The hitlist.

In the distant horizon, atop an elevated platform, two men were attired in moderately dark suits, their hands gripping a pair of binoculars as they gazed intently into the distance, spectating the unfolding events in a particular area.

"Never did we anticipate the swift involvement of the beast hunters, and their apparent strength is quite unexpected," one of them pondered aloud.

"Preserving the safety of the young lad is not our responsibility. We are but following the directives handed down by our superior, intervening only when the appropriate moment arises," the other promptly responded.

A prolonged silence hung in the air before the first individual ventured to speak again. "However, one must consider the paramount importance of this mission; he stands as the very cornerstone of our intricate plan. Should he meet an untimely end without us gathering any intelligence, can you fathom the repercussions our overseer would impose?" he inquired.

"Our duty merely entails monitoring his movements, and nothing more. The fate of the young boy lies beyond our purview. Besides, wouldn't you prefer to depart this grimy city at your earliest convenience?" the second speaker suggested.

"I would much rather stay here than return to Roy bearing dismal news, and you can be certain of that," he concluded.

The other individual released a weary sigh, expressing their reluctance. "We won't be intervening, and furthermore, I hold the belief that the young lad won't meet his demise," they asserted, a somber tone present in their words. "At least, not in the immediate future," they appended.

A profound hush settled in their midst as they returned to their role as mere spectators, maintaining a considerable distance that shielded them from any prying eyes.

---

Meanwhile, the confrontation involving the two beast hunters and Maxwell against the formidable creature remained in a state of suspension. For reasons unbeknownst to them, the combatants had regressed to the building's entrance, where they stood alongside a youth with a pallor akin to one who had endured a prolonged sojourn within a refrigerated enclosure.

In a peculiar turn of events, they found themselves thankful for the abrupt cessation of hostilities, as exhaustion had enveloped them, necessitating a respite.

Most profoundly fatigued among them stood Silver, her reservoir of energy entirely depleted, and the borrowed vitality ebbing away at a gradual pace. In this moment of dire need, rest was her utmost requirement. She bent forward, her sword employed as a crutch to sustain her upright stance, and commenced inhaling the ambient atmosphere with deliberate intent.

Dart, thoroughly fatigued, found himself in a state of exhaustion, although not nearly as depleted as Silver, who struggled to maintain an upright posture while seeking respite. The last combatant to have engaged in the fight was Maxwell. Even in the midst of the battle, it felt as though he wasn't the one fighting; rather, it was as if the weapon itself had melded seamlessly with his hand.

Just as they collectively endeavored to reclaim as much of their breath as possible, the creature they faced wasn't any less formidable. Clutched within Rocky's grasp was a lifeless body, and without the necessity of issuing any explicit commands, they commenced rending the body asunder. Simultaneously, they replenished their energy reserves and grew in size, ultimately surpassing their previous dimensions.

Observing this development, Dart was gripped by panic, fully aware of the impending consequences. He was on the verge of taking action when an intervening hand appeared before him. It was Maxwell, who had inexplicably materialized right in front of him.

Dart couldn't even discern when Maxwell had sprinted to his side. In that fleeting moment, all he could do was cast a quick glance at the brass knuckles adorning Maxwell's hand.

"Though we've reached tier five, I wonder what its active skills entail," Dart pondered.

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Meanwhile, Maxwell's penetrating gaze remained locked on Rocky, who returned his intense stare with dark, unfaltering eyes rimmed with a crimson hue. There was no need for Maxwell to be explicitly informed; those eyes were an unmistakable telltale sign. It was evident that Rocky harbored no intention of concealing his malevolent deeds from the outset.

"Why," Maxwell began, his voice tinged with both confusion and frustration, "why do you persist in wreaking havoc when I once granted you leniency? Why do you continue to sow chaos?" He extended his hand, seeking answers.

Maxwell was acutely aware that their quarry stood before them, and their primary objective was to apprehend him. However, before taking any action, Maxwell yearned to fathom the motive behind Rocky's relentless spree of violence, particularly towards his own family. It was a perplexing enigma that confounded him.

"You," Rocky retorted, his voice echoing as though two souls were simultaneously articulating the same words.

"It's your fault," he vehemently declared, his outburst resonating through the tense air. "You, officer, are to blame for the state I find myself in now. Take a long, hard look at me. Do I bear any resemblance to the person you once knew? Are my eyes the same as they were then?" Rocky's voice boomed as he challenged Maxwell. "Of course not."

Rocky, his voice quivering under the weight of his confession, began, "I found myself transformed by someone, and the process remains etched in my memory as an excruciating ordeal. Even now, as we speak, I can sense the torment coursing through my entire being," he shared with Maxwell.

Maxwell, his concern evident in his words, extended a compassionate offer, saying, "If you'd permit, we are here to extend our assistance. Your current path is fraught with harm, and can't you perceive the pain you're inflicting upon others?" he implored.

Two fundamental truths had become undeniably apparent to Maxwell. It was clear that whatever transformative experience Rocky had endured occurred subsequent to his release. Maxwell didn't dwell on the identity of the culprit or the specifics of the transformation; his sole aim was to halt this suffering.

In that very moment, Rocky burst into a fit of chilling laughter, his gaze fixed firmly on Maxwell. "Pain...help me...first and foremost, I have no need for your aid. Furthermore, my intent is precisely to make others suffer as I have," Rocky declared with a cold determination.

"I aspire to bestow upon the entire world the same agonizing torment that I've endured and continue to endure. In fact, I've meticulously assembled a list of individuals I wish to subject to this unbearable suffering, just as I have. Astonishingly, you and your entire police department find yourselves on that list," Rocky stated, a malevolent grin spreading across his face as he turned to regard Dart, who stood beside Maxwell.

"I don't have any knowledge about your identities, but if you obstruct my path, I will certainly include you in that list," he declared.

Dart firmly pushed Maxwell's hand away from him and took a step forward. "It seems reasoning with him is futile. Why not resort to compelling some rationality?" he suggested, placing his substantial axe before him.

"Sliver, unleash the full extent of your arsenal!" Dart exclaimed.

By this point, Silver had taken a brief respite to prepare for the battle. When she heard Dart's command, a smile graced her lips.

"Indeed... I possess a plethora of abilities," she murmured. In that instant, numerous glimmers appeared on her fingers, and the light rekindled on her visage. From her fingertip, a shadowy metallic substance began to spread, ascending from her finger to her shoulder and then descending to cover her chest, evolving into a backplate that extended into a sleek, blade-like wing.

Simultaneously, the mutated creatures beside Rocky readied themselves to attack. "Annihilate them all!" Rocky bellowed, pointing directly at Maxwell.

The three beasts launched themselves with all their might at their respective opponents.

*****

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