snarled, kicking the brick wall hard.
"Chill out, man. You'll get your revenge once the little sister is in our possession," the grey-eyed man sneered.
"You do like them young, huh?" the red-haired man teased.
The chubby man licked his lips, his grin turning perverse. "Yeah… The little girl is quite the eye-catcher."
The three men burst into laughter.
"That… is very, very disgusting."
The laughter died.
The voice had come from behind them—low, deep, and edged with something unnatural.
Slowly, they turned.
An old man stood there, his presence like a shadow that had always been there, unseen.
The chubby man stepped forward, chest puffed out. "Hey, old man, what the hell do you want?"
Subaru didn't move. His gaze was empty, cold. "I don't have a problem with you… not yet."
The red-haired man scoffed. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Hey, old man," the grey-eyed man sneered, "if you know what's good for you, you'll walk away."
Hehehehehe.
The chuckle was low at first, but it grew, filling the alley with something sickly, something wrong.
"What's so funny?" the chubby man barked, grabbing Subaru's collar.
The air shifted.
Suddenly, it was heavier—thick, suffocating.
Subaru's voice dropped into something deeper, something almost inhuman. "I will count to three. If you don't let go of me—"
The chubby man smirked. "And what? What the hell are you gonna do, old man?"
"One."
The grey-eyed man shifted uneasily. "Hey, maybe we should just—"
"What are you talking about?" the red-haired man scoffed.
"Two."
The chubby man grinned. "I ain't letting him go. Matter of fact, I think he'd make a fine slave."
"Three."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
SCHLICK.
Blood sprayed.
The chubby man gasped. His mouth opened, but only a strangled, gurgling sound came out.
Then—
"AAAAARRGGGHHHH! AAAAHHHH! FUCK! MY—MY HAND!"
His right hand lay on the ground, twitching in a puddle of blood.
The grey-eyed man's face turned pale. "H-his hand—! He cut off his hand—when—how?!"
The chubby man collapsed to his knees, clutching his bleeding stump. "AARRHHH! AAAAHH! F-FUCK!"
Subaru knelt beside him, his voice eerily calm. "How does it feel?"
The chubby man's breath hitched.
"How does it feel to be the one on your knees? To be weak?" Subaru whispered.
"P-please—"
Subaru grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground—once, twice, three times. The cobblestones cracked.
The red-haired man snapped out of his shock. "You bastard!" He lunged with a dagger.
Subaru sidestepped.
Then—
CRACK.
His hand shot forward, gripping the man's wrist. A simple twist—
"AAAARRRGGGHHH! MY ARM!"
Bone pierced through flesh. The arm dangled at an impossible angle.
Subaru's grip shifted, moving to the man's throat. He squeezed.
"GAAGGHH! GHHK—!" The red-haired man kicked and thrashed, his face turning purple.
"You talk too much," Subaru muttered.
A brutal jerk—
SNAP.
The man's body slumped, lifeless. Subaru dropped him to the ground.
The grey-eyed man fell back, his breath ragged.
"P-please," he stammered, "what do you want?"
Subaru crouched, his cold gaze pinning him in place. "Where is your boss?"
The man didn't hesitate. He spat out the location, his words rushed, desperate.
Subaru stood.
The man exhaled shakily.
"C-consider this mercy?" he whispered.
Subaru sighed. "Yes."
The grey-eyed man let out a relieved breath. "Th-thank—"
SWISH.
His head hit the ground.
His body fell a second later.
Subaru flicked the blood from his blade.
Another sigh.
Then, he walked away.
Raphael hung from the iron chains, his body nothing but bruises, torn flesh, and searing pain. His wrists burned where the metal cut into them, his blood dripping to the cold stone floor beneath him. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, his ribs screaming with every inhale. The air was thick—choking, suffocating—reeking of sweat, blood, and something rotten. His head lolled forward, exhaustion threatening to drag him under.
Then—footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
He lifted his head as best as he could. The pain protested, but he forced himself to stay alert. A shadow loomed, stepping into the dim light.
The boss.
That sick grin stretched across the man's face as he stopped just inches away. "Hope you weren't feeling too lonely," he sneered.
Raphael said nothing.
The boss's smile twitched. Annoyance flickered in his eyes. And then—
A kick.
Raphael's body jolted against the chains.
"Aaaagh!" The sound tore from his throat before he could stop it.
Another kick. This one harder, straight to the ribs. Something cracked.
Raphael gritted his teeth, but the pain was unbearable. His body shuddered violently, sweat mixing with the blood on his skin.
The boss laughed. "I was talking to you, Raphael! Talk to me! Talk to me!"
Another brutal kick. Raphael's body swung in the chains, the movement making the iron dig deeper into his raw flesh. He gasped, biting back another scream.
The boss grabbed his hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to face him. His fingers twisted cruelly, yanking hard enough to rip strands from Raphael's scalp.
"You're going to suffer," the boss whispered, his breath reeking of alcohol and blood. "I'll break you. And soon… your sister's head will be right here, beside yours."
Something snapped inside Raphael.
His muscles tensed. His breathing turned ragged—pure rage fueling him. With everything he had left, he lunged—teeth bared, aiming straight for the bastard's face.
The boss yanked back just in time, releasing him with a laugh. "Feisty!"
Raphael growled, his chest rising and falling in rapid, furious breaths. The chains rattled violently as he struggled, pulling, straining, not caring about the pain. He didn't care if his arms ripped from their sockets—he just needed to kill him.
"I will kill you," Raphael snarled, his voice raw. "I will kill you and every last one of your men!"
The boss grinned. "Yes, yes! That's what I like to hear!" His eyes gleamed with twisted excitement. And then—
Crack.
A fist slammed into Raphael's ribs.
"GHHAAHH—!"
His vision blurred, white-hot agony exploding through his body. Before he could even recover—
Another.
A brutal punch to his jaw.
His head snapped to the side. His skull slammed against the cold stone wall. The world spun. Blood—warm and thick—trickled down his temple, mixing with the sweat and dirt on his face. His breaths were shallow now, his body trembling uncontrollably.
The boss stepped back, admiring his work. He raised his boot—
Then—
A commotion outside.
Heavy, rushed footsteps echoed. Someone burst into the room—a man, panting, fear painted across his face. "Boss!"
The boss turned sharply, irritated. "What?"
"There's… an intruder," the man stammered, breathless.
The boss scoffed. "Let Angelo deal with it."
The man hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Then—
"Boss… Angelo's dead."
Silence.
A slow, creeping anger darkened the boss's face. His fingers twitched before his fist shot out, slamming into the messenger's nose.
"You incompetent idiot! You're telling me you can't handle one damn person?!"
Raphael barely heard them anymore. His head slumped forward, his body going limp. The pain was too much, his consciousness slipping. He couldn't fight anymore.
His sister's face flashed in his mind—her bright eyes, her innocent smile.
"I'm sorry, Lily," he thought, his heart sinking. "I should've protected you…"
A tear mixed with the blood on his face.
And then—
Everything faded to black.
Shadows of the Past
The chains rattled. The prisoners moved in silence, bodies weak, legs barely holding them up. Some stumbled, only to be yanked forward by the metal binding them together.
The knights marched alongside them, uncaring. Some laughed, others lashed out with whips. The cracks echoed through the trees.
A knight on horseback pulled his reins. His voice was sharp. "We stop here for the night."
"But sir—"
"Look at them," he snapped. "They won't make it to morning if we push them now."
Orders were given. Tents were pitched. A fire was lit. The knights drank and laughed, the sounds mixing with the low whimpers of the prisoners.
Inside the largest tent, the air was thick with suffering. The prisoners huddled together, hunger gnawing at their stomachs, their bodies too drained for words.
The tent flap rustled. A young knight entered, carrying two loaves of bread. His hands shook slightly.
"Here... this is your food." His voice was soft, almost apologetic.
A small boy stood. Beast ears twitched. Eyes glowed in the dim light.
"Raphael, sit down," a man whispered urgently.
Raphael didn't move. He stepped forward, staring up at the knight.
The knight hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he handed him the bread. "Share it. I'm sorry... it's not enough."
A voice called from outside. The knight flinched.
"I'm coming, sir!" He turned and left.
Silence.
Then—
"Hey, brat."
The voice was low, ugly. A heavyset man sneered from the corner, eyes locked onto the bread.
"Hand it over."
Raphael tightened his grip.
"The children need it more," the older man said, voice calm but firm.
The man scoffed. "And? I'm hungry too."
A woman's sharp voice cut in. "Why should beast brats eat before us?"
Murmurs spread.
The chubby man stepped closer, hand reaching. "Give it—"
Raphael moved. Fast.
His teeth sank into the man's hand.
"AAAAAGHHHHH! YOU LITTLE SHIT!"
Blood dripped from Raphael's mouth. The man staggered back, clutching his fingers.
The tent flap tore open. A knight stormed in.
"What the hell is going on?!"
The chubby man pointed, shaking with rage. "That bastard bit me!"
The knight's gaze flicked between them. His face darkened.
"Shut up. All of you. Make noise again, and someone dies."
Silence.
The knight turned and left.
The chubby man glared at Raphael. Took a step forward.
"Let it go," another prisoner said, voice steady. "The man's right. Let the children eat."
The man clenched his fists. Stepped back. Muttered curses.
Raphael said nothing. He tore the bread into pieces, handing it to the younger ones. Small, trembling hands took them. Mothers wiped their children's faces, whispering thanks.
Raphael didn't eat.
He just watched.
And stayed silent.