Dreadwolf, Lord of Runes

No more than 15 minutes later, the boy stood in front of a door. Shadows swirled around him, but he held two things in his shaded hands: a piece of rope attached to a heavy load and a dual sheath carrying two straight edged short swords.

Curious, he eyed the door, wondering if his plan would succeed or if he’d have to find some random orphan dreg after all.

Since the door was locked and his hands were full, he lifted his leg and easily kicked the wooden door off its hinges.

These old, cheap apartment buildings were a dime a dozen in the slums and simply weren’t built to resist the power of Mystics or Cybers.

On the other side of the door was an old, dilapidated apartment that probably barely had running water and likely suffered from rolling blackouts.

But that wasn’t his problem to solve right now.

He was here for the girl.

He strolled inside while dragging the rope behind him, pulling whatever was on the other end along as well.

Walking into the sparse living room, he looked around. It was about as luxurious as he expected: mould in the corners, a rickety table against the wall, some chairs he didn’t dare sit on, and a cracked window.

But no beastling.

He knew she was here, though.

Just because Mystics didn’t use cybernetics didn’t mean they avoided technology altogether, and the tracker signal he had planted on the girl the day before was very clear.

She was here.

And he was right. In the darkness of the closed bathroom, two green, cat-like eyes blinked. The beastling frowned. She knew someone was here, but she didn’t know who. ‘Did any of those fuckers find me?’ she thought to herself.

The boy didn’t search for her. He knew she could hear him, and that was all he needed right now.

“I know you can hear me… Luna, I think your name was? I overheard your mother calling you that yesterday,” he began, still covered by swirling shadows. “Anyway, I’m not here to trouble you.”

With that, he dumped the dual swords on the rickety table before dragging the rope forward and, with a heavy thump, deposited the three unconscious Walton brothers in the middle of the room.

Despite being stronger than any dreg, dragging those three muscled thugs up the stairs of this building was still quite a chore. He rolled his shoulders a little to ease some of the stiffness in his muscles.

Having done that, he continued speaking into the seemingly empty apartment, “The swords are a gift. You can take them and run if you like; I won’t try to follow you. If you do that, these three dregs”—a word he emphasized by tapping one of the brothers with his shoe—“will eventually wake up, free themselves, and probably hunt you again.”

“Of course, it's a big city, and there's a good chance they won't find you this time," he shrugged, a gesture obscured by the shadows. "Naturally, they won’t be the only ones to hunt you, but you’ll have the swords to protect yourself with, so perhaps you’ll survive long enough to become the hunter instead.”

“If, however,” he continued with a sly grin hidden in the shadows, “you decide you want a little vengeance on the people who sold your mother and tried to capture you, then you should feel free to do so. But it will come at a cost…”

He let that knowledge sink in for a moment before continuing, “Would you like to know more? If not, I’ll take my three friends and leave. You can keep the swords.”

This time, he waited long enough to see if there would be a response.

When none came, he wasn’t disheartened; he knew this was part of the game.

But since she didn’t respond, he would have to move the game forward instead.

So, he picked up the rope again and shrugged. “As you wish then…” he said, before dragging the brothers back outside.

Before he got all the way out the door, however, he heard the clear unsheathing of a sword behind him, followed by a bloodthirsty yet cautious young voice, “Wait…! What price…?”

The boy halted, a victorious smirk spreading across his face. He turned around and waved his hand, causing the shadows around him to disperse.

His young but handsome face appeared, framed by dark locks and adorned by piercing amber eyes. His cloak of shadows wasn’t there to protect or hide him from the girl; it was just to let her know she was outmatched.

He studied the beastling girl standing in the middle of the room, noting the fire in her eyes despite the situation.

The ugly rags on her body and dirty smudges on her face couldn’t hide the fact she would grow up to be a beautiful woman. Her long, slightly dirty, white hair flowed behind her, while her cute ears and tail twitched nervously.

Luna held a sword in each hand, eyeing the boy in front of her. If she was surprised that he was approximately the same age as her, she didn’t show it.

He held up a single finger and added more as he talked. “Wound any of them, and you serve me for ten years. Kill one, and it will be twenty. Kill two, and you’ll be mine for thirty. Kill all three, however, and you’ll be mine for the rest of your life. But in that case, I’ll also help you meet your mother again and, eventually, get her back.”

The killing didn’t just serve as a reason for her service; it was also a show of commitment. A way to bind her to him.

While the beastling girl had shown a cautious yet thoughtful expression before, now her eyes widened, and she cried out, “You know who has her?!”

“I do,” he nodded slowly. “I won’t have the power to free her anytime soon, but I should be able to help you meet her in the next few years.

Then he shrugged casually, "Of course, I would only go through the effort of doing so for someone who committed their life to me. Although, if you choose to kill only two of them, I suppose I can still offer you their name at least.”

“What kind of service…?” Luna asked, narrowing her clearly interested eyes.

“Anything and everything,” the boy shrugged. “Your life will be mine. But I will never make you serve in a brothel, if that’s what worries you. And I’ll help you grow stronger since that would be useful for me as well.”

With that, he had said everything he wanted to, so he dropped the rope on the ground, leaving the Walton brothers there, and walked away. “I’ll be waiting on the roof. Join me there when you’ve made your decision.”

There was no need to warn her against killing them and then trying to welch on the deal by running. If she was foolish enough to believe she could get away, he wouldn't be interested in her anyway.

Had he looked back, he would have seen Luna following his figure with her eyes before turning her gaze back to the brothers with a chilling smile.

Had the brothers been awake, they would have pissed their pants when she started walking up to them with her drawn swords.

They didn’t stay unconscious for long, as proven by the terrified and pained screams that soon filled the hallway, traveling all the way to the boy’s ears, who simply kept walking without a care in the world.