Country of Countrymen [Yandere! Males! X F! Reader] | under editing

Zᴀʙᴇᴢ'ꜱ Dᴇꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴀɴᴛꜱ

                Nicolai kept his eyes on the target, the weapon in his hand now safely held by his fingers, his index tightening around the trigger. He felt movement behind him, the quick dash of footfalls and the panicked breathing of [F/n] signified her escape from the situation.

"Sir, Madam [F/n]─"

"─let her," he growled, not sparing the guard, who had noticed [F/n] fleeing, a glance.

Chaz smiled tauntingly at them, the tip of his sword buried somewhat deeply in the grass as he leaned on it casually. "What crime am I being confronted for again?" He inquired, mentally counting down the rebellions he had in the past.

"I don't know the exact term in court, but I think it's called kidnapping," Nicolai grumbled, slowly raising the gun to Chaz's forehead while his free hand made subtle signals for the guards in bright red uniforms to surround him. "As much as I love to see you in the Supreme Court pleading for innocence, I want this to end in peace and am asking you to come along willingly."

The quick footing of twenty men cannot be heard by an unsuspecting ear, but Chaz was very much aware of their strategy. Although it made him slightly nervous by their swiftness to eliminate every possible escape route, he had to end what he had provoked. "If that was all, then you could have just knocked on my parents' door and asked for me to surrender," he suggested coolly, pulling the sword out of the earth and backtracking on his steps.

"Don't move or I'll order to shoot!" The blonde threatened, locking his target on the spot and taking on the right stance, his right shoulder pushed back. His right leg was diagonally apart from the other, giving him the right balance after he shoots.

Twenty-one pairs of eyes were on the black-haired rebel, all observant of his mannerism. Pistols in hand, the guards were composed and alert.

Chuckling uneasily to himself, Chaz looked around and swiftly assessed his enemies. "Wow, this is really unfair. Do you think I can stand against this number of threats ready to blow off my face?" He faced Nicolai again and saw the glint of death in his sharp blue eyes, making him swallow. The sword in his hand felt heavy, but he gripped it firmly, a dangerous smirk on his face. "When was a fight ever fair anyway?"

Chaz raised his weapon at shoulder level, his arm perfectly horizontal with his sword.

A vein snapped in Nicolai's temple and he barked, "I said don't move!"

A maniacal grin haunted Chaz's visage. And in a quick flash, he turned around and slashed the closest man to his reach, the blade slicing through air and flesh in a matter of seconds. Blood spurted out of a man's neck, bearing a gaping wound, and he fell. On the move, Chaz was agile enough to take down two more, rapidly slitting their neck.

Nicolai spat the permission to fire. With three men out of their position, they reformed their structure and moved out of vulnerable angles. Bullets flew in the air. Sweat trickled down faces. And blood was drawn from more bodies.

Men were down. Men were bleeding.

A sword was flying around, the wielder keeping constant concentration and wiping away his smile as a grave expression claimed his countenance.

Bang!

But a sharp pain went through his left shoulder, hindering Chaz's movement. He now had a weak grip, but he had to keep going. His eyes absorbed the environment and saw enough gore to make him shiver and charge his adrenaline. How many more to take down? He didn't know. There wasn't enough time to calculate.

A blinding excitement engulfed him, his blood pumping crazily for his heart. His mind was reeling illogically, but functioning madly. He sensed the closest man beside him. Chaz moved forward, a wicked grin stretching his lips when he was eye to eye with Nicolai. He slashed the sword against him but it only lacerated Nicolai's arm.