Murderous Hunter

[ Universal Hunters are built to embody invincibility. But to truly wield that power, you must confront death head-on, stare it down, and choose to live. ]

"So, I have to continue this sort of training?" Isaac's voice held a mix of resignation and curiosity as he redirected his gaze towards Mr. Ritchie, who affirmed the question with a nod. "And I'll die every single time?" Issac's inquiry followed. "Only until you win." Mr. Ritchie's response was swift. Isaac's exhale carried a sense of helplessness, his eyelids shutting as if to block out the reality. "I don't know why you said I have it better than the other universal hunters." Isaac muttered under his breath, his words tinged with mild frustration, and Mr. Ritchie tilted his head to look at him. Issac continued, "Clearly, I have the worst training method."

"I've seen worse," Mr. Ritchie's statement hung in the air as he walked, leaving Isaac curious about its implications. Moments later, Mr. Ritchie paused, pivoting on his heel to face Isaac once more. "They train in real life."

"Ugh…" Issac groaned as he rose from the ground, brushing off dirt from his knees and patting down his legs. "Hold on a second, Mr. Ritchie…" He inquired, his gaze fixed on Mr. Ritchie's departing figure. "Where are you headed?"

"Where?" Mr. Ritchie extended his arm, pointing toward the door. "Out there. You're on your feet now, aren't you? It's time to resume the simulation."

"W-Wai- Wait! What do you mean by 'resume the simulation'?" Issac's asked, his face registering a mix of confusion and anxiety. "Didn't you see me get murdered by the world's most powerful hunter? And now you want me to go through all of that again? Right now?"

"First," Mr. Ritchie turned around and lifted his hand, gesturing toward the air. "Remember, you actually get murdered. This was all part of a simulation. You'll never die."

Issac gulped down his saliva, his anxiety growing as Mr. Ritchie continued. "Second… As I mentioned earlier, this is the kind of training that a universal hunter undergoes. Your goal is to become the best of the best, and for that you have to endure the worst of the worst."

"And third," Mr. Ritchie interjected, his pause adding weight to his words, "You don't have much of a choice."

"You didn't have to say that last part, you know.." A faint sigh escaped Issac's lips, his tone a mumble that was barely above a whisper. Mr. Ritchie ignored his comments and pushed the door open, its creaking hinges resonating in the room as he exited. His departing words echoed within the room. "Pick up the goggles and put them back on."

Issac let out a sigh before directing his gaze towards the goggles. Lifting them from the surface, he held them in his hands, his expression revealing hesitance. Seconds stretched out as he stared at the object before him. Summoning a deep breath, he consciously steadied his nerves, after which he put on the goggles, and Mr. Ritchie's voice entered his ear. "Here we go. Round 2!"

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Emmelmond, Soviet Germany.

BAM!

A deafening roar echoed through the apartment complex, the surroundings shaking in response, as though the very ground itself trembled.

"What the hell?" The watcher muttered as he placed his hand on the key, already inserted into the ignition port and ready to be turned on.

The watcher's role was singular: to survey and trace assigned targets as directed by their superiors. Details beyond the task at hand were of no concern, and queries were left unasked. The watcher didn't let curiosity influence them. Their role was straightforward, and anything beyond those limits didn't matter. To him, this was purely business, nothing more and nothing less.

But right now, in the midst of the trembling earth beneath his car, the watcher found himself questioning the identity of the figure he was tailing. 'Who could they possibly be battling inside that building?' The question lingered in his mind, despite his awareness that such thoughts were detrimental to his role.

BAM!

A resounding crash reverberated through the building, and from above, a figure plummeted through the floors of the apartment complex, hurtling downwards with incredible speed until they collided with the ground floor. The impact that resulted was jolting, sending a whirlwind of dirt and debris spiraling into the air, a chaotic aftermath of the sudden collision.

"Ugh…" Silver Fox, who was the one who had crash landed onto the floor, gradually rose from the newly-formed crater on the apartment complex floor. While she concentrated on regaining her balance, another presence descended from above. This new figure appeared to glide through the air, their descent graceful and effortless.

"After all the research and experiments that they did, and yet they still couldn't replicate what I possessed.." The newly arrived figure remarked. With long jet black hair tied behind his head, striking green eyes, and dressed in a red shirt and black pants, he was a young man of distinct appearance.

Suspended above the ground, the man glided with deliberate ease toward Silver Fox, who faced away from him, her breath ragged.

"It's a shame though," he mused, a subtle smile gracing his features. "Because it seems like you've got potential."

WHOOSH!

Without hesitation, Silver Fox whirled around, her fist ablaze with bright blue flames that burst with the scorching intensity of the sun. With precision, she directed her punch towards the man in red's midsection. But this calculated strike found itself evading its mark as the man expertly flipped through the air, narrowly escaping the powerful attack.

BOOM!

However, Silver Fox wasn't done. Swiftly altering her attack's trajectory, she thrust her hand upward, targeting the still-hovering man in red. The ensuing detonation was spectacular, as an eruption of blue flames erupted at lightspeed and engulfed the entire apartment in the process. The resulting explosion shook the surroundings.

"That was a much better attack!" the man in red remarked approvingly, as he materialized beside Silver Fox in an instant. Before she could make a move, he instantly bent his knees, which was covered by a shroud of dark lightning, forming an impromptu armor around his legs, and struck Silver Fox's thighs with precision, which propelled her sideways. Her body flipped through the air before she crashed through the apartment walls, finally landing outside in the snow-covered ground.

"Guh…" Struggling to regain her breath, Silver Fox coughed violently, spitting out a spatter of blood. The man in red reappeared at her side, his gaze tinged with a sense of pity. "Look at you," he said, his tone layered with a mixture of sympathy and condescension. "Fighting someone who's far stronger than you in every possible way.. And yet, have no clue why you're even doing what you're doing."

A heavy sigh escaped him as he knelt by her side. Silver Fox's eyes shifted towards him, but she was incapacitated by the whole ordeal. With a measured gesture, the man stretched his hand forward, placing a finger on her chest. But before he did anything, he shook his head, and a resigned expression clouded his features. "Not today," he muttered, withdrawing his hand. "Today's a good day, and so, I'm letting you live."

Rising to his feet, he drew in a deep breath, as a smile of contentment formed on his lips. "Oh, the luxury of caring about my own emotions," he voiced his thoughts aloud, a sense of satisfaction infusing his tone. "It's actually quite liberating, you know? You should try that sometime."

"Shit," the watcher muttered under his breath as he spotted the two hunters outside the apartment building. His hand hovered over the radio, fingertips almost brushing the transceiver, and yet he hesitated.

His mandate didn't encompass soliciting aid or intervening in the operation. He was a watcher, tasked solely with observation and tracking. That was the principle drilled into him. 'It's just part of the job,' he silently repeated, a reluctant acknowledgment in his mind. With a resigned exhale, he withdrew his hand from the radio, acquiescing to the boundaries of his role.

"That's a shame." All of a sudden, an unknown voice entered his ear, causing him to turn around. To his astonishment, the man in red sat casually in the backseat with a smile on his face.

When did he get inside? The watcher was both afraid and intrigued. He didn't even hear the man enter the vehicle.

"I have to say that you're an excellent watcher," the man in red continued, his demeanor composed. "Your superiors will surely hold you in high regard." His voice trailed off, a momentary pause hanging in the air. "However.."

Clack!

One could only hear a faint snap that resembled the breaking of a twig, followed by an eerie stillness. The car's window was abruptly adorned with blood, and the watcher's lifeless body slouched in the driver's seat, his head absent, and fragments of his brain were splattered across the seats and windows.

Unfazed by the carnage, the man in red remained in the backseat, uncovered in bloodstains. He released a sigh, then retrieved the observer's coffee flask, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Taking a deliberate sip, he murmured, "Should've gone for the call."