The rain drummed with harmony against the cracked asphalt of the ruined cityscape. Neon signs flickered, barely clinging to life, casting eerie glows across the corpses of fallen protagonists and nameless background characters. Smoke rose from burning vehicles, the remnants of a battlefield that had long since faded into silence except for the distant echo of a sniper shot, precise and cold.
Atop a crumbling skyscraper, Yara stood, her black, lifeless eyes staring down at the chaos she had left behind. Her gloved hands reloaded her sniper rifle with mechanical precision, her movements devoid of hesitation. She exhaled slowly, lining up her next shot through the scope. The crosshairs settled on a new target.
A man stood in the middle of the street, unfazed by the destruction around him. His stance was relaxed, yet firm, the long sword strapped to his back shifting slightly as he adjusted his weight. His rugged face was marked with battle scars, his brown hair tied loosely, a thick beard covering his jawline. Tattoos ran along his forearms, swirling Celtic patterns that seemed to pulse under the dim light. His boots splashed in the puddles as he took a slow step forward.
Yara's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Woah there, lass." the man spoke, his voice carrying a thick Scottish accent. His tone was calm, almost amused. "I'd rather not have a hole through me head before we even say hello, aye?"
Yara did not respond. She never did. Not anymore.
Her rifle remained steady, the scope trained on his head. She had heard false pleas before, manipulative words meant to stall her. Yet, this man… he wasn't afraid. There was no hint of desperation in his voice.
He raised his hands slightly, not in surrender, but as if to show he meant no harm. "The name's Angus Rory. Might not look it, but I ain't here to fight ye. I know what ye've been doing, and I ain't lookin' to stop ye either." His eyes, a deep, piercing green, studied her. "I only came to offer ye a choice."
Yara remained still, but she did not pull the trigger.
Angus took that as a sign to continue. "There's a place, hidden from the eyes of the main story. A sanctuary. Side characters, background folk, even villains tired of the bloodshed… they've found refuge there. Away from this madness."
A slight gust of wind blew through the ruined street. Yara's coat fluttered slightly, her expression unchanging.
"We ain't part of the grand narrative anymore, lass. This world's a bloody mess of manhwas, mangas, and donghuas all stitched together into some grotesque abomination. The Narrator? It's playin' god, and everyone else is either fightin' or dyin' for a story that ain't theirs." He sighed, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. "But not everyone wants to play the game. Some of us just want to exist, to live without bein' pieces on some bastard's chessboard."
Yara tilted her head slightly, her sniper still aimed at his head.
He chuckled. "I can tell ye don't believe me. That's fair. But I ain't askin' ye to trust me. Just to see for yourself lass."
He reached into his coat pocket, moving slowly to ensure she didn't perceive it as a threat. From within, he pulled a small, folded map. He tossed it onto the wet ground between them. "That is the location of the base. Underground, hidden beneath the ruins of what used to be a printing press. Fitting, aye???" His smirk was laced with irony.
Silence stretched between them. The only sound was the distant crackling of fire and the occasional collapse of a weakened building.
Then, Yara moved.
She lowered her sniper rifle, slinging it onto her back. Without a word, she stepped forward, her boots splashing through the puddles as she reached down and picked up the map. She glanced at it briefly before stuffing it into her pocket.
Angus exhaled, finally relaxing his shoulders. "Didn't think that'd work, to be honest. Thought I was about to get me head blown off." He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Guess we're off to a good start."
Yara had already turned away, her attention shifting elsewhere.
Angus tilted his head. "Ye really don't talk, do ye?"
No response.
He sighed, resting his sword against his shoulder. "Right, then. Let's get movin'. The place ain't far, but it's best if we don't draw attention. Lotta bastards out here wouldn't take kindly to a sniper and a swordsman walkin' together."
As they walked, Angus stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. He had heard the rumors about the sniper known as Nightmare Zero. About the black-eyed girl who never spoke, who executed both heroes and villains alike with no hesitation. He had expected something different. Someone monstrous, emotionless.
But looking at her now, he saw the truth.
She wasn't a monster.
She was just… broken.
A no.. The Main product of this cruel, stitched-together world.
He looked ahead. "Ye ever wonder what it'd be like… if we weren't just characters in someone else's story?" He muttered, almost to himself. "If we had our own say in how things played out?"
Yara gave no reaction.
Angus smiled bitterly. "Aye. Figures."
The city stretched before them, a twisted landscape of overlapping stories and shattered worlds. The underground base awaited, and with it, whatever fate the remnants of side characters had carved out for themselves.
As they vanished into the shadows of the ruined city, the echoes of another sniper shot rang out in the distance.
End of Chapter, See you all soon. Watchers.