Overwhelming Assault

January 14 4005 4:53PM

Beside Rose, Claire stood in sheer shock, her world momentarily upended upon hearing from Liene that Marcus had embarked on a solo mission to confront Theseus and his formidable group of assassins. Meanwhile, Karra grappled with her own confusion about the perplexing situation that had unfolded before them.

The weight of the revelation settled heavily upon them as Rose, her voice quivering with shock, asked the pivotal question, "Marcus left?" Her words trembled with the magnitude of what that implied.

Rose and Claire were struck with shock, their eyes widening as they processed the weight of Liene's admission. She stood there with her head slightly lowered, her own sorrow palpable, for she had been unable to dissuade Marcus from his dangerous path.

As the realization began to sink in, Karra remained in a state of perplexity. She couldn't help but question what was unfolding before her, and who this enigmatic Marcus even was.

In the midst of it all, Light remained an enigma himself, his back against the wall, arms crossed stoically, and a heavy silence that enveloped him. He was deep in thought, and his emotionless exterior concealed the turbulent contemplations that churned beneath.

Both Marcus and Light had ventured forth with intentions of facing Theseus, albeit driven by vastly different motivations. Marcus, fueled by an unrelenting desire for revenge following Cain's murder, had embarked on this perilous quest. In stark contrast, Light's pursuit of retribution was marked by an unwavering adherence to his cardinal rule: never take a life, even amid the backdrop of past conflicts.

The weight of the situation loomed heavily in the room, leaving Liene no choice but to give voice to her frustrations with a resounding, "Idiot!" Her exclamation underscored the shared sense of despair and powerlessness that gripped everyone present.

Amidst the tumultuous atmosphere of the situation they found themselves in, Karra grappled with confusion. She scratched her chest absentmindedly, then in a hesitant attempt to comprehend the unfolding events, she cautiously approached Claire. With a subtle pinch and a slight pull of Claire's skirt, Karra sought to grab her attention. In response, Claire's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, the embarrassment overtaking her as her skirt was inadvertently lifted.

Frantically, Claire resorted to using her hands to swiftly cover her exposed thighs, her blush intensifying. Her discomfort did not go unnoticed, and Rose, with a watchful eye, observed the interaction. Despite this, Claire brushed off her friend's prying eyes, keeping her gaze trained on Karra, who had seemingly ignited the subtle yet palpable tension.

"Karra... What is it?" Claire whispered in a voice laden with both curiosity and discomfort. Her furious blush had not receded.

Karra, leaning in even closer, continued to speak in a hushed tone, her expression one of earnest inquiry. "Psst! Who's Marcus?"

Claire, with a sense of vulnerability and intimacy, responded in kind. "He's our classmate, or more specifically, our friend," she whispered back. The weight of the situation did little to quell the curiosity that stirred between them.

"Oh," Karra acknowledged softly, her words shrouded in the secretive atmosphere of the room. Despite the dire circumstances, there was room for personal conversations and glimpses of the connections they held in this small, fractured world.

Karra, while still harboring a hint of confusion about the situations they faced, distanced herself from Claire, knowing the unintentional momentary exposure had sparked discomfort between them. The weight of their predicament weighed heavily on her mind.

Light, on the other hand, stood like an unyielding pillar with his back against the wall, arms crossed, and his demeanor as enigmatic as ever. His silent presence filled the room until he finally lowered his arms and took slow, measured steps toward the group of girls, each of them wrestling with their unique emotions.

He sighed audibly before reluctantly addressing the mixed emotions that swirled around the room, a room that had once been so full of life but was now saturated with uncertainty.

"I'll regret saying this," Light began, his voice maintaining its characteristic emotionless tone, "So I'll only say this once. If any of you girls wish to risk yourselves and confront Theseus and his army, come with me. If not, stay here. I don't mind."

As he spoke, Light turned away and started to make his way through the snowy terrain that lay beyond the academy's confines. He methodically donned his fingerless gloves, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets, and then, without looking back, he ventured into the cold, leaving the group behind. His stoic demeanor did little to reveal the tumultuous thoughts that surely swirled beneath the surface.

In the world of combat and perpetual duels, Light's choice of attire stood out in stark contrast to the typical armored warriors. He often favored his signature black hoodie or occasionally a jacket, an unconventional choice for a fighter, as they provided no physical protection for his body. Even in high-stakes, life-or-death battles, where a single misstep could spell his demise, Light refrained from donning any armor, a strategic decision rooted in his relentless pursuit of maximum speed and agility.

Bulky armor was the enemy of swiftness, and Light, with a deep understanding of his own strengths and weaknesses, opted for freedom of movement to enhance his combat prowess. It was a choice that marked him as a formidable and unorthodox combatant. While he knew the consequences of such an approach could be dire, it was a risk he was willing to take.

Beneath the familiar black hoodie with its defining white hood, Light donned a pair of fingerless gloves, a thoughtful gift from Karra. These gloves served a practical purpose, shielding his hands from injury during intense duels and ensuring that his grip on his blade remained secure. His most precious companions, Everglaive – a gift from Claire – and the once-broken Metalink Blade, found their resting place in a sturdy scabbard that Light carried on his back.

Completing his outfit were non-tight brown pants and durable boots that afforded him the necessary swiftness for the chase and precision in combat. These elements together formed his distinctive and practical attire, embodying his commitment to being an agile and lightning-fast warrior.

As Light strode outside the academy, the cold winds bit at his exposed skin, and the snow-covered terrain crunched beneath his footsteps. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his hands nonchalantly tucked into his hoodie pockets. Claire, Rose, Karra, and Liene observed his departure from the vantage point of the academy, torn between the weight of uncertainty and the urgency of the moment. Each was left to contemplate whether they would follow his path or forge their own.

"I don't think there's any question here," Karra declared with a calm smile, the assurance in her words reflecting her unwavering decision. "I'm going. He's my brother, after all."

Liene's incredulous response revealed her shock at the newfound revelation of Light and Karra's relationship. "Brother?!" she exclaimed, grappling with the implications of this connection.

Claire and Rose exchanged knowing glances, understanding the intricate history between Karra and Light. Their mission was intertwined with their past and present, bearing a profound significance that only deepened the complexity of their decisions. Rose offered a somewhat nervous explanation, "It's a long story, tehee..." as she covered her mouth in both surprise and amusement.

As Claire extended her caring hand to Karra, the concern in her voice echoed her worries for Karra's well-being. She knew that Karra had been recently injured, and despite their efforts to mend her wounds, she couldn't help but fear for her friend's safety.

Karra, however, responded with a reassuring smile. She gently grasped Claire's hand for a moment, their connection signifying their bond, before releasing it. Her resolve was unwavering, and she expressed her determination. "Claire," she said, "My mind's set, besides, I'm as strong, if not stronger, than Light."

With her words spoken, Karra left Claire behind and began to follow in Light's footsteps. Her determination to join her brother in the perilous journey ahead was clear, and she moved forward with strength and purpose.

Claire couldn't help but notice the similarities between Karra and Light. Both displayed a remarkable level of determination, selflessness, and an unwavering commitment to their cause. They were cut from the same cloth, both refusing to back down and never giving up, no matter how daunting the challenges might be. It was clear that courage and resilience ran in their family.

As for Rose, she seemed to be the one to provide the positivity and spontaneity in the group. Her smile remained bright, and her decision to follow Karra and Light was made with enthusiasm and a sense of usefulness. "Welp, if I don't come," she said with a smile, "I wouldn't be any use, would I?" With that, she skipped forward to join Karra and Light, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Claire and Liene watched from the inside, their breath visible in the cold as they observed the two girls, Karra and Rose, follow Light into the snowy landscape. They understood the gravity of the situation and knew that hesitation would lead nowhere. They had witnessed Light's unwavering determination in his battles against Derek and Theseus, and they couldn't let their friends face this threat alone.

Claire made her decision without wasting a moment, determined to join their pursuit against Theseus and to provide whatever assistance she could to Marcus, despite Light's different reasoning. Liene hesitated for a brief moment, contemplating her choices. However, the haunting memory of Marcus yelling at the screen as he witnessed Cain's supposed death at the hands of Theseus was enough to make her decision. She couldn't stand by any longer. With weapons in hand, they joined the group, determined to face the bandits and Theseus, ready to fight together in this battle.

As they walked through the city, Light's instincts picked up on an unknown presence in their vicinity, an ominous feeling that something wasn't right. He felt a mysterious aura lurking nearby and couldn't ignore it.

Sensing this, Light glanced around, his gray eyes darting in all directions, scanning their surroundings for any sign of the concealed presence. Then, he swiftly raised his hand in front of the girls, a signal for them to halt.

Unbeknownst to the others, Liene, with her elven heritage, subtly reacted to Light's gesture. Her pointed ears, hidden beneath her blue hair, twitched in response, revealing her unique lineage known only to Light and Marcus.

With a stoic look on his face, Light addressed the unseen entity hiding in their midst, "Whoever is hiding, I think it's best to come out."

A mysterious voice responded, confirming that Light's keen perception had not gone unnoticed, "So you noticed? Very... perceptive."

Suddenly, emerging from the concealment of the trees, a figure gradually came into view, and the shadow gave way to reveal Derek. His malevolent smile sent shivers down Claire and Liene's spines, their eyes wide in shock. Rose and Karra exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to grasp the situation, while Light, as always, remained an emotional enigma, calmly facing Derek.

"It's been too long, Light," Derek intoned in a deliberate, slow voice.

Light responded with his usual emotionless demeanor, his voice tinged with a touch of sarcasm. "I mean, it's been less than a month, so it's quite interesting that you think it's been that long." His words carried an air of indifference, a testament to the complex history between the two.

The standoff between Light and Derek intensified, an unspoken tension palpable in the cold air. Claire and Liene, the onlookers, observed with a mix of shock and a touch of fear, knowing the destructive power Derek had unleashed upon the academy. Meanwhile, Rose and Karra remained in the dark, their confusion evident.

"Who's that?" Rose inquired, her voice laden with bewilderment.

"It's a long story," Claire whispered, her focus locked on the ongoing encounter.

Light's resolve was unwavering as he took a few steps forward, his hand inching closer to the hilt of his sword. Derek couldn't help but smirk menacingly, fully aware of Light's intentions. He taunted Light, his voice oozing with malevolence.

"You know you'll never defeat them while you hide your true skill, even you're smart enough to do that, right?" Derek's words hung heavily in the air, challenging Light to reveal his true strength. 

The girls behind Light watched in perplexity. Even Karra, despite being Light's sister, was as baffled as the rest of them, unsure of what Derek was alluding to. Light turned to glance at Claire and the others, mirroring their confused expressions before fixing his emotionless gaze on Derek.

"What is he talking about, Light?" Claire's voice held a note of confusion.

Light, still emotionless, glanced back briefly at Claire, as puzzled as the others, before returning his attention to Derek.

"Enough with the cryptic nonsense. What exactly do you want?" Light's tone was sincere as he spoke.

Derek replied in his slow, ominous voice, "To deliver a message from an anonymous sender... 'Take heed, Light, your time is running out...'"

Light stood, still emotionless, as the encounter with Derek left him with more questions than answers. He couldn't decipher the cryptic message or identify the anonymous sender. The girls watched, bewildered by the mysterious figure's appearance and even more perplexed by his unexplained exit.

Light unsheathed his sword and attempted to strike Derek, but his blade passed through empty air, leaving him bewildered and frustrated. Derek's sly smirk lingered in the air as he dissolved into a trail of gray smoke, disappearing before Light's eyes. Claire and Liene, still shocked, took tentative steps forward. Claire gently placed her hand on Light's shoulder, offering comfort as he sat on the ground. Light pulled his sword from the earth, sheathing it once again, and rose to his feet.

Without uttering a word, he began to walk forward, his determination to confront Theseus undeterred by the strange encounter with Derek. Claire followed closely, her concern for Light evident, while Karra and Rose trailed behind, their minds filled with questions and a sense of uncertainty. As they journeyed on, Claire's blush remained unnoticed by Light, but Karra couldn't help but tease her, smirking mischievously before turning her attention to their shared path.

Meanwhile, as the black scar clan, led by Theseus, navigated through the outskirts of Stracia, Theseus detected a distant presence following them – a solitary man on a motorcycle. His keen eyes spotted the figure, barely noticeable on the horizon. With a commanding demeanor, Theseus swiftly aimed his revolver, zeroing in on the pursuer, and squeezed the trigger. A shot blasted forth, hurtling towards the figure.

However, the mysterious figure proved to be more agile than anticipated, deftly swerving to the left and evading the bullet with remarkable precision. The pursuer, revealed to be Dylan, with his tousled brown hair and the hefty maul strapped to his back, accelerated his motorcycle, swiftly closing the gap between him and Theseus's convoy.

It became evident to Theseus that Dylan was relentless, driven by an unwavering determination to pursue them. Theseus, recognizing the threat Dylan posed, signaled his men with a wave of his sword and the ferocity in his eyes. He then pointed toward Dylan, who was hot on their trail, tailing their trucks with unwavering resolve.

"Men, prepare to fire!" Theseus bellowed, urgency tingeing his voice as he braced for a potential showdown with their tenacious pursuer. Tension hung in the air as the black scar clan readied themselves for the impending confrontation.

The bandits swiftly rose from their positions, prepared for the impending battle. They aimed their guns at Dylan, one after another, and unleashed a barrage of bullets, each shot echoing with a deadly intent. However, Dylan's reactions were nothing short of remarkable. With astonishing precision, he deftly steered his motorcycle, dodging the incoming bullets several times, evading death with every calculated movement.

Within the chaos, Theseus stood at the forefront, a flicker of panic and desperation crossing his features. His eyes widened in terror as he bore witness to the relentless pursuit of Dylan. Each dodged bullet only fueled the fire of determination in the relentless pursuer. A sense of dread clawed at Theseus, as he realized the gravity of his situation.

"Damn it!" Theseus muttered through gritted teeth, the weight of desperation heavy in his voice, as he grappled with the impending threat Dylan posed to his carefully laid plans. The tension was palpable as the relentless chase continued, with both sides locked in a high-stakes battle of wits and survival.

As the bandits exhausted their ammunition and reloaded their guns, Dylan carefully rose from his motorcycle. He stood tall on the wobbly seat, masterfully maintaining his balance as he prepared to face the new threat. With deliberate precision, he drew his massive hammer from his back, readying himself for what was to come.

Theseus, his eyes wide in shock, watched as Dylan, with remarkable agility and strength, leaped from his motorcycle. The bike expertly folded and closed up behind him, leaving a bewildered Theseus stumbling in his wake. With a powerful and swift strike of his hammer onto the ground, Dylan unleashed a massive shockwave. The force was so intense that it knocked back the bandits who were now reaching the city. The chaos was undeniable; some of the trucks crashed, and others simply tumbled over as they tried to regain control.

Theseus, emerging from the dust and smoke created by the shockwave, leaped from his truck with a gun in one hand and a sword in the other. He confronted Dylan, his intense gaze fixated on the determined figure who had just disrupted his meticulously laid-out plan. The bandits, while still recovering, watched in anticipation as the two stood face to face amidst the chaos. Theseus, realizing the dire situation, took command.

"Men! Leave! I'll handle this," he ordered, his voice filled with determination, ready to confront the impending threat head-on. 

The bandits, recovering from the chaos, slowly picked themselves up and regrouped. Some hurriedly climbed into their trucks, while a few chose to stay behind and bear witness to the impending battle. The tension hung heavy in the air as Theseus and Dylan, two formidable adversaries, locked eyes.

They began to circle each other, their movements purposeful and deliberate as they prepared for their impending duel. The standoff was palpable, and the rest of Theseus's men observed with bated breath.

Dylan's voice carried his burning rage as he finally spoke, "You killed my father!"

Theseus, unyielding and calm, replied in a deep, resonant tone, "Because he was weak... Like you before him."

The exchange of words and the intensity in the air set the stage for a showdown between two determined foes. With their words exchanged, both men surged forward, engaging in a furious battle.

Dylan relentlessly swung his massive maul, aiming to land devastating blows on Theseus. However, the latter displayed incredible agility, expertly dodging each of Dylan's strikes. The force behind each of Dylan's swings sent tremors through the ground, even causing his maul to crack it in places.

Undeterred, Dylan unleashed a stellar art technique called -Brick Break Crash-. With precise and consistent side blows, he aimed to strike Theseus, who continued to evade his relentless assault. The ground cracked further with each powerful hit, bearing witness to their intense battle.

Theseus recognized the opportunity amidst the chaos and broken ground. As the cracked terrain broke apart, he leaped into the air, leaving Dylan to plummet into the gaping crater below. In a swift and calculated move, Theseus produced several shimmering crystal shards from his pocket, tossing them towards Dylan. The collision of these shards created a dazzling explosion of colors, each representing different elements and overwhelming Dylan in a kaleidoscope of destruction.

"Good riddance," Theseus muttered, gazing down at the colorful smoke that enveloped the crater, presuming Dylan to be dead or gravely injured.

However, as the smoke gradually dissipated, Theseus was taken aback to find the crater empty, Dylan nowhere in sight. Confusion washed over him, and he scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of his opponent. Suddenly, he felt a presence above him and looked up, only to witness Dylan descending like a streak of lightning, his eyes burning with rage.

Without a second thought, Dylan swung his mighty maul downward, striking Theseus with incredible force and sending him crashing to the ground. Theseus hit the earth painfully, creating a small crater with the impact, as he struggled to regain his footing.

"There's no running, Theseus," Dylan declared with a voice full of rage and determination.

The biting winter wind whipped through Dylan's hair, but he remained resolute, landing gracefully and striding forward with a cold determination. His bronze locks swayed in the gusts as he advanced, an unyielding force. Theseus, on the other hand, seethed with anger, feeling desperate as he confronted Dylan's relentless pursuit.

Dylan held no mercy as he raised his maul, ready to strike down on Theseus. But Theseus, smirking as if it were part of his plan, leaped nimbly out of the way, delivering a swift kick to the back of Dylan's maul as he landed on the ground. This left Dylan vulnerable. Theseus seized the opportunity, drawing his sword with astonishing speed, and began slashing at Dylan from various angles, his movements so rapid that he appeared to be phasing and teleporting.

Dylan winced with pain as the slashing blade left wounds across his body. Vulnerable and with his hammer stuck in the ground, he waited for the right moment to strike. His eyes darted around him as Theseus seemingly teleported around, the pain of his injuries growing more intense with each slash.

Finally, the opening he sought presented itself. Just as Theseus was about to deliver another swift slash, Dylan managed to lift his maul and strike it to the side, sending Theseus reeling. Despite the numerous wounds covering his body, Dylan pressed forward, determined to confront Theseus head-on. As he approached, he noticed several small beeping devices scattered around him and his maul, their beeping growing increasingly rapid.

"Shit," Dylan muttered in desperation as he quickly comprehended the perilous predicament he was in.

As the realization dawned upon him, the devices activated with a deafening cacophony, leaving him with no avenue of escape. The explosives had been cunningly attached to his body, and he watched helplessly as they detonated. The deafening explosion sent shockwaves of force through the air, and searing flames engulfed him, leaving him with a sensation of unbearable heat.

Within the swirling inferno, the only discernible figure was Theseus, rising from the ground with a sinister smirk that conveyed a sense of satisfaction and cruelty. He didn't offer help or mercy; instead, he arrogantly turned and began to walk away, leaving Dylan to his dire fate.

Dylan's thoughts raced as he faced the fiery oblivion. A mix of emotions filled his mind: anger at his own predicament, regrets about the path that had led him here, and finally, a reluctant acceptance of his impending demise. His final words, though unspoken, echoed loudly within his own consciousness.

"Theseus..." he thought, as the flames consumed him.

Simultaneously, Marcus reached the city in solitude, only to be met with a disconcerting sight. His eyes locked onto the bandits' trucks wreaking havoc, their mounted machine guns unleashing a torrent of bullets upon the helpless city, casting a shadow of terror over the urban landscape.

Marcus took cover behind a wall, clutching his trusty scythe in his hand. He understood the gravity of the situation and had no intention of rushing headlong into battle without a strategic plan. Instead, he meticulously planned his moves, waiting patiently for the opportune moment to strike and make his presence felt amidst the overwhelming numbers of bandits.

Peering cautiously from behind the wall, Marcus gripped his scythe with both hands, his eyes fixed on the impending attack he had meticulously planned. As a truck approached, moving steadily beside the wall, Marcus seized the opportunity. He raised his scythe high and swung it with unwavering force, embedding the weapon into the back of the truck. The bandits onboard looked on in surprise and confusion as Marcus nimbly ascended the back of the moving vehicle, extracting his scythe and preparing himself for battle.

"Hey!" one of the bandits shouted.

"Who do you think you are?" yelled another.

"Someone who's about to teach you a lesson," Marcus declared with unshakable confidence.

Amidst the chaos, the bandits closed in on Marcus, armed with a bizarre assortment of weapons – swords, daggers, spears, and even some guns. But Marcus was like a whirlwind of precision, each attack parried with finesse. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the large blade of his scythe, while any close-range threats were met with swift counterattacks. Marcus's kicks, punches, and well-aimed knocks from the scythe's handle sent bandits flying off the truck one by one.

Looking down at his defeated foes, Marcus couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to the situation, quipping, "Say hi to the ground for me, will ya?"

Amid the chaos, two more trucks closed in on Marcus from the sides, and three more followed behind. Bullets riddled the air around him, but Marcus wasn't one to be easily pinned down. He danced between the crates in the back of the truck, using them as shields against the onslaught of elemental shards.

An explosive, kaleidoscopic display ensued as the elemental shards collided with the crates, causing a brilliant spectacle. Chaos and color filled the air, with crates disintegrating and colors swirling around.

Sensing an opportunity, Marcus sprang into action, leaping toward one of the trailing trucks. His scythe met the truck's front end, and with his face pressed up against the windshield, he quipped, "Why hello there," as the windshield wiper amusingly swiped his face. It was a moment of levity amidst the turmoil of battle.

The bandit seated next to the driver panicked, taking out his gun and wildly firing shots in Marcus's direction. Bullets whizzed through the air, puncturing the windshield with multiple holes. Marcus narrowly dodged each of them and glanced over at the bandits in the front seats.

"Watch your shots!" yelled the concerned bandit who was driving the truck, clearly alarmed by the reckless gunfire.

The truck, driven by the panicked bandit, veered wildly along the road, jostling Marcus as he clung to the front. The truck's path was erratic, causing Marcus to swing around unpredictably. The driver's vision was obstructed by Marcus, and he reacted abruptly to the shooting from his companion. His reckless steering only added to the chaos.

"Quite a rude welcome!" Marcus shouted with a touch of satire, trying to maintain his grip on the truck.

The bandits at the back of the truck unleashed a hail of bullets towards Marcus, prompting him to swiftly disengage his scythe from the truck's front. With a graceful flip, he landed right in the midst of the bandits who had attempted to shoot him. Spinning his scythe with calculated precision, he sent the bandits tumbling off the truck.

However, as Marcus tried to regain his composure, he found himself under a relentless barrage of elemental bullets. The trucks beside and in front of him fired a continuous stream of shots. He narrowly dodged these incoming attacks, while simultaneously parrying the attempts of the bandits who leaped from the adjacent trucks to board the one he was on.

"Nice seeing ya'll," Marcus quipped, his voice revealing a touch of nervousness in the face of this perilous situation.

The overwhelming number of bandits leaping toward Marcus from the adjacent trucks began to take its toll. Marcus found himself in a difficult spot, dodging and blocking their relentless attacks.

Just as it appeared Marcus might be overwhelmed, he opened his eyes to find a sudden burst of assistance from Isaac. With astounding speed, Isaac created a fast shockwave-like effect that knocked every single one of the approaching bandits off the truck.

"Good job, kid," Isaac calmly commended, his voice in stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded.

The bandits surrounding them unleashed a barrage of magic shards, creating a dazzling display of colorful bullets that streaked through the air. But Isaac's prowess was on full display as he effortlessly deflected each shard with his weapon, moving with the grace of a seasoned warrior. He leaped from truck to truck, a whirlwind of motion, systematically knocking out the bandits operating the machine guns. Marcus watched in awe as Isaac's skills turned the tide of the battle.

As Marcus shook off his amazement, he knew it was time to act. With determination in his eyes, he sprang toward the car door, catching the driver and the bandits beside him off guard.

"Shit! Not you again!" the bandit driver cursed, panic in his voice.

With a wry smile, Marcus replied, "Hello, nice to see you again," as he prepared to face the bandits head-on.

The bandit beside the driver pulled out his gun, but Marcus swiftly disarmed him with a well-placed kick, knocking the weapon from his grasp. In one fluid motion, he landed another kick on the bandit's face, sending him tumbling off the truck.

Sitting in the driver's seat, Marcus was overwhelmed by the array of levers, buttons, and pedals that comprised the complicated machinery. Panic set in as he frantically scanned the controls.

"I forgot to ask them how to drive!" Marcus yelled, his voice laced with desperation.

In his frenzied state, Marcus attempted to steer the truck, but his movements were erratic. The vehicle careened into objects, poles, and even other Scars, accidentally causing two neighboring trucks to crash into poles as well.

"Ah! How do I steer this thing?" Marcus shouted in confusion.

As he focused on the road ahead, he saw a crossroad through the windshield. Pedestrians were crossing the street, and they soon noticed a rogue truck hurtling toward them at an alarming speed. They covered their faces with their arms, unable to react in time. Marcus's heart raced as he struggled to regain control.

The truck inched closer to the pedestrians, and a demi-human girl stood frozen, unable to move. Marcus steered with all his might, his leg bracing against the driver's seat. Just when it seemed that disaster was inevitable, he managed to veer the truck to the side, narrowly avoiding the pedestrians and instead crashing into a nearby building. It was a close call, and relief swept through the bystanders.

The force of the crash knocked Marcus unconscious in the driver's seat. Inside the other trucks, the bandits believed him to be dead after witnessing the wreck.

"Enemy eliminated..." one of the bandits announced.

Theseus, observing from a distance, stood with a sinister presence, listening to the announcement about the elimination of an enemy.

"Great, then we proceed with the plan..." Theseus muttered with a malevolent tone in his voice.