We'd trashed Abreu's bar and Stella had yelled at him, so naturally he wasn't going to take it lying down.
"Hey hey, fuck! Two little shits daring to call me scum on my own turf? That's rich! Slaughter them! But leave the girl for me - I'll take her back tonight. I like her fire!" Abreu pointed at Stella with a leer.
At his command, the group behind Abreu immediately swarmed forward. They focused their attack on Stella first - clearly because Abreu had his eye on her.
But Stella wasn't someone to mess with. With a few sharp chops of her palm, she shattered the clubs in the men's hands. A couple well-placed kicks later, two men were down in seconds.
However, unlike the bouncers we'd dealt with earlier, these were all seasoned fighters - vicious and ruthless. As soon as one group fell, another pressed forward, weapons drawn. Gradually, Stella was forced to give ground.
That's when Antonio charged in. He grabbed one attacker by the throat and drove his fist straight into the man's face. The impact caved in the man's features - broken nose, shattered teeth, blood everywhere - knocking him unconscious before he could even scream.
Antonio always calibrated his strength to his opponents. Against these hardened fighters, he showed no mercy, striking to incapacitate. While careful not to kill, each blow ensured the recipient would spend at least a year in hospital.
After crippling the first man, Antonio seized his knife. When two more thugs rushed him, he kicked one aside and swung the blade at the other. The man's hand - still clutching his weapon - hit the floor as blood sprayed over half a meter away.
"Ahhhh—!" The maimed thug collapsed, clutching his stump and writhing in agony.
Yet these were outlaws, unafraid of death. They kept coming.
Antonio met them with the stolen cleaver. Within ten minutes, the ground was littered with moaning bodies and bloodstains. Drenched in gore, Antonio stood like some blood-soaked Shura, his murderous glare making bystanders shiver. It was primal, predatory - a wild beast eyeing its prey.
When only a third of the fighters remained, their courage failed. They retreated with each step Antonio advanced. His final roar sent them fleeing, weapons clattering to the ground as they scrambled for the exits without looking back.
"Ouch, Mr. Roger, it's still cool following you. Regular fights make life exciting," Antonio joked with a laugh.
I rolled my eyes. You think I want this? Trouble just keeps finding me. My grandfather's so capable that few dare mess with him directly, so they come after me instead.
"Hey, cut it out, man. You're way better than Stein," Stella complimented Antonio.
I wouldn't put it that way. Their roles are completely different. Stein handles hustling and shady operations - basically marketing. Antonio's a bodyguard. If he couldn't fight, why would I hire him?
Just then, Abreu threw his cigar to the ground and cursed viciously, "Bunch of cowards! Ledesma, you're up!"
At Abreu's command, the black-clad men behind him parted ways, revealing the figure I'd noticed earlier. The man removed his black robe and tossed aside his cap, exposing stark white hair. Dark red eyeshadow accentuated his sinister expression. As he moved, his muscles bulged visibly - more defined than Antonio's though not as tall.
"Grandson of the Martial Saint Pascal?" Ledesma asked coolly, drawing two sharp black daggers from his long boots. With practiced ease, he concealed them in his hands.
We immediately recognized this was no ordinary opponent. Could Antonio handle him?
"You knew my grandfather?" Antonio dropped the knife he'd grabbed and drew his own pocket knife.
"Passingly." The words barely left Ledesma's mouth before he appeared before Antonio, daggers flashing toward his throat.
Antonio barely dodged backward while slashing at Ledesma's head. Their blows landed with equal force!
Ledesma seemed surprised by Antonio's speed, barely raising his daggers in time to block.
After thirty seconds of deadlock, their strength proved matched. Ledesma twisted his wrist, slicing Antonio's blade and forcing both combatants half a step back.
Ledesma cracked his neck with a sickening pop, his expression turning vicious. He lunged again, daggers leading. Antonio parried each strike. Several exchanges later, neither gained ground, though Antonio's superior stamina became apparent. After ten minutes, Ledesma's breathing grew labored while Antonio showed no signs of tiring.
Abreu grew impatient and shouted at Ledesma, "What's wrong with you? Can't even wear him down after all this?"
Abreu was right. Antonio had already fought about a hundred guys from the bar, then taken on a bunch of thugs, and now he'd been battling Ledesma for dozens of minutes - yet he still had stamina to spare. It was clear Ledesma couldn't overpower Antonio. Antonio was beating him with relative ease.
Just then, something unexpected happened. Faced with Abreu's taunts, Ledesma suddenly whipped his head around and slashed backward.
A flash of steel—blood gushed from Abreu's neck.
None of us saw it coming—not even Abreu himself. He clutched his throat desperately, but blood kept spurting between his fingers. Pointing at Ledesma with wide, disbelieving eyes, he couldn't even scream—the blade had severed his windpipe.
With a heavy thud, Abreu collapsed. Dead before he hit the ground. His eyes remained open—that unmistakable, vacant stare of the freshly killed.
We stood frozen. What just happened? It was over so fast our brains couldn't process it.
A lordslayer? Was Ledesma some kind of treacherous wolf?
"It was the master's will to kill him. No need for alarm," Ledesma told the black-clad men behind her. "Just clean up the body."
The previously restless group fell silent instantly. Now they all made strange gestures—their hands forming intricate seals.
One minute later, one of the men transformed into a spectral fox. The creature had three tails and radiated an eerie black glow. With its bloodstained maw gaping, it devoured Abreu's corpse whole—the entire process taking less than five minutes.
After feeding, the fox transformed back into a black-clad man as if nothing had occurred.
Was this...the so-called Fox Fairy they worshipped? I felt certain—this thing was pure evil. What kind of monstrosity was this Fox Fairy?
Ledesma turned back to Antonio. "Defeat me," she continued, "and I'll take you to someone."
Though she spoke while looking at Antonio...her words were meant for me.
What did she mean? Take me to someone? Who?