Burnshot's face twisted into a sneer as he dug into his coat pocket again.
He took out three more small black canisters.
Without a word, he flung them toward Zain.
Zain's eyes widened slightly.
"Tch… seriously? You're throwing gadgets now?"
Burnshot grinned as the canisters clattered near Zain's feet.
"Of course I am."
He rolled his neck, heat flaring in his palms.
"What did you expect? I'm a villain. We don't play fair."
BOOM—SSSSHHHH.
The canisters exploded, but instead of fire, a thick black smoke covered the alley, blocking all vision.
Burnshot didn't waste a second.
He kept his Heat Palm just low enough to avoid igniting the smoke prematurely.
"Let's see you fight when you can't see."
He rushed forward into the fog, eyes squinting, heat rising off his arms.
"You're done, kid. Time to get cooked."
He lunged with both hands, aiming straight for where he guessed Zain was.
But then... a hand shot out from the smoke.
Fast and precise. Aimed straight for Burnshot's throat.
Burnshot's eyes widen, and he instinctively stepped back, just barely avoiding the grip.
"Tch—! What the hell?!"
The smoke began to vanish and through it, Zain stepped forward, smirking.
"Damn. Almost had you."
Burnshot backed up a few more steps, now visibly irritated.
"How—how did you see me?! That smoke's military grade—no one fights in it like that!"
Zain tilted his head slightly, his voice relaxed.
"I never said I only had two abilities, did I?"
He raised a finger to his temple.
"Night Eyes. One of my newer tricks. Full vision, even in this thick fog."
Burnshot cursed under his breath.
"Damn it... you're more trouble than I thought."
Zain took another slow step forward.
"You wanted to burn me, right? Now let's see if you can do it with broken bones."
---
Burnshot gritted his teeth and barked over his shoulder.
"Throw me something! Pipes—now!"
Two nearby thugs scrambled, grabbing long steel pipes from the side of the alley and tossing them forward.
Burnshot caught them midair, one in each hand.
He grinned viciously.
"Let's turn up the pressure."
His Heat Palm activated once more, and the pipes glowed red, not quite melted but heated enough to sizzle the air.
"Now let's see if you still want to try grabbing me, hero boy."
Burnshot swung both pipes through the air.
Zain smirked faintly but sighed.
"Tch... didn't expect you to carry backup toys. That heat'll cook my hands before I even reach you."
Burnshot didn't wait for a reply.
He lunged forward, slashing both heated pipes down in a crossing arc aimed straight at Zain's head.
"Try dodging this!"
But just before the pipes connected—Zain's hands flared.
Flame erupted around both of his palms—but tightly focused.
He compressed the fire in his right hand until it shimmered and hissed with unstable energy.
Then—
BOOM!
Zain detonated the flame mid-air, right before the steel pipes hit him.
The explosion was small and contained, but powerful enough to knock the pipes slightly off course.
It immediately disrupted Burnshot's balance.
Before Burnshot could recover, Zain's eyes locked on.
Quick Step.
Zain vanished and reappeared behind Burnshot in a heartbeat.
Burnshot spun to react, but he was still gripping both superheated pipes.
His hands were locked and off-guard.
He couldn't reach for more tricks.
Zain's smirk returned full force.
"Bad move. You forgot to protect your vitals."
With a smooth, merciless movement...
Zain launched a brutal kick straight into Burnshot's groin.
WHUMP.
Burnshot's body spasmed.
His jaw clenched, heat faltering from his hands as his knees buckled.
One of the pipes clattered to the ground, glowing red as it rolled away.
Zain stood over him.
"That's for trying to play dirty."
---
Burnshot dropped to one knee, groaning.
His face was twisted in pain as he clutched his groin.
Zain stepped forward slowly, stopping in front of Burnshot.
He stared at the panting villain, no longer amused—only cold.
"All that heat talk… and this is how you end up?"
Zain crouched and grabbed Burnshot by the head, fingers tightening around his skull.
Burnshot gasped, trying to pull away, but he was still too stunned.
"W-Wait! Hold on—"
Zain's grip tightened. His hand ignited.
Flame appeared on his palm as he began to burn Burnshot's head slowly.
Zain smirked darkly.
"Let's see if your head is flameproof."
Burnshot's eyes widened in panic.
"N-No—wait! I-I give up! I give up, man!"
Zain tilted his head slightly, his voice a low whisper.
"Didn't seem like you were planning to show me mercy. You were too busy trying to melt my skin off."
Burnshot struggled harder, smoke rising as the heat pressed in.
"P-Please! I was just following orders! This is just—just how it works here!"
For a moment, Zain's flame faded.
The heat vanished.
Burnshot let out a shaky sigh of relief, body slumping slightly.
He thought it was over.
But then—Zain smirked.
"Yeah… I thought about it. And I remembered…"
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping.
"You're my second meal today."
The fire roared back to life—Flame Hand ignited once more.
Burnshot's eyes widened in horror.
"W–wait, no—"
Too late.
Zain turned up the heat of his flame, trying to cook his head.
A hissing sound of something being grilled could be heard.
Burnshot's head had become black as his skin was burned from the fire.
His corpse collapsed to the ground, still emitting some heat from his palm and head.
Zain slowly stood up, brushing the ash off his sleeves, his expression calm.
"You wielded heat… and couldn't even handle the flame."
He shook his head slightly.
"That's just disappointing."
The nearby Rust Rats watched in horrified silence, none daring to move.
Zain glanced toward them, his smirk returning.
"Now... who's next?"
---
Burnshot's final moments had silenced the entire alley. For a long beat, no one moved.
Then—panic.
"Screw this, I'm outta here!"
One of the Rust Rats blurted, dropping his iron pipe and turning heel.
The others didn't wait.
Some darted through narrow alleyways and others jumped over broken fences.
Their bravado from minutes ago was gone—replaced by raw fear.
"That kid's a freak! He took down Burnshot!"
"We're dead if we stay here—move! MOVE!"
One tripped over a broken bottle, scrambled back up, and kept running.
Another tossed his mask aside as if shedding his identity might save him.
They didn't look back.
No one dared.
Not when the man who just incinerated a C-Rank enforcer like it was nothing was still standing there.
Even the toughest among them, the ones who thought they were untouchable in CB-2, ran like rats from fire.