Rise of a Dark Hero

Turmoil

Since the last two chapters were rather emotional and dark, the beginning of this chapter was meant to be lighter and bit humorous, but, no worries, it’ll get darker and emotional as the chapter continues.

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Ma’gog was a cesspool of corruption. A prime example of what gangs are allowed to do within a city without the government trying to step in. Crime; murder, drug dealing, corruptions. Everything Blakely fought against was now in front of him again.

Of course, they weren’t even in the city yet. A couple of hours outside the city, the outskirts, was where crime roamed free. Bandits, thieves, they waited in the forest for a poor soul to show up on their doorstep. Then they would strike.

That, obviously, was their situation. Blakely and Iscariot were sleeping peacefully in the middle of the night, trying to ignore their circumstances and merely get through the night. They needed to find Cassia. It was their only objective. Sadly, the night would not go by fast enough.

“Damnit, Iscariot, you want to handle the guys outside? My head still hurts.” Blakely rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the ruckus and general situation not really fazing him. Yeah, bandits were searching through their makeshift camp for valuables, but, it didn’t mean they couldn’t handle them with ease.

“You’re the guy with magic, you can beat a lot of guys at once.” That sly bastard. He was just taking advantage of the fact that his attacks caused damage over an area unlike a sword or gun.

“I’ll burn the bag with money by accident, then.” Blakely fired back quickly. Now he was just manipulating the poor man. He was greedy; making an attempt on his money was like hitting on another man’s wife.

Iscariot jumped out of his sleep, his glare focused on Blakely as he grabbed his weapons. His glare said it all. He walked out of their tent, his sword and gun in hand. “Hey! You bastards better have not touched my money!” There was a gunshot, suddenly. Then another and another.

Blakely could only shake his head in amusement before putting his head back onto the floor. He needed sleep. Iscariot was tough enough to handle those guys outside.

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Iscariot was a man of action. This, to him, was not action. It was a petty excuse of a fight that was beneath him. It was like the dirt beneath his feet. Worthless and needed only in certain occasions.

This fight was not needed and this was not any certain occasion.

He was quick with the gun. As soon as the words had left his mouth, seven faces turned to him. Their eyes were filled with anger, shock, and amusement. Did they think they would just beat him down? Kill him and take all his stuff?

He had stolen from a powerful gang here in Ma’gog! This was nothing. He lifted his arm, his pistol held tightly. He moved quickly and in succession, shot off three bullets. They were so surprised that he was awake, with weapons no less; they didn’t have time to react. Three bodies dropped to the floor, no noise was made besides the thud of their body. Three down, four to go.

The bandits looked between themselves as Iscariot drew closer. They looked towards their dead ‘comrades’. One man had just done that? No, he had done because he had taken them by surprise. They had numbers, they could beat him down with ease.

Four men had charged at Iscariot, their intent to kill. Daggers were pulled out of their pockets, poised to strike and kill the man in front of them. Iscariot moved at them quicker than they could react. He was faster than they thought.