"This is why investigating in the slums is nearly impossible," muttered Daysze, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at the sawmill. Its dilapidated structure looked no different from any of the countless abandoned buildings in the area. "How are you supposed to tell one deserted wreck from another?"
"Everyone, ready your weapons," Jae ordered sharply, drawing her steam-pistol with a practiced motion. Her tone left no room for hesitation. "Once we're inside, point at the nearest target. If they don't comply, shoot to wound. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Silas and Malvin replied in unison, pulling out their own steam-pistols. The tension among the group was palpable as they prepared for whatever lay beyond the decaying doors.
Reinhard stepped forward, his steam-pistol gleaming faintly in the light. "I'll take point," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Daysze and Jae, you're behind me. Silas and Malvin, you cover the rear. Clear?"
A series of nods confirmed the formation. Without further delay, the group moved toward the sawmill's entrance—a set of weathered wooden double doors that looked ready to splinter under any pressure. Reinhard raised his hand, signaling the countdown. "On my mark," he said. "Three… two… one… go!"
With a powerful kick, Reinhard smashed the doors open, sending splinters flying. The team surged inside, weapons drawn and ready. "Everyone, hands in the air—" Reinhard began, his voice echoing through the cavernous interior.
"Surprise!" a voice called out, dripping with mockery.
Before they could react, a sudden explosion of fine dust engulfed them, choking the air and obscuring their vision. Malvin coughed violently as the particles invaded his lungs, blinking rapidly against the stinging assault. *Sawdust?* he realized bitterly, the texture unmistakable.
In the chaos, they felt their weapons yanked from their hands in rapid succession, too quickly for anyone to resist. The motion was impossibly swift, unnatural in its precision. Malvin's stomach sank as realization dawned. He gritted his teeth, growling one name through clenched jaws. "Ambrose."
As their vision cleared, the figure standing before them came into focus. He was tall and exuded an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His perfectly tailored red dress shirt, charcoal waistcoat, and matching pants contrasted sharply with the grime of the sawmill. His brown hair was neatly combed to one side, adding to the polished image of a man who didn't belong in a place like this.
In his hands were their steam-pistols, held like trophies. With an almost theatrical smirk, he dropped them unceremoniously to the ground before stomping down, the crunch of metal underfoot echoing in the silence. Each weapon shattered under his heel, leaving the officers effectively disarmed.
"Wow," Ambrose said, his voice brimming with condescension as he dusted off his hands. "You really thought I wouldn't notice when five Ironguard officers decided to storm into my neighborhood? Truly amateur work. It's almost insulting." He took a step forward, his gaze locking on Malvin.
"And look at you," he sneered, his smirk widening. "I knew you survived, but I didn't expect you to come back looking so… pristine." His tone dripped with mock sympathy before his eyes flicked to Silas.
"And you," he continued, his expression darkening. "I can't wait to see how well you hold up in a fight after watching your partner's performance last time."
Silas instinctively took a step back, a shiver running down his spine as Joshua's piercing gaze locked onto him. Joshua's smirk deepened, clearly relishing the reaction. "Stop that," Reinhard said sharply, stepping forward to block Joshua's line of sight. "You're scaring my junior."
Joshua tilted his head, an amused smirk spreading across his face. "And who might you be?" he asked, placing his hands casually on his hips, his confidence unshaken.
Reinhard's lips curled into a confident smirk. "Someone who's about to punish you for laying a hand on my juniors," he declared. With a smooth motion, he reached into his coat and pulled out two strange metal tonfas, their surfaces etched with intricate designs that seemed to hum faintly with steam.
Joshua's chuckle echoed through the sawmill. "You know what? Forget him," he said, gesturing dismissively toward Silas with a flick of his hand. "You seem much more interesting. I'm going to enjoy this." With a casual sweep of both hands, he pushed his hair back, his smirk growing sharper.
Malvin took a step forward, his tone defiant. "What makes you think you're fighting him alone?" he said, gripping his fists, ready to jump in.
Joshua waved him off with a lazy gesture. "Because," he said, lifting his arm and pointing a finger toward the rafters, "you'll all be busy dealing with him."
The officers barely had time to process the statement when a figure leapt down from above, landing between Reinhard and the rest of the team with a heavy thud that reverberated through the sawmill. Dust billowed up from the impact as the figure straightened, slowly lifting his head. Green eyes, wild and unhinged, locked onto Malvin and Silas. A sharp grin split the man's face, revealing prominent fangs.
"Finally," the man growled, his voice guttural and filled with an unnatural edge. "I get to rip you to pieces!"
Silas's voice trembled as he whispered, "Th-that's Philip Crude?" His eyes widened in horror. "What… what happened to him?"
The figure before them barely resembled the man Malvin and Silas had seen weeks prior. His body was larger, bulkier, with muscles coiling beneath his skin like those of a wild predator. His posture was feral, hunched slightly as if always ready to pounce. His expression, though, was the most chilling part—unbridled insanity gleamed in his eyes, more beast than man.
Jae's smile was strained, and sweat glistened on her brow. "I didn't sign up for this," she muttered, fingers twitching nervously at her side.
Daysze let out a low whistle, his usually relaxed demeanor cracking under the pressure. "Yeah, I'm way too old to be tangling with that."
Malvin swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand firm despite the primal fear clawing at the edges of his mind. His instincts screamed at him to run. This wasn't what he had been expecting. Something about Philip's presence—the sheer hostility radiating from him—set every nerve in his body on edge.
Philip crouched, muscles tensing, preparing to lunge. But just as he seemed ready to charge, an overwhelming wave of killing intent washed over the room, halting him in his tracks. His grin faltered as he turned his head just in time to see Reinhard closing in, one of his tonfas raised high, ready to crush Philip's skull.
"Don't forget about me!" Joshua's voice cut through the tension, and in an instant, he closed the distance between them with inhuman speed, launching a flying roundhouse kick aimed directly at Reinhard's head. Reinhard managed to block the strike with his tonfa, but the sheer force of the impact sent him skidding back several feet.
"Focus on Philip Crude," Reinhard ordered, his tone losing its usual levity as his attention zeroed in on Joshua. "I'll finish this quickly."
"Yes, sir!" Malvin and Silas replied in unison, moving to the front to shield Jae and Daysze.
Malvin's gaze locked onto Philip, his fists clenching tightly as he pushed down the growing dread in his chest. "You killed those two to send us a message, didn't you?" His voice rang out, cutting through the tension. "Then come at us, you scum!"
Philip's grin returned, wider and wilder than before. The feral beast was ready, and the fight was about to begin.