Bloodsteel Gangster
Episode 4 – Feeding the Beast
The Bloodbath District was dead.
Not quiet, not wounded—dead.
The gangs that had ruled it for decades were reduced to scraps of meat rotting in alleys, their leaders nothing but stains on the concrete. And in the middle of it all walked Kuro, trench coat swaying, pistol and blade dripping with blood.
To the city, he was already a ghost story. A whisper. The Bloodsteel Gangster.
But to Kuro, it was simple. He was only Level 200.
A fraction of what he could be.
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The Aftermath
As Kuro left the district, the streets were silent. Even the junkies and whores who usually thrived in chaos stayed hidden. Neon lights flickered against puddles of blood that hadn't yet dried.
The city had noticed.
Above, drones buzzed, recording the carnage. Government feeds already lit up with warnings. "Subject 1173—extremely hostile. Liquid steel construct. Kill on sight."
Kuro lit a cigarette from a corpse's lighter, his glowing eyes reflecting in the glass of a nearby shop window. His physique had changed again—bigger, broader, shoulders stretching the fabric of his trench like armor. He was no longer the scrawny boy pulled from death. He looked carved from war itself.
But still… not enough.
He needed more.
The Wolf Rats
The next gang was waiting for him.
The Wolf Rats weren't just dealers and muscle—they were predators. Ex-gangsters enhanced with cheap cybernetics, jaws wired with steel, claws bolted into their knuckles. They ruled the southern train yards, tearing anyone who crossed their territory limb from limb.
By the time Kuro reached their turf, twenty of them had already gathered, howling under the cracked bones of an abandoned train station.
Their leader, a hulking man with steel jaws that clicked like a trap, stepped forward.
"You the one who butchered Bloodbath?" His voice rattled like broken glass. "Good. Means you're worth the teeth."
The pack howled, charging.
Kuro didn't move until the first was inches from his throat. Then his blade slid out, slicing upward. The man's torso split open, organs spilling across the tracks.
Bang. Bang. Two more fell, heads erupting.
The Wolf Rats swarmed, claws scraping sparks across Kuro's steel-coated skin. One dug into his side, ripping muscle away. Kuro didn't flinch—the wound sealed instantly, the blood sucking back into his veins like liquid iron.
"Immortal!" one screamed.
Kuro shoved his pistol under the man's chin. Bang.
Brains painted the walls.
The pack tore at him, but every slash, every bite, every bullet only made his regeneration faster. Kuro's trench coat sprouted spikes, impaling two at once. He dragged another into a pillar and smashed his skull until it burst.
The last tried to run. Kuro raised his pistol and shot him in the spine.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 231.
Balance: $230,000.
Kuro rolled his neck, listening to the bones pop. His body had grown heavier again, muscles swelling, veins glowing faintly red under his skin. His coat stretched tighter, adapting to his form.
Still calm. Still bored. Still hungry.
The Cop Raid
He barely had time to light another cigarette before the sirens came.
Five armored hover-cruisers roared into the train yard, spotlights blinding the night. Dozens of armored cops stormed out, shields and rifles raised.
"Hands up!" one barked through a megaphone. "Kuro Veynar, you're under arrest! Down on the ground!"
Kuro exhaled smoke. "No."
The bullets came instantly. The air filled with steel and fire. Kuro walked forward through the storm, body tearing open and sealing shut again and again. His eyes glowed brighter with every wound.
He raised his pistol. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each shot ripped through a shield, a helmet, a skull. He didn't miss.
Cops screamed, firing blindly. One tried to flank him—Kuro's blade cut him in half, torso sliding off his legs. Another begged into his radio for backup, but his head exploded before he could finish.
The fight lasted minutes. When it ended, the train yard was a graveyard. Hover-cruisers burned, sirens died in smoke.
Kuro stood in the flames, trench swaying, his body glowing faintly from the heat of regeneration.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 265.
Balance: $264,000.
The Feast
Hours passed. The city tried again and again. More gangs. More cops. More assassins sent by syndicates who wanted him dead before he could climb higher.
None survived.
By the time the sun began to rise, Kuro had slaughtered over a hundred more bodies. The streets were painted red.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 300.
Balance: $299,000.
Kuro sat on the roof of a burned-out cruiser, cigarette glowing between his lips. His body had shifted again, monstrous now—muscles like steel beams, chest armored with living metal veins. His presence was so heavy it made survivors tremble just to look at him.
But Kuro's face was the same. Calm. Cold. Unmoved.
He exhaled smoke into the dawn and whispered to himself.
"Three hundred levels. Not even scratching the surface."
His eyes burned like hellfire. The city was endless, and beyond it were worlds, galaxies, infinite enemies. He could feel it calling.
And all of them were nothing but fuel.
Fuel to feed the beast.