Albert was visibly cringed at the man, Ren, for his outlandish and childish introduction, though he was intrigued by it all the same. After all, the man did seemingly "swim" out of a hard surface as if it were permeable—a strange but oddly useful ability, no doubt.
Riko was already on the floor crying with laughter, as if he'd already forgotten the earlier tension.
"This again?! Ren, can you stop being embarrassing whenever there's newcomers for once!!!?" Seracore scolded, his face flushing red from embarrassment, as did Kiera's.
"Hey! It's not my fault I'm not gloomy and boring like the rest of y'all," Ren argued back, his voice so eccentric and loud it almost annoyed Albert.
Ren turned to see Albert and Riko. Taking off his swimming goggles revealed bright green eyes scanning the duo before speaking: "Nice to meet ya, newbies! I'm Ren, the winner of the global swimming sports two years ago! I bet you know me, right? As you saw from my awesome entrance, I have the Mark of the Swimmer, granting me the power to swim through anything—liquid or solid! It doesn't matter! Hahaha!"
Albert was almost shocked by Ren's comical entrance. He hadn't heard a thing about him but chose not to say so as to not be rude. His eyes stared daggers into Ren, full of judgment as he cringed internally. *This… this guy is a mercenary that kills criminals??? I suddenly want to leave,* he thought while gagging.
Riko's reaction was the opposite. "Wow, so you're a pro swimmer, huh! Awesome!! Can you show me a trick?" he asked, his voice nonchalant and calm but noticeably intrigued and slightly excited at the same time.
Ren was fired up as his eyes lit up; he looked as if he had a thousand things to say. But before he could start, a voice interrupted from behind, "I don't think anyone cares, Ren."
The group looked behind to see Maddeline walking up to them, chewing food in her mouth while holding a half-bitten burger in her right hand. Kiera's face lit up as she ran to hug Maddeline.
"Hey, Kie. Hope that jerk Seracore isn't annoying you," Maddeline said as she patted Kiera's head as if she were a child.
Seracore began to sweat bullets and looked at Riko and Albert, his eyes pleading them not to mention their earlier fight.
"Maddeline? I was wondering where you ran off to after the selection," Riko said.
She paused to note to herself that Riko seemed to be back to his senses, yet she chose to remain cautious. He may very well have been the most dangerous person in that room at that moment.
"What do you need? I'm sure you didn't come here just to welcome us," Albert asked, his voice turning stern as his expression focused, as if still not trusting Maddeline after her reveal as a plant from the organization. He couldn't help but think every time she spoke to them, even in a casual manner, it meant the higher-ups wanted something from them.
"Good to see you too, Al. I need all of the available lower ranks here ASAP; it's important. Where's blowhead?" she replied, getting straight to the point.
"You mean Jetore? I saw him go to that hall over there; I'll go get him," Riko said.
Albert put his hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't seem to want to talk to you right now; I should go instead," said Albert as he walked past.
*In a large, modern fortress housing a casino and a giant auction hall to the south of Neran city*
A gorgeous woman sat at a clean table. She wore a red sweatshirt that reflected her scarlet, blood-colored long hair, which was joined by a passion mark on the nape of her neck, covered by her hair; it displayed a symbol of a love heart bound by chains. The woman's beautiful looks were contrasted by her cursed smile that would scream evil even to a toddler.
She gently looked over a briefcase filled to the brim with cash, occupying the entire volume of the hollow case. "Thank you for the generous offer, Dr. Boronso. Always a pleasure to do business with a member of the Shadow Wounds group," said the red-haired woman.
She looked up to meet the gaze of the one she spoke to—a man who wore a black undershirt and pants, adorned in a pale lab coat with the words "ignorant=rat" written on the back. He wore a peculiar black mask with red eye slits and a beak-like design reaching down to his nose below his eyes where the mask ended, shrouding his identity, as well as a black top hat.
"Don't worry about it, Miss Laticia. After all, I'm always eager for new lab rats to test my hypothesis for my experiments. And just look at the item you've provided me—haha! She'll be excellent," the man, Dr. Boronso, said with a terrifying grin as he looked down to see a kneeling woman in ragged clothes, wearing an iron collar on her neck with attached chains that were held by him. She didn't resist nor speak; she drew breath, but her eyes were lifeless.
As he turned, he pulled the woman—or his "lab rat," as he called her—roughly as they began to leave. Suddenly, Laticia clicked her fingers. Two of the guards in the room pulled out pistols aimed toward Dr. Boronso. Before they could shoot, he jumped and blitzed past them as he pulled out a scalpel—a medical instrument used in surgeries to cut through flesh and make incisions.
"Thyrodal Decapitation," he said, naming his technique as he flashed past the two shooters, slashing their throats in an instant. The two men fell lifeless to the floor in a second.
One of the men in suits behind Laticia struggled to breathe from the shock of what he witnessed. "So… this… i-is the former surgeon… Dr. Boronso! He was renowned for his talent and part in saving many lives but was ultimately exiled from the medical community with his license revoked for his inhumane experiments and undocumented surgeries. To think he's such… such a monster, no—" the man was interrupted by Laticia.
"Silence! No one asked you. If you don't want to end up like those two, you'll keep your mouth shut, got it," she said, her earlier elegant facade shifting into something more tyrannical before smirking like a devil at Boronso.
"Laticia, the Witch of Chains—I usually don't speak so rudely to beautiful young ladies like you, but… I recommend not trying to mess with me or any of the Shadow Wounds… do you hear me, you bitch?!" Dr. Boronso yelled, his tone sounding more and more aggressive with each pause.
"Oh yes, I apologize for my boldness, but you should take it as a compliment that I'm after you; you would've made a fine servant with your abilities," Laticia said, licking her lips, still not afraid.
"The only reason neither I, nor the rest of my comrades, haven't disposed of you yet is because of the value of the abilities granted by your passion mark; your business is very beneficial. The power to enslave the wills of others is a dream come true," Boronso admitted, slowly wiping the blood from his scalpel with a cloth.
"Keep talking and—Oh! You'll make me blush," Laticia said in a seductive tone, though it made Boronso chuckle at best; it was obviously part of her many masks.
"One more thing—I was told to warn you about the Marked Mercenaries. My boss has reason to believe they may be planning an assault on the day of the Red Auction," said Dr. Boronso as he left, pulling the woman bound by chains and a collar behind him.
The man behind Laticia grew anxious. "Mistress! We must leave at once! For you, they'll no doubt send a Crimson Stain or two; in that outcome, we'll be finished and our business will fall!" he yelled, urging Laticia.
She looked at him as if he was already dead, her voice twisting into hatred and rage. "Shut up! It's MY business, not ours—and that goes for the rest of you. You're my playthings; remember that! And I was hoping for this outcome; it'll give me a chance to get revenge on that Kran for ruining my life! AHAHAHAHA—come at me, then! I'll make you all my slaves!" she shouted before breaking into psychotic laughter.
*Back in the underground plaza and base of the Marked Mercenaries, below the city*
Jetore paced through the halls, his anger and frustration growing to a boiling point in his head as the images of Riko fighting continued to repeat. Below the jealousy at Riko's strength was shame—shame for his failure and regret for something that almost brought tears to his eyes.
"May I know what your problem is?" Albert said from behind. Jetore jumped up in surprise, not expecting to have been followed.
"The hell are you doing here! You wanna be blown to bits or somethin'?!!" he shouted. Albert was far from frightened; they both knew who'd win if Jetore tried anything.
"I have a question for you. In your battle with Robu, you mentioned that you'd never lose again. What does that mean?" Albert asked.
Jetore turned in frustration. "Go away and leave me alone; I hate gettin' sentimental," he replied in a harsh tone.
Albert wasn't having any of that. Unlike Maddeline, he wasn't patient with others. "If you don't spit it out, I'll tell them you're jealous because Riko's stronger than you," he mocked—a rather manipulative way to get someone to confess, though it was sure to work on Jetore.
"Tck… if you really have to know…" Jetore started.
*7 years ago in a farm village in the countryside*
An eleven-year-old Jetore breathed heavily as blood poured down from his nose. Opposing him was a farmer, slightly overweight, holding a bat. "You little bitchy brat! Look what your ass did to my garage!" he yelled, his mouth smelling of liquor as he pointed to a destroyed garage in pieces, with fire spread about.
"Heh, well you deserved it. I know it was you who pushed my dad in front of that tractor. YOU'RE THE REASON I HAVE NO ONE! I'll blow you up next!" Jetore shouted in retaliation.
As the man swung down his bat, a lady flashed in front of Jetore, catching it. "What do you think you, a grown-ass man, are doing tryna beat a child?" she questioned before kicking him back; he slammed into a tree, falling unconscious from the blow.
Jetore stood in shock as he backed away. *What were those moves? I'm the best at fightin', but I couldn't see her,* he thought.
"Hey, kid, come back to my place; we gotta patch that wound on your head, or it could be a problem," the woman said as she turned around to meet Jetore's gaze.
"Hell no! Do you think I'm stupid, you—" Jetore was interrupted immediately by the woman grabbing him in an unbreakable grip as she picked him up with one arm and walked. "Wasn't a suggestion, idiot," she said.
As Jetore struggled, he saw the flames of the garage rage, casting black smoke above the rich crop fields. A sense of regret started to resonate as he looked away; the woman wasn't happy with him either.
Back at her small cabin, she tightly wrapped a bandage around Jetore's head after washing the small wound. He wasn't used to this kind of hospitality; in fact, it was downright abnormal to him.
"So? Now explain yourself, kid. Why the hell did you blow up that guy's garage, and where did you even get the explosives?" she asked, her voice stern yet seeming less aggressive than any normal adult would be in this situation.
Jetore looked to the side, not wanting to make eye contact. "That bastard's idiocy is why my old man is… gone," he answered.
The woman's face grew saddened with sympathy; her tied short brown hair and silver earrings waved from the wind coming from the fields as she placed her hand on Jetore's head.
"The name's Matilla, and you should totally be my kid!" she said, declaring a new bond without consent, to Jetore's comical shock.
For a couple of years, Jetore and Matilla would build a mother/mentor–son bond. She saw something beyond just a futureless punk in him; unlike other people, including his real living relatives, she never turned her back or thought of him as hopeless. After all, the two had the same level of chaos and both were shunned by society.
Matilla taught Jetore to fight and encouraged him to become a professional fighter and make a name for himself in the future. His once heavy heart began to become filled with admiration, though he never showed it. His dream was to be the strongest in the world one day for his mentor Matilla—or, as he saw her, his mother, Matilla.
"And here's another one!" a teenage Jetore yelled as he punched a boar, knocking it out in a second.
Matilla clapped from behind. "Not bad, kiddo, you're getting better at it, but remember to distribute the weight of your body to your arm completely next time," she instructed, holding up the defeated boar with her bare hands.
"Hurry, let's get going! Wild boars always taste the best! Especially the ones in this area!" Jetore urged as Matilla pushed his head playfully, a cigarette in her mouth emanating smoke.
Suddenly, a gunshot fired, the sound shattering the air as Matilla fell to the ground in pain, clutching her shoulder as blood spilled out.
"MATILLA!!! Who did this! Come out, you bastard!" Jetore shouted with a shaky voice as he clutched her as if holding on to his own life.
"This was the one, right?" a man in a red hoodie said, a black cloth covering the lower part of his face as he held a pistol that had just fired.
"Yes, thank you for your work. This brutish woman was being quite a nuisance. Here—pleasure to do business," another man replied, walking out into the open. He wore a fine coat with slicked-back hair and a badge on his chest with the symbol of the Cryohara government—a circle of hands.
As Matilla struggled and looked up, she almost fainted from what she saw. The man was Sagran, an envoy of the government who came to the farmlands earlier to install protection from bandits and help the people. It was disgustingly obvious what his intentions were as he shamelessly handed over cash to the attacker with a smirk that turned Jetore's stomach.
"Y-You're supposed to be helping the c-citizens… not conspiring with criminals, you… FUCKING EYESORE!!!" Matilla shouted as she held Jetore, staring daggers at Sagran.
"And why should a high-class person such as myself bother with protecting lowlifes? And I AM doing my job, technically, by ensuring you don't disturb any more farmers here. True, it may not be ethical, but ethics can only be extended to people who deserve rights," Sagran mocked.
"You bastard! Help her now! I'm killin—" Jetore was stopped as Matilla covered his mouth; she looked desperate for something but seemingly accepted her fate.
Jetore broke free in an instant and charged toward the masked criminal who had shot Matilla, his fists clenched with hate as he threw a punch in spite of Matilla's warning. The man caught it and laughed.
"HAHAHA! Are you seein' this, government dog? This punky brat thinks he can take me," he laughed before kicking Jetore in the stomach, causing him to cough blood and fall back.
"Jetore! Dammit, you bitch," Matilla shouted, glaring at the man.
"You wanna see someone tough? I'll show ya, kid!" the man said as he shattered a tree with one punch, causing it to knock over into the lake.
Sagran stepped back in fear as Matilla's worry and concern skyrocketed—though it was all for Jetore, not her.
*That force… he's a marked one. Only one of those can have that kind of superhuman strength,* she thought.
In that moment, Matilla softly smiled. Jetore saw her tears for the first time as she spoke: "Then… at least let me do something good… in my rotten life… at least this once. Thank you, Jetore. You made me fuckin' happy, you little punk. You better survive this," she said with tears flowing as her voice grew shaky.
"Why are you letting her talk? Finish her now!" Sagran demanded as the man began to load his pistol.
In an instant, Matilla pushed Jetore into the lake; the heavy pressure pushed him away while the boy struggled.
"NO! Matilla! Come with me! NOO!" Jetore shouted, trying to resist the flow of water.
The man pointed his gun at Matilla's forehead, who didn't seem scared in the slightest; she could only offer a face of retaliation in the face of death.
"Just so you know, my name's Erada. I like your attitude; you'll make a memorable sixty-fifth kill," he said with a smile, the name burning into Jetore's memory.
Matilla looked back to offer a determined and mischievous smile to Jetore—one she'd always make before the two went to steal fruits from the farmers.
The sound of the gunshot rang a thousand times in Jetore's mind. Matilla fell lifeless, with a clear shot through her skull.
"The brat's getting away," Sagran said.
"It won't be a problem; he'll die—either drowned and pulled by the water current, or ripped to shreds by the rocks," Erada said.
Miraculously, however, Jetore survived. But from then on, he refused to be weak again; he wished to be the strongest in the world so he'd never lose again. He raged and cried; his hatred toward the government, as well as criminals, was equal from that point on.
After a year, the sound of explosions in the distant districts of Neran City was almost a monthly occurrence, causing fear in the general public. The attacks were from bombings on government institutions. Although these terrorist bombings jeopardized the lives of innocents, they brought down numerous underground crime syndicates, too—with the head of a certain criminal leader of a trafficking organization… Erada, found alongside collateral damage.
The citizens of the district were terrorized and in fear as they saw a man walk with the smile of both a hero and a villain from fiction. He had a silver nose piercing, long hair, and a shining orange passion mark on the knuckles of his left hand—it depicted a symbol of a fuse: the Mark of the Bomber, gifted by Vesterious a while ago.
The man walked past the crowd of citizens, not reacting to any pebbles thrown his way. That man… was Jetore Abdullah.