The night was alive with fire. Thousands of torches blazed through the city, armies swarming like ants, blades and guns flashing in the dark. The Council of Blood had raised its full might. To anyone watching, the Wolves were doomed.
But the Wolves were not watching.
They were already inside.
Luv moved like a shadow through the sewers, the stench of rot clinging to his black clothes. Beside him, Ayu crouched low, her pistol held tight, her breathing steady. Their steps were soundless on the slick stone.
Above them, through cracks in the old bricks, they could hear the roar of thousands—shouts, drums, boots pounding cobblestones. The gangs were preparing for war.
Luv's voice was a whisper in the dark. "They've gathered every head in one place. Tonight, we end it."
Ayu's lips curved into a fierce grin. "A council without its leaders is just a mob."
The grand hall above was thick with smoke and noise. Ten bosses feasted at a long table, their soldiers filling every corner, laughter and curses echoing off marble walls. At the head sat Moraku, his scarred face twisted in a snarl.
He raised a goblet of wine. "Tonight we drink to the Wolves' death! Tomorrow their heads will hang on these walls!"
The crowd roared in agreement.
But high above, hidden in the rafters, two shadows crouched.
Ayu's jade-like eyes glittered in the dim firelight. Luv's blade glinted as he checked the balance one last time. Their gazes met. No words were needed.
The first strike came like lightning.
A dagger fell from the rafters, burying itself in a boss's throat mid-laughter. Blood sprayed across the feast, silencing the hall in an instant.
Then the rafters exploded into motion.
Luv dropped like a hawk, his blade flashing, slicing through two guards before his boots even touched the ground. Ayu rolled behind him, pistols blazing, bullets slamming into the heads of stunned lieutenants.
Chaos erupted.
"THE WOLVES!" someone screamed.
The feast became a battlefield. Wine spilled with blood, golden platters clattered to the floor, and the grand chandeliers swayed as men drew weapons in panic.
Luv fought with surgical precision, every strike aimed for a throat, a heart, an artery. He cut through armored guards like parchment, his black eyes cold and merciless.
Ayu was fire. She flipped across tables, her hair flying, her jade-like face illuminated by muzzle flashes. She shot one man through the eye, spun, slammed a dagger into another's spine, then kicked over a cauldron of boiling stew into a crowd of soldiers.
Their movements were not just deadly.
They were beautiful.
But the bosses were not weak men.
Moraku rose from his seat, a war axe in his hands, his voice booming over the chaos. "Kill them! Tear them apart!"
Three bosses charged together, their blades flashing. Luv met them head-on, his dagger catching steel, his elbow breaking jaws, his movements relentless. Ayu danced beside him, a whirlwind of lead and steel, covering his flanks.
Blood painted the marble floor.
By the time the last boss fell choking on his own blood, the grand hall was a slaughterhouse. Dozens of corpses lay sprawled across overturned tables, crimson soaking the carpets.
Only Moraku remained, his massive axe dripping red, his chest heaving. His scarred face twisted in hate.
"You think you've won?" he roared, his voice shaking the hall. "You've only lit the fire! Even if you kill me, the whole city will rise against you!"
Luv's blade pointed at him, his voice like ice. "Then let it rise. We'll burn it down."
Far above, the cloaked watcher smiled in the shadows.
"Yes," he whispered. "Now the real game begins."