No Mercy

I stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of Yakuza soldiers. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, but I felt nothing—no pity, no regret. They had brought this upon themselves. 

The remaining Yakuza soldiers were huddled together, fear etched on their faces. They were disorganized, the confidence they had once had was shattered by the sight of their comrades corpses lying around. I could see it in their eyes—the growing realization that they were going to die.

'There's nowhere left to run,' I thought, the words echoing in my mind,.

Three soldiers blocked the doorway to the next area, desperate to regroup, but there would be none. I surged forward, they screamed, fumbling for their weapons as if that could save them.

It couldn't.

The first one raised his gun, but I was faster. The spear glided through the air, slicing his neck in a single fluid motion; his head flew away before the rest of his body collapsed. The second soldier's eyes went wide, and he tried to raise his rifle, but it was too late. My spear found its mark, the point driving through his chest, the life draining from his eyes as I pulled it free.

The third tried to run—tried to escape the inevitable. A swift kick drove him into the wall, the impact echoing through the room. He fell to the ground and tried to stand back up, but he couldn't. I stood over him, Neuntote held above him, ready to strike.

"Please… I beg you…" he stammered, his voice cracking, tears streaking down his face.

I looked into his eyes—saw the terror, the desperation—and felt nothing. "You made your choice," I said. The spear descended, and the pleading stopped. 

Silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the ragged breaths that escaped my lips. I stepped over the bodies, moving through the corridor, each door opening to reveal more chaos.

The Yakuza were broken, scrambling to mount some kind of defense, but they had no chance. Some begged, but they got no sympathy from me. 'Why do people hurt others but beg when they get hurt?' I just couldn't understand.

"Get to the boss!" one of the last ones left alive shouted, voice cracking from his panic. I watched as they scattered.

At the end of the hallway, I saw him—the boss. He was retreating, backing away as the last of his soldiers moved to shield him. I could see the desperation in his eyes—he knew his time was running out.

I cut through his men with brutal efficiency. Neuntote sliced through the air, reducing them to corpses. The boss stumbled backward, his arrogance crumbling with each of his men that fell. He was not calm or collected—he was terrified.

With his guards lying dead at my feet, he turned to run, abandoning his men. His expensive shoes slipped on the blood-slick floor, his movements frantic as he ran down the hallway, hoping to escape.

I felt satisfaction at the sight—this man, who had caused so much suffering, reduced to a terrified, fleeing figure. Without hesitation, I drew back and hurled Neuntote with all my strength. The spear flew, slicing through the air. The crimson spear looked like a comet, heading for its target.

The blade found its mark, severing his leg at the knee. He collapsed with a scream, the sound echoing sharply against the walls. Clutching at the stump, he screamed, blood pouring from the wound.

"Please!" he gasped, his voice high-pitched and raw from the pain. "Please! I'll give you anything—money, power—just please...!"

He turned, his face twisted in agony, his hands trembling as they pressed against the floor, trying to push himself away from me. His eyes met mine, the realization of his imminent death hit him.

I walked toward him. I looked down at him, seeing the desperation, the fear, and felt nothing. While it might look psychotic, this guy had killed hundreds if not thousands, there was no need to feel sorry for people like this.

"You don't deserve to live," I said, my voice devoid of mercy, echoing in the empty hallway.

He tried to speak, but he couldn't. I reached down, pulling Neuntote free. He slumped forward, his body hitting the ground, life fading from his eyes. After the sound of his last breaths the hallway was quiet again.

There was no triumph for me here, no victory. He had to be stopped, and I had been the one to do it.

The armor around me began to fade, and as it dissipated, a deep exhaustion settled over me. I felt drained, the adrenaline flowing away, leaving my body heavy, and my mind utterly exhausted. I turned away, the tension in my muscles easing as the confrontation ended. There was no time to reflect on what I'd done—no time to waste. I still had a mission.

The captives and hostages. The innocent people caught in the middle of this nightmare. They needed me, and I wouldn't let them wait any longer.

I moved through the corridor with Incursio in my hand. Each step I took echoed off the walls, a steady rhythm amidst the silence of the aftermath. The hallway led me back to the main room, where the fight had started.

The cries of the hostages grew louder, echoing through the halls. I followed the sound, my heart hardening further with each sob I heard.

No more innocent people would suffer at their hands. Today, I had brought an end to their nightmare.