Two days ended up going by and Tristan got the hang of living in society—even if he already initially understood the concept. He only didn't have recollections of ever partaking in such.
People started to know him since his features were particularly eye-catching, mostly his beautiful eyes.
Still, he was mostly known by those who had seen him battle the head of the Killer whales. And recalling his fair skin and wet hair from that day, they nicknamed him 'The boy from the ocean.'
His fame spread as he became more frequent to the public eye, and although many were skeptical due to the strength he displayed when he lifted an abandoned car with relative ease. A feat even class-2 individuals could not pull off with the ease he displayed.
Nevertheless, most liked him because of what they heard. Besides, he wronged no one, even if they also respected him and didn't cross boundaries. Nobody wanted to take chances.
The night of his fifth day in the town of Shej quickly arrived and by this point, the other housemates could speak with him without getting intimidated.
There was still distance between them, but it wasn't as much as it was three days prior. Mark remained more confident with Tristan around, they were becoming friends, and the man understood more of Tristan's nature.
Mark and two others prepared a meal for the entire house and they all ate together before resting for the night. Or so they planned.
Hours passed after everyone retreated to their beds, but Tristan suddenly opened his eyes to immediately sit up. He furrowed his brows as his ears perked up to listen for a certain sound.
Several bangs reached his ears from the outside world and a rush of instincts filled him so much so that he jumped to the window to look outside.
It was dark and the cold winds gushed into his face when the curtains were parted. Tristan's eyes widened at the scene his eyes caught sight of, and he dashed out of his still doorless room.
As though waiting for that simple action, an explosion in the intensity of bangs unfolded into the world from all around them as screams and wails reached his powerful ears.
Tristan found Mark already awoken, but he sat on the couch, a troubled expression evident.
"What is going on?" He asked rather calmly, simply curious and slightly worried. Mark could only shake his head in obvious confusion.
Frowning, Tristan rushed downstairs and Mark followed.
The others were equally awake, pulled out of their sleep by the violence already obvious to be occurring on the outside.
The air was tense and fear started to grow. Tristan didn't like it and tried to leave the building when Mark stopped him.
"It's a raid… those are gunshots you hear. The enforcers are here." Holding onto Tristan's right arm, Mark lowered his gaze when his countenance grew dark.
He closed his eyes when screams reached his ears too. The enforcers weren't too far from their location.
"We can go somewhere for hiding. One of the abandoned buildings should do till morning." One of the others suggested, fear evident on his youthful features.
"Can't we do something, you said the enforcers aren't good people," Tristan countered, not willing to let those men and women die.
From his position, he could hear what was going on as though they played out right in front of him. The gunshots made him cringe from time to time.
"We can't. There's no use, they'll just call for reinforcements." Mark explained saddened by their situation.
He would not be seeing some of the people he knew after that day. Then again, they had never been truly present in those few days.
Tristan felt at a loss for words. From the looks of their expressions, it became apparent that raids such as that one weren't rare. They all had accepted the town's fate.
Heaving a sigh he tried to speak when a series of gunshots resounded too close to their location, even Tristan shook at the abruptness of the event.
Immediately, they adopted hushed tones crouching in quick succession.
The rain of bullets stopped and they each listened for any sounds, both ready yet hesitant to make a break for it.
Unfortunately, it didn't take too long for something far much worse to arrive at their door.
An explosion.
Tristan crossed his arms before his face when the front door and a significant chunk of the concrete wall exploded. Sending bits of wood and chunks of stone flying everywhere. The event generated a loud bang.
Lowering his arms immediately the explosion died off Tristan felt fear grip his chest. Not for himself, however, but for the others.
He had survived without a scratch, but the same couldn't be said for the others.
Red dots appeared on his body and the building's insides. His body moved instinctively; lunging himself towards Marcus's figure in a bid to shield him.
He had been too slow, unfortunately, and before he could even move the five men in front of the building rained bullets on the building's insides, aiming to kill whatever lifeforms roamed its walls.
Tristan felt small high-speed objects slam into his back punching holes in his clothes, but he remained undamaged.
He managed to grab Mark in his arms only after two bullets had struck him. His own body stopped the rest.
The others weren't so lucky.
Three out of the five died from the initial explosion, while the remaining two found several bullets in their bodies. They would be dead soon. Their second and final deaths.
The bullets used by the enforcers were magically enhanced to deal with magical beings.
Only those bullets were low-grade ones—just as their targets were low leveled entities.
The rain of bullets didn't last nine seconds, but the deal had been done.
Flashlights were finally beamed into the severely damaged building. The power supply had mysteriously vanished.
Tristan grunted moments later and he quickly stopped laying on Mark, only to realize that two bullets had struck his left thigh and chest. He was alive, but dying.
"Tch. The dead should stay dead." One of the five snorted.
"That should be all." Tristan heard another person announce whilst they inspected the scene with their lights.
One of them caught sight of a moving figure and alerted the others who immediately aimed their guns at the figure, startled.
Tristan stood, Mark's body in his arms.
Turning to face those men, he cringed at the lights they pointed into his eyes. Those men remained astonished when they realized that the figure belonged to a young man.
"There was a person here?!" One of them stepped forward, worry and great shock evident in his voice.
"My god, boy are you okay? Wha…!!" The man's steps and words were cut short by the wave of terror that sprung up in his chest.
For an instant, he had complications even breathing, and his words hung in his throat, held down by the heavy killing intent filling the area.
"Why have you done this?" Tristan's voice rang out, his gaze fixed on Mark's figure. Rage boiled in his mind, but emotional pain ravaged his chest at the sight that lay before him.
Marcus had stopped breathing.
"I'll kill you for this…" Tristan whispered, lowering Mark's dead body to the ground—his expression that of deep pain. His tone on the other hand spoke of his resolve to do dark things.
Threatened by the menacing boy and his words, the man at the forefront took a step back, his eyes widened as his finger instinctively lay on the trigger of his black riffle. He aimed as a part of reflexes.
He remained ready to shoot when primal fear gripped his chest and shock filled his head the instant his target vanished from his gaze.
The powerful gust of wind that manifested as a result of Tristan's movement made the man take another step back as a tall figure appeared before him. He cursed himself for not opening fire.
Unfortunately, in quick succession to that event came blinding pain and the man ended up letting go of his gun due to its crippling effect.
Unable to face the person before him, the soldier lowered his gaze to his belly and his features contorted in horror and disbelief.
Tristan's fist had punched a hole in the man's gut, so much so that his arm remained stuck inside him. His fist dripped with blood on the other side.
Blood poured out of the man's mouth and nose as he coughed in unfathomable pain. Tristan did not care, however.
He swung his arm to the side, sending his victim flying until he crashed into a distant building.
He died before he smashed through the building's walls.
The remaining four men had watched that scene unfold in untold horror. And they could swear it happened in slow motion.
Tristan bent his knees and inhaled sharply.
Hyper due to terror of certain death, they opened fire at the tall figure before them, raining bullets without care.
Unfortunately, all they could see before their visions spun were blurs. The darkness of death replaced their consciousness afterward.
Tristan ended them so quickly that they had not felt pain.