Colchis. As/A: 3084.

Milen

"I am so used to this metallic taste of blood in my mouth, so much that it has already become a cliché... quite redundant even." Milen chuckled and spat a ball of blood moulded in phlegm.

His face looked fresh, as though he had not just feigned weakness, and intentionally received countless kicks and punches. Although he had occasionally landed a few of his own, but from a side view, he looked desolate like he was at the edge of the abyss, and a small nudge would send him falling into it's deep, dark, cloudy chasm.

Of course it was faked. A bait to lure the big fish.

Suddenly a bright light flashed through his eyes, and he immediately became ferocious like a dog with a scythe at its neck. Within his slight spur, already marking his prey, he suddenly broke through the dozen men, pounced on a man with slender body and squinting eye, eyes that bore the extreme caution and meticulousness of a veteran. The man stood a few feet from the mob who had encircled Milen. He hadn't attacked, be simple watched with his hands folded behind him.

A quick jab to the throat, and another immediately followed, rushing and bombarding at his chest. Milen exerted a tiny bit of strength to attack. Quick and decisive.

The slender veteran eyes first bore shock. He'd never expected that their prey had such mountainous strength, and looking at Milen face where a sly grin glued to it, the veteran suddenly understood that they were the prey, falsely strutting like predators.

He knew that they were all being played by Milen. Immediately alarmed, he wanted to expose his findings and raise an alarm, but it was too late.

Cough!

Blood spurted from his mouth, his face suddenly grew pale, and he dropped on the floor.

"He... He's dead!" Someone stuttered as he cried.

Milen immediately killed the grin on his face, resumed the facade of a sorry state: dropping to the floor and struggling to stand. Staggering a few times, he slowly turned at the bewildered crowed, turned back ahead, and jolted off at full speed.

But all this was from a while ago, and Milen had successfully dragged out the bigger fish, and now had him ensnared.

"Do you know the word righteousness?" Milen asked, the corners of his lips slowly curled, but his gaze shot at the quivering man caught between a stone wall and himself, showed his viciousness: a cold deadening look that felt like billions of ice cold razor, slicing through his skin. This made the man almost wet himself.

"I'm not entirely sure," Milen continued. "but I think it is when a person does right, right? C'mon RIGHT-eousness...that's a no brainer."
He let loose a sickening laugh.

"Please, let me go, I -" the man pleaded, and pushed himself deeper into the wall, wishing he could be absorbed by them and appear at the other end.

This man's wish was simply a pipe dream. Where they stood was a narrow alley: a slim path between two tall building, enjoined by the equally heightened stone wall his back was pressed against.

"Do you know what righteousness and I have in common?"

Milen asked again.

The man whose galloping heart would have easily overshadowed whatever sound he would have made, with fear of further angering the enemy before him, he was better off staying mute.

Why did he let greed land him in this precarious situation. The person he had tailed, in order to threaten at gun point for all his money and belonging, although initially looked weaker than himself upon trading fists with some of his lackeys before "running" for his life, turned out to be something that should never be touched: a demon whose eyes were dead to all forms of empathy.

Having fired a couple of shots into the air, and smirking that he had this stranger in a deadlock with his pistol and a stone wall, this said stranger never once showed him more than his back.

He recalled threatening him to have both his hands in the air as he turned slowly to face him, and instead what he heard said man (Milen) say was "ho? Look who came to play..." And before he could think up a retort, the stranger before him had vanished, and his own words of threat were what was now directed at him from behind.

What a seriously bad joke. In an instant, their situations were reversed.

Stiffly turning, as his brain was a bit slow on the uptake of a man vanishing in front of him, and hearing said man's voice ordering him from behind, most of his body went numb, and he met his demonic glare reaching for him like hundreds of hands stretching forth to drag him to the deepest level of hell.

His only reaction was to take a step back, gain a good distance, and regain composure to challenge him, but with what?

Guns were a rarity in this present world, and those lucky enough to possess one treasured it as a second life. This man, Orslo Pini, one of the Kingpins who ruled the underground of Colchis, was no different from the rest of the few. His weapon was said to be different than most, as it was enchanted by magic, and protected by runes registered with his life essence, therefore this weapon only responded to him as its master.

With a tremendous speed did each bullet soar, and even powerful magical protection barriers would be pierced through by it's power.

But what was such a man doing here: checkmated by Milen?

Upon receiving reports of a little squabble between some unidentified people, and his men, Orslo, also called Pincer Barrel as his skill with a gun put many foes at a disadvantage, and with one of his secret skills Ricochet: Diamond Reflection where dozens of bullets are fired, it's propulsion and momentum controlled, and the bullets bounce off each other and slowly gains more speed and power.

Further, he can also control its trajectory making it become more of an hexagonal shaped crystal: a barrier of highly powerful enchanted one-hit-kill bullets. This skill was called Ricochet: Dancing Rings Of Hexagon. Escape is nearly impossible.

He had decided to use this chance to subjugate the enemy, and increase his own fame as a subjugation expert. His heart before was panting excitedly as he'd chased Milen, as he thought about how he subjugated a man who was strong enough to fend off a dozen men, and also killed Xiao Long, one whose strength and talent made air for him to compete with the elites of the under-surface world.

Unfortunately, this time the Pincer Barrel was the one locked in a situation that blared every alarm in his head.

Orslo facing the man, led by instinct, he equally pointed the hand housing his gun at the man before with a flicker of confidence that in terms of weapon choice he had the upper hand, and he wouldn't hesitate to use one of his secret skills; the man before him was such an enemy, and any lapse in judgement on his part, could lead to his defeat.

Orslo was an incredibly cautious man, and his experience had taught him to never dare look down on an opponent. But that was not the case anymore, for this was no more than his moulded fist stretched at a man his instinct blared violently against.

"Where did the gun go?" His mind did not want to accept the reality before him. "Magic? No! I don't remember him chanting any spells. A thief skill? Impossible! Skills are techniques honed over decades of dedicated mastery, a peak only a handful of people in the world could reach because of it's delicacy. The man before him couldn't possibly own a skill, he looks too young for it." Orslo then slowly shifted his gaze to Milen who stood before him having a devilish grin plastered to his face, and his eyes burning in excitement, not to mention the eek feeling of blackness that oozed from his body.

The predator has become the prey. Orslo could collapse.

And his predator's surreal question echoed in his head again. "Do you know what righteousness and I have in common?"

He possibly could not provide an answer to him, and wondered what the need was behind his absurd questions.

"That is right, " Milen bent closer to his face, "Nothing!" and pulled away from him.

The man whose legs could no longer support the weight of terror pressing down on him, finally realised the mind behind the questions. His gut clenched tightly, and he wanted to scream, but the screeched was swallowed by the fear it would meet upon leaving his lips.

But for some reason, Orslo wasn't at the depth of his despair yet, because he was well aware that the weapon in Milen's hand was useless as only he (Orslo) could wield the power of the gun. His despair however, was from the man himself (Milen), there was no telling what the extent of his strength really was.

He let down a gulp, and continued listening to Milen.

"We're enemies; direct opposites. Righteousness and I."
Milen continued.

- All he could do was beg desperately.
"Please, spare me. I-I will do anything. Ju-just please do not kill me."

"I wish I could, but seeing you dead would grant me so much satisfaction." Milen tilted his head slightly and had the deep death look digging into the man's.
"You came at me with the intent to kill, it wouldn't be a crime if did the same would it?"

"- Hands up, or I'm gonna blow your head sky high."

A voice cried from behind Milen.

"Well, looks like we've got an audience, a man who would like to relish in our fun."
Not giving attention to the bellowing man, Milen kept on speaking to the terrified man who had made peace with his whatever deity seemed sufficient.
"It'll be selfish if I deprive them of the fun we're having, don't you think so?"
He then turned to face the man: fingers on the trigger, and ready to shoot him too.

"I said hands up." The man ordered again.

"Calm down gentleman and wait your turn, I promise you," he spoke, his face looking more genuine than ever. "everybody here will partake in the merriment. There's enough for every - oh! I see!"

The impatient man had already sent a swimming bullet at him. Milen wanted to teach them a lesson, so he equally yet gently pressed down the trigger, and fired a bullet directly at the one aiming for him. Both went head-on on each other, cancelling each other's mobility and dropping to the floor.

Orslo almost died from shock. "How is that possible..." He screamed within his innards as his body resumed a new session of quivering. "He...he used my gun...my gun... impossible!"

The final hole Orslo had at surviving, was snuffed out just like that. At this point, he knew that all hope was lost. He finally resolved himself to fate.

"You must be pretty skilled with the gun. Impressive." Milen commended.

The man before Milen, meeting eyes with the one held in place by a wall, asked in terror almost similar to the latter.
"What-what just happened?"
His shout resounded through the walls enclosing them.

"An average shooter's bullet would have been stopped by mine, and your brains would have been blown to shreds by now. But what the hell-"

"- Run away! Run!"
Orslo screamed, but his advice was blatantly ignored - not ignored, the other could not muster the strength to move from the spot, he was afraid that the moment he as much as blinks, a bullet would pierce through his skull.

His instinct weren't wrong.

"Its two against one, what are the odds?" He asked the one before him, and immediately turned behind and asked Orslo too. "What really are the odds?"

They both said nothing than simply contemplate their demise: one was at gun point, while the other was held at bay by a massive wall. So really, what are the odds?

"So, " Milen was finally ready for execution. "I will kill you two in three shots."
He squeezed tightly the magazine of his gun, and zeroed his focus at the man before him. He then mockingly asked,
"Do you mind doing the counting, or should I?"

"Damn you!"
The one before him fired a bullet instinctively in fear. And moments after,
"What?!"
The fear recoiled, and he was now coated in shock when he noticed that he missed his shot.

No, he hadn't missed. His despair heightened when he realized that Milen had slight bent is head to dodge the shot. The bullet luckily pierced into wall, evading the man locked in front of it.

"THAT WAS A BULLET! HOW CAN YOU DODGE THAT?!"

Realizing what danger his instinct had just dragged him into, he lowered his weapon, and buried his head in his hands in disappointment. He had given up.

"How did that happen?"
Still in shock, he managed a few words through.

"He is a beast. Run away."
The man at the farther end pleaded, but the later was too slowly giving into depravity that those words couldn't reach him.

"Its my turn, won't you agree kind sir?"
Milen aimed closely at his head.
"Pow!" He mimicked the sound mad from the gun's powerful blast.

As the bullet Milen shot dove for him, he simply began to chuckle. Not condescension or pride. It was a humor he had when he realised how stupidly cocky his past self of a few minutes back before meeting this man before him was. We were careful. We know Colchis is a home to literal monsters, but we were careful not to attack foes who we couldn't afford to offend... I guess the heavens are against us today.

"Ha-ha!" He dropped the gun he had. His legs wouldn't stop shaking, and he smiled at it, as he understood what state it was in. Facing something like this, it was only natural for his legs to shiver uncontrollably.

"What is the color of your soul?"

"Huh?" Both men simultaneously asked in trepidation as the felt the pressure from Milen grow and a faint aura building on his body as his bloodlust grew.

At this moment, they both realized that the question was not for them as the followed the direction Milen was looking at, with furrowed brows.

"Kikiki... You discovered me this quickly?" A sly chuckle reverberated the walls around them. The words seemingly coming out from everywhere.

"You don't seem to be an ordinary human..." The voice said again, echoing from every direction as a thin man stepped out, dark smoke coiling around his body as he moved.

He held a dagger in both hands as he walked. Each step followed with it a mountain of pressure, as he finally came to stop before Milen.

A casual swing of his wrist, the man from earlier was immediately shredded to pieces. Orslo's heart immediately jolted as he saw this, knowing that he was next.

Orslo wasn't wrong. He immediately began to feel a severe form of danger swimming on every inch of him.
He had given into fate when he heard Milen suddenly speak...

"I never gave you permission to kill him!" As he spoke, the faint aura around him emboldened. An azure colored aura like thick blue flames, suddenly materialized around him, instantly suppressing the dark aura that filled the alley corner.

Noticing that his darkness energy was being repressed, his heart tightened as his gaze grew cold.

He slightly chuckled, and spoke.
"My name is Mezalek, from the temple of the dark mage. My job is to keep tabs on the powerful visitors of Colchis. And as I thought, you cannot be left to wander as you please..."

"With just you alone?" As Milen spoke, the chattering sound of Orslo's gun could be heard as Milen dropped it, and his hands slowly folding into a fist.

"Aren't I enough?" Mezalek slyly asked with a smile. His instinct alerted him that Milen was dangerously different from his previous opponents, and he knew that in a direct confrontation, he wasn't the man's match, but who said he would fight head to head with him.

He was an assassin who could control the shadow with his magic, his attacks were hidden, deadly, and concise. This was where his confidence came from, and he had almost a hundred percent chance at victory.

Orslo on the other hand could not help but imagine what the situation before him was like. These two individuals simply went beyond the threshold of humans... They are monsters. He couldn't stop his body was shaking as he knew that he was about to watch the showdown between men who stood at the very apex of the this world.