Bloodsteel Gangster
Episode 7 – Warzone
The city was breaking.
Every night Kuro walked, the body count rose. Every gang that challenged him ended up erased. Every cop that pointed a gun wound up dead in the street.
But neither side could back down. The gangs had reputations to protect. The cops had the government breathing down their necks. And so they escalated.
This was no longer crime.
This was war.
⸻
The Syndicate's Answer
At dawn, a council of syndicate leaders gathered in a skyscraper penthouse overlooking the smoking Redlight Strip. Dozens of them sat around a long obsidian table, their suits dripping with wealth and power.
The Iron Fang boss slammed his fist on the glass. "We've thrown men, trucks, cyber-soldiers at him. He doesn't die!"
The head of the Blades leaned back, eyes cold. "Then we stop fighting him like a man. We fight him like a war."
And so the decision was made. The syndicate emptied its vaults, calling in mercenaries from across the galaxy. Killers with mechanized suits, soldiers enhanced with alien tech, bounty hunters armed with weapons forged to pierce gods.
The price on Kuro's head rose to $10 million.
The Government's Move
The cops didn't sit still either. After the Redlight Strip massacre, the state declared Kuro "public enemy zero." Entire battalions were mobilized. Tanks rolled out of bases. Helicopters armed with heavy chainguns circled the skies.
The order was clear: contain him, or burn the city trying.
⸻
The Trap in the Plaza
It began at the Central Plaza. Kuro walked calmly across the open square, his trench swaying, cigarette glowing faintly in the early dawn. The fountain at the plaza's center sprayed mist into the air. Families used to gather here. Now it was empty.
Empty except for the army waiting.
Syndicate mercs lined the rooftops, armed with sniper rifles glowing with plasma cores. Police tanks blocked every exit, their cannons humming with power. Helicopters buzzed overhead, searchlights blinding the square.
Dozens of merc squads and riot cops formed a perimeter, rifles and shotguns leveled.
A voice boomed through a loudspeaker.
"Kuro Veynar! You are surrounded! There is no escape! Lay down your weapons, or you will be annihilated!"
Kuro stopped at the fountain, exhaled smoke, and let his pistol slide out of his arm. His glowing eyes swept across the hundreds of men, calm as ever.
"No."
The War Ignites
The plaza erupted.
Sniper fire rained from the rooftops. Plasma rounds scorched the stone. Tanks thundered shells across the square, fountains exploding into debris. Helicopters opened up, chainguns ripping the air into shreds.
And through it all, Kuro walked.
Bullets tore him apart, shells caved in his chest, plasma burned holes through his limbs. His body shredded again and again—and every time, it sealed instantly. Blood turned to liquid steel, knitting his body back together faster than the damage came.
He raised his pistol. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each shot cracked across the plaza, dropping snipers, bursting helmets. His blade sliced through cops and mercs alike, splitting them open like meat.
One mercenary in a mechanized suit charged, plasma cannon glowing. Kuro fired once—the bullet pierced the visor, exploding the man's head inside the armor. The suit fell like dead weight.
A helicopter swooped low, chainguns spinning. Kuro raised his pistol, aimed once, and fired. The bullet pierced the cockpit. The chopper spun out of control, crashing into a building in a ball of fire.
The plaza became a slaughterhouse.
⸻
The Mercenary Captain
From the chaos stepped a mercenary captain, a towering figure in black combat armor, twin vibro-blades humming with energy. His voice roared through a voice amp.
"You think you're immortal? Let's test it!"
He lunged, blades flashing. Sparks flew as he slashed across Kuro's chest, cutting deep enough to split muscle and bone.
But Kuro's body sealed instantly. His eyes glowed brighter.
"Test failed."
Kuro's blade-arm stabbed through the captain's gut, piercing his armor like paper. With his pistol, he fired point-blank into the man's face until nothing was left.
The merc's body crumpled, armor sparking uselessly.
The Helicopter Gauntlet
More helicopters descended, five at once, missiles streaking across the square. Explosions tore apart the fountain, shattered the plaza into rubble. Dust clouded the air.
Kuro emerged from the smoke, trench coat flaring, his eyes burning like hellfire.
He raised his pistol, firing into the sky. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Five shots.
Five helicopters exploded, raining fire across the plaza.
The survivors screamed in panic. "Fall back! FALL BACK!"
But there was no escape.
Kuro moved like a storm, his blade carving through the retreating cops and mercs, his pistol splitting skulls. Blood sprayed the rubble, pooling in the cracked stone.
⸻
The Silence After
Minutes later, the Central Plaza was unrecognizable.
The fountain was gone, replaced with rubble and corpses. Helicopter wreckage smoldered across rooftops. Tanks burned, their turrets twisted and useless.
Kuro stood at the center, his trench soaked in blood, his glowing red eyes cutting through the smoke.
LEVEL UP. Current Level: 650.
Balance: $649,000.
His physique swelled again. He was enormous now, his shoulders like steel girders, his chest armored by living veins of metal. His presence was crushing, heavy enough to silence the city around him.
Still, his face was calm. Detached.
He lit another cigarette off the flames of a burning tank, inhaled deeply, and exhaled smoke into the dawn.
"Six hundred fifty." His voice was low, steady. "Still nothing."
Because he knew. No matter how many tanks, mercs, or helicopters they threw at him—it was just the beginning.
And Kuro was ready to kill forever.