On the burning street, the Captain stepped forward and found himself facing a man he hadn't expected — white hair, a short neat beard.
He didn't move closer; he simply called out in a lazy, uninterested tone, keeping his distance.
"You must be the Captain," the man said, as if naming a curiosity.
"Why are you following him? You can't fight Yoki."
"Who are you?" the Captain answered, cold and flat, hand on his hilt.
The man shrugged without urgency.
"Bustin. Nice to meet you." He sounded bored, not serious — teasing, almost amused by the whole scene.
The Captain glanced where his eyes could not reach — he couldn't see Yoki from here, but he felt the threat like a weight.
If Yoki was unleashed on the streets, countless people would die. He could not let that happen.
"Step aside," the Captain said.
"I have to stop him. If I don't… too many will die."
Bustin gave a slow, careless shake of his head.
"No. I can't."
The Captain launched himself forward.
Bustin didn't bother to sprint; he simply moved, effortless and unhurried, and the Captain's blade cut through the empty air where Bustin had just been.
The man's dodges were calm, almost bored — not frantic, not aggressive — but deadly effective.
The Captain landed, breath hard, watching Bustin's easy, distant smile.
He tightened his grip, thinking: I can't let Yoki loose. Not here. Not now.
The Captain's eyes narrowed as Bustin moved with lazy, effortless precision, dodging every strike without breaking his calm demeanor.
"He's fast… I have to defeat him," the Captain muttered under his breath, muscles tensing around his grip.
"But… I don't think it's going to be that easy."
He adjusted his stance, scanning the battlefield around him, knowing that any mistake could cost countless lives if Yoki was unleashed in the city.
His sword gleamed in the smoke, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in his chest.
Bustin let out a soft yawn, rolling his shoulder like he was stretching before a nap.
"Why are you so tense about all this?" he asked, voice lazy and half-amused.
"All this fighting, all this chaos… it doesn't even affect your life, does it? Why are you fighting for these people?"
The Captain froze for a heartbeat.
The words slid into his mind like a whisper he didn't want to hear.\
Why am I fighting…?
For the briefest second, the question lingered — hollow and quiet.
Bustin smirked when he saw the flicker of thought in the Captain's eyes.
"So you don't even know," he said softly, almost like a taunt.
But before he could continue, the Captain moved.
A sharp flash of steel cut through the smoke — his sword slicing straight toward Bustin's neck.
Bustin tilted his head aside, the blade grazing past by a hair's width.
He blinked, unimpressed.
"What are you doing? We were talking."
The Captain's eyes burned like steel.
"I know why I'm fighting," he said coldly.
"And you wouldn't understand it. So stop wasting time and fight me. I don't have time to waste on you."
For the first time, Bustin's grin faded slightly — not from fear, but from mild interest.
He exhaled, brushing dust off his sleeve.
"I'm not the one who's meant to fight you."
A voice echoed from behind the Captain — deep, calm, and confident.
"Oh… so I'm late, it seems."
The Captain's expression hardened instantly as the new presence stepped out of the smoke.
Rolsten stood firm, his boots grinding against the cracked stone.
The air between him and Yoki pulsed with heat and tension — the kind that made every breath feel heavy.
Yoki's single, glowing eye locked onto him, unblinking.
"I think I should end this," Yoki said at last, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder.
Rolsten tightened his grip on his axe and sword.
"Don't underestimate me," he growled.
But even as he spoke, his mind was spinning, searching for a way — any way — to keep Roxy's parents safe behind him.
Yoki tilted his head, amused.
"You're strong," he said.
"But you're shaking. Not from fear… from resolve. That's what makes you Captain's companion, isn't it?"
Before Rolsten could answer, another voice cut through the smoke.
"Then why not fight with me, you boar?"
Yoki's grin widened. Rolsten's eyes snapped toward the voice — and for a moment, disbelief flickered across his face.
Through the haze of fire and dust, a familiar figure emerged — lean, armored, and battle-worn.
"Uzair…" Rolsten said.
"Oh, another one. This is getting interesting." Yoki said his expression shifting from surprise to a fierce grin.
Both Uzair and Rolsten understood without speaking — they couldn't win this alone. But neither would step back.
Yoki stretched his neck with a crack.
"Oh, you both can come at me together," he said, his tone casual, almost playful.
"Don't be shy."
Uzair's jaw tightened.
So this is the monster Captain warned us about, he thought grimly.
To face a Captain and Rolsten at once… and still smile like that… he's not human.
The flames behind them roared higher, throwing their shadows across the street — three warriors poised for a battle none of them could afford to lose.
Then they both charged.
Rolsten roared as he rushed forward, his axe swinging low while his sword slashed across in a deadly cross motion.
Uzair followed from the other side, his blade glinting sharply through the smoke.
Yoki met them head-on — one massive hand gripping his single axe.
With a single swing, he deflected both strikes, the clash ringing through the burning street. The shock of the impact cracked the stones beneath their feet.
Yoki grinned, blood rushing through his veins.
"Yes, yes—come at me with all you've got!" he shouted.
Uzair darted in again, fast and sharp, aiming for Yoki's neck.
But Yoki turned his axe with frightening control, blocking the strike with the flat of the blade, then twisted his wrist and sent Uzair's sword flying to the side.
Rolsten used that moment to close the distance, his sword thrusting for Yoki's ribs while his axe came down from above.
Yoki moved like a beast — ducking low, twisting his body, and slamming his shoulder into Rolsten's chest.
The blow was like being hit by a boulder.
Rolsten was thrown back several steps, breath ragged.
Yoki straightened, his single axe resting lazily on his shoulder, expression cold but amused.
"You're both strong," he said, voice calm, almost mocking.
"But still not strong enough."
Uzair wiped the blood from his lip, standing again beside Rolsten. Both men could feel the raw power radiating from Yoki — every movement effortless, precise, and terrifyingly fast.
Rolsten smirked despite the pain, raising his weapons again.
"Heh… good. I like monsters like you."