Bounty Regression

“Filo del Viento.” she whispered as she sheathed her sword, Shinkoku. ​As the remaining twenty-nine mercenaries scrambled for their weapons and started shooting all over the place without much aim, the suns seemed to fail them as it only got darker.​ "Umbral Stasis," Asumi commanded.​ As she chanted for the use of her Zyn technique, Umbrerum, the shadows cast by the rocky cliffs didn't just darken, they became physical, as if they had gained tangible form. Every mercenary found their feet fused to the ground, their shadows rising like black liquid to wrap around their throats and limbs. They were frozen statues in a gallery of gore.​ 

”Don't blink.” 

Said Tatsuchi as she skidded across the blood-slicked grass, her boots kicking up a red mist. She didn't stop. She moved like a pendulum, her blade a silver arc that harvested heads and limbs with rhythmic, terrifying efficiency.​ While Tatsuchi finished the sword-work, Zhenyu moved into the center of the fray. He clenched his fist, and the air around his arm rippled. "Anti-Gravity: Compression." He stepped into the guard of a massive mercenary, his punch landing with the force of a falling moon because the mass of his fist had been artificially amplified ten-fold upon impact. The man’s armor imploded instantly, himself included, into a fine mist no longer recognizable to the human mind. ​Beside Zhenyu, Asumi’s eyes turned pitch black. She reached out, grasping the air, and ripped the shadows clean off the remaining troops. The men collapsed, not dead, but paralyzed, their bodies unable to function without the spiritual tether of their shadow.

​Twelve minutes.​

That was all it took. Twenty-eight corpses and three more paralyzed lay scattered across the southern coast of Garudon, the grass stained a deep, permanent crimson. A single mercenary remained concious, propped up against a jagged rock. He wasn't dead, but his spine had been shattered during the initial shockwave, he was paralyzed from the waist down, staring with hollow eyes at the monsters in front of him.​ Tatsuchi flicked the blood off her blade with a sharp chime.​ “Were these goons even trying?” “They’re not even using any type of Zyn.”​ Asumi stepped over a severed arm, her shadow receding back to her feet. “The Upper Ranks really need to make the knowledge of Zyn usage more available for the lower class.”​ As the two look around at the mess, Zhenyu starts going through the bags of the fallen men for hire. Wallets, phones, and bounty posters. Rumor has it they've been spreading some sort of propaganda around the kingdom. “I’ve found the bounties and a list of names!" He gets off the ground as Asumi’s shadow grabs them away. “Let me take a look at those.” “Im captain, I think I should see who they were trying to get hunted down.” said Tatsuchi as she reached out her hand. Asumi shoved the papers toward Tatsuchi with a sharp flick of her wrist, the shadows stretching along the cracked floor like long fingers. “Here. You’re the captain,” she muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. “Figure out what this mess even means.” 

The heat lingered even after the fighting stopped. The rocky hills along Garudon’s southern coast were quiet now, save for the wind dragging itself across stone and the faint clink of bullet casings underfoot. Tatsuchi stretched her arms over her head and let out a long, satisfied breath. “…I’m starving.” Asumi glanced over, unimpressed. “You always say that after a fight.” “Because fighting burns calories,” Tatsuchi shot back. “That’s just science. ”Zhenyu wiped dust off his sleeve, eyes half-lidded. “We could head back to the capital.”

Tatsuchi groaned immediately. “Absolutely not. I am not walking all the way back to Phoenixis just to eat palace food again.” Asumi folded her arms. “And I’m not dealing with guards asking too many questions.” They stood there for a moment, the sun dipping lower, shadows stretching toward the inland roads. Zhenyu scratched the back of his neck.

“…I might know a place.”Both of them turned to him. “A place?” Tatsuchi echoed, already interested. “Yeah,” he said, nodding toward the city in the distance. “Near the outskirts of Saltmere. Cheap food, cheap drinks. And more importantly, people who talk when they shouldn’t.” Asumi’s shadow shifted. “That kind of place.” Zhenyu shrugged. “Figured we’d eat and listen.” Tatsuchi grinned. “Now that’s efficiency.” With that, they turned inland, leaving the coast behind. The last mercenary knelt in the dust, shaking, bloodied, but alive. He made a small, broken sound. A muffled whimper, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to speak. Zhenyu glanced between him and Tatsuchi. “…So. What do we do with this one?” The mercenary swallowed hard, trying to lift his head.

“P-please- I- I’m still-” Tatsuchi tilted her head, eyes narrowing, a dangerous spark flickering.“ I mean, I do have a few ideas…” “W-wait-!” the mercenary blurted, voice cracking as he tried to crawl back, hands scraping uselessly in the dust. Asumi was already on her phone. “Yes,” she said calmly. “Southern coast of Saltmere. Rocky hills. One survivor. Clean it up.” The mercenary froze. Asumi ended the call and looked at Tatsuchi. “Congratulations,” she added flatly as she clasped her hands in a clap. “You’ve had enough blood for today.” Tatsuchi clicked her tongue. “…You’re no fun.” The mercenary let out a shaky breath, if that meant he was saved, or just not worth the effort. The southern coast of Garudon fell away slowly. The rocky hills gave way to cracked roads and half-buried stone markers, the kind no one bothered to maintain anymore. The 2nd sun dipped lower, heat clinging stubbornly to the air even as shadows stretched long across the land. Tatsuchi walked ahead, hands behind her head, completely unbothered. Asumi followed in silence, her shadow dragging unnaturally across the ground. Zhenyu kept glancing back toward the coast, as if expecting trouble to chase them inland. Garudon looked different from this far out. Less noble. Less polished. By the time the city walls came into view, the streets had narrowed, lanterns replacing sunlight. The smell changed too. From salt and dust replaced by oil, smoke, and something sour that lingered in the back of the throat. The outskirts were alive in a quiet, desperate way. People who didn’t want to be seen lived here. Asumi broke the silence first. “So,” she muttered, “we’re really walking into a bar?” Tatsuchi grinned. “Information always drinks somewhere.”