As the arrow splintered in his grasp, a vein pulsed visibly on his temple, a clear sign of his rising fury. He whipped his head towards the origin of the projectile, his anger manifesting in the tight clenching of his jaw.
Summoning his blade with a fluid motion, Matt channeled a surge of black and orange mana through the weapon. With a powerful swing, he unleashed a devastating wave of energy, obliterating the foliage and shadows that had concealed his attackers.
The forest erupted into chaos as the protective cover of his enemies was torn apart. The once-hidden foes were now exposed, and the rabbit stood ready, his resolve steeled by the sudden confrontation.
The sudden eruption of mana sent the enemies scattering in a frenzy, their attempts to flee from the enraged rabbit proving futile. The rabbit moved with relentless efficiency, his scythe a blur of black and orange as he cut through the chaos.
Each swing was precise, each strike decisive. The enemies' frantic efforts to escape were met with swift retribution. Mattheos's skill and fury combined to dismantle their defenses, leaving little room for resistance.
Within moments, the majority of the group had been overwhelmed and vanquished. His combat prowess was on full display as he methodically reduced their numbers, the anger fueling his every move.
Despite his overwhelming fury, Mattheos showed a grim sense of mercy. He spared all but one of his attackers—the one who had shot the arrow that had sparked his rampage.
With the remaining enemy quivering on the ground, Matt's gaze was cold and unwavering. The contrast between his lethal efficiency and his choice of restraint was striking.
He approached the last foe with measured steps, each movement a testament to his control over the situation. The defeated enemy, paralyzed by fear, could only look up at Mattheos with wide, pleading eyes.
The sword hung menacingly by Matt's side, its blade reflecting the faint light that filtered through the trees.
Mattheos stood over the last survivor, his anger now focused solely on this individual. The silence between them was heavy, the air thick with anticipation as Matt prepared to deliver a final judgment.
"The shining blue is such a dead giveaway to your affiliation with the Legion. But why are you in Valokia, when it is so clearly under the Northern Cartel's rule?"
"Planning to fight the Viceroy for this land? So much so that you've sent the Fontaine Couple?" questioned Mattheos as he moved his blade toward the cowering archer.
"I have no clue what you are talking about… I'm only a mere archer who was told to get rid of the Syndicate within the forests of this place. I do not know anything about the Viceroy or Fontaine Couple…" pleaded the archer, as he slowly curled up in a ball.
"I find that hard to believe," replied Matt as he retracted his blade to prepare for a clean beheading.
In the shadowy depths of the dark forest, the rabbit's keen eyes detected a flash of movement—something wasn't right. Instinct took over as he twisted his body with lightning speed, narrowly dodging between ancient trees as he deflected a volley of bullets.
The dense canopy above swallowed what little light filtered through, leaving only the cold whisper of wind and the haunting creak of branches.
Every shot echoed eerily through the forest, but Matt moved like a shadow himself, his reflexes sharpened by the perilous surroundings.
"A gunslinger? Around these parts?" wondered Matt as he squinted his eyes to better see his surroundings.
"The mere archer speaks the truth. We have never been in alliance with the Fontaine Couple," spoke a deep and gruff voice, close to Matt's three o'clock.
The Sin of the Syndicate wasted no time, his blade flashing through the air in a lethal arc toward the disturbance. The strike forced the unseen intruder to spring from the shadows, landing silently behind Matt.
The tension hung thick as the figure came into focus. Matt's grip tightened on his weapon, but then he caught a glimpse of familiar eyes. The rabbit exhaled an inward sigh of relief, his fur settling as recognition dawned.
Man, this was going to be a long report back to headquarters…
"A nasty surprise, but a surprise nonetheless. I never expected you to have business with Valokia, White Rat of the Legion," greeted Mattheos as he swung his scythe around and laid it on his shoulders.
The figure in question merely grinned as he pushed back his black hood, revealing a pale, angular face with jet-black eyes that glinted with a mix of menace and confidence. His short, slicked-back hair framed a sharp jawline.
He wore a weathered leather duster, the dark fabric flowing with his every move, concealing a bandolier of gleaming bullets across his chest.