c3: Hunters in the Jungle
"Two damn brats, they should've just died instead of causing trouble for me..." a pirate grumbled, hacking away at the undergrowth with his cutlass.
As he turned his head, a gleam of light cut through the darkness.
"Clang!"
The pirate instinctively raised his blade, deflecting the incoming arrow. His lips curled into a sneer.
"There!" He pointed toward a shadowy patch between the trees, his voice carrying through the dense foliage. Without hesitation, he charged forward, the three other pirates close behind.
They shoved aside the tangled grass, revealing a crude bow mounted on a makeshift stand. A tripwire mechanism sat behind it, designed to fire when triggered.
"Damn it! We've been tricked!" the lead pirate snarled, his muscles tensing. His eyes darted around, scanning for movement.
The remaining three pirates instinctively pressed their backs together, eyes flicking through the darkness.
Just when they started to relax, the earth beneath the bow twitched something was hiding there.
Two piercing eyes gleamed through the camouflage of dried leaves.
Shff!
A shadow lunged. A dagger flashed through the air, slicing into the throat of the last pirate. The steel punched through his windpipe, the tip of the blade protruding from the other side.
"Gurgle "
The pirate's fingers clawed at his throat, desperate to stop the blood surging from the wound. His body convulsed, his machete slipping from his grasp with a metallic clatter.
"Tch."
Green withdrew the blade without hesitation, stepping back into the cover of the dense jungle.
The remaining three pirates spun around just as their comrade's lifeless body hit the ground with a dull thud.
"They got Hume!"
The vice-captain of the pirate crew gritted his teeth. He had never imagined that a couple of kids just two damn brats could eliminate so many of their men.
For the first time, doubt seeped into his heart.
"Back-to-back formation!" he barked. "They're only dangerous when they can strike from the shadows! Face them head-on, and they're nothing!"
His voice carried a sliver of forced confidence. Deep down, he was shaken.
The two remaining rookies glanced nervously at each other, sweat dripping down their temples.
"Vice-captain..." one of them swallowed hard. "W-Who the hell are these kids?"
The vice-captain's lips curled into a scowl. "Hmph, it doesn't matter. When the captain gets here, they're dead"
Shff!
A bloodstained spear shot out from the undergrowth, piercing the thigh of one of the newcomers.
"Aghhh!"
The force of the strike sent him toppling backward. The spear tip snapped off inside his leg with a sickening crack.
Green melted back into the jungle, vanishing before anyone could react.
Panic exploded among the pirates. One of the rookies lost it completely.
"No no! I'm not staying here!" He turned and bolted.
"Idiot, get back here!" the vice-captain roared.
But it was too late.
The rookie's frantic screams echoed through the forest until they were cut off abruptly.
Silence.
A cold shiver ran down the vice-captain's spine.
"Damn it!" He turned on his heel and sprinted for the treeline, abandoning the wounded pirate without hesitation.
"W-Wait! Vice-captain don't leave me!" The injured rookie clutched his bleeding leg, watching in horror as the man vanished into the shadows.
A figure emerged from the undergrowth behind him.
A glint of steel.
"Schlk!"
The machete slid cleanly through his back, the tip bursting through his chest. His body twitched once then went still.
The moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the face of the attacker.
House.
His breathing was steady, his grip firm.
A part of him expected to feel disgusted. Expected to feel guilt.
He felt nothing.
That terrified him.
Was this what it meant to be a killer?
His thoughts were interrupted by movement ahead.
Green.
He had already set off, pursuing the last pirate.
House swallowed hard and followed.
By the time he reached the edge of the forest, the last pirate's body was already slumped against a tree, a clean slash across his throat.
The technique was quick. Precise.
House shuddered.
"We need to leave." Green's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of urgency. "Once they realize their men are missing, they'll send out a search party. We won't stand a chance against real pirates."
Before House could reply
"Hahahahaha!"
A deep, guttural laugh erupted from above.
The boys froze.
Someone had been watching them.
"Not bad, not bad. Two brats took out most of my crew. I gotta say, I'm impressed."
House and Green snapped their heads upward.
A figure perched on the thick branch of a towering tree, arms crossed over his broad chest.
A towering man with a crisscrossed scar across his face. His bare upper body rippled with muscle, his skin streaked with old battle wounds. A tattered gray cloak hung over his shoulders, flapping gently in the night breeze.
His eyes burned with amusement.
Green's gut twisted. This man was dangerous.
"Who the hell are you?!" House demanded, raising his stolen cutlass.
The man smirked, then leaped from the five-meter-high branch, landing with a heavy thud.
He dusted off his pants.
"Hahahaha! Ain't it obvious?" His grin widened, teeth flashing under the moonlight. "I'm the captain of the Iron Fist Pirates—Iron Fist Maren. Heard of me?"
Green's heart pounded.
A pirate captain.
House tightened his grip on his weapon, sweat trickling down his brow.
"Heh, what's wrong? Shaking already?" Maren chuckled. "Don't worry I like you brats. You've got guts."
His gaze darkened.
"But don't get cocky. You're still just rats playing in the dark."
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