For a moment, Marcus felt as if time itself had frozen. He stood perfectly still, staring down at the Howler member he had just laid out on the pavement. The very group he had e to for sanctuary, the allies he desperately needed to reach, were now the people he was dismantling in the middle of a public street.
‘Crap!’ was the only thought running through Marcus’s head. ‘I didn't mean to actually hit him. I avoided his strike and my body just threw out a counter-punch on reflex.’
He looked at his own fist as if it had betrayed him. ‘I just wanted to annoy him enough to make him report me. I wanted him to call in the higher-ups, but how is he supposed to do that if he’s unconscious?’
Marcus was also genuinely surprised by the lack of resistance. Weren't the Howlers supposed to be one of the "Kings" of the underworld? A top-tier gang that dominated this entire region? He had expected every grunt to be a challenge, but he hadn't realized that not every organization was built like the "One Gang," where nearly every member was a skilled AFC fighter or an Altered. He was used to the caliber of Lupus’s group of Werewolves or his own Dark Guild, where every member was trained in the refined arts of Qi.
Regardless of his intentions, Marcus had certainly caught the attention he was looking for, and then some.
“He attacked him! They attacked him!” one of the other Howlers shouted, his voice echoing off the surrounding food stalls. “Quick, someone report this! We’re under attack! Let the captains know as soon as possible!”
While some members frantically pulled out their phones to relay the news, others were already charging forward, their faces twisted in rage as they closed in on Marcus’s position. The civilians on Burnham Food Street didn't need to be told twice; they were already scattering, ducking into nearby shops and pulling down the shutters. They had experienced enough trouble on these streets, even after the Howlers took over, to know when a situation was about to turn bloody. There were always those who had too much to drink or those who thought they could make a name for themselves by challenging the local powerhouse.
“Hey, hey, this is a huge misunderstanding!” Marcus said, lifting his hands in a universal gesture of peace. “I just wanted to talk to you guys!”
“Yeah, really? You just wanted to talk with your fists?” the first member to reach him barked. “Well, we can talk as well!”
The man threw out a wide, sweeping kick. This time, Marcus didn't strike back. He simply dipped his shoulder and moved to the side, letting the leg whistle past him. But he was being swarmed. Another member appeared behind him, swinging a heavy punch aimed right at the back of his skull. Marcus ducked low, his coat fluttering as he shifted his weight to find an opening, but then a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides.
“Great! Hold him steady!” a third man yelled, rushing in with a cocked fist.
In response, Marcus didn't use his arms. He simply braced his core and snapped his leg upward, burying a front kick deep into the man’s stomach. The sheer power of the blow sent the attacker skidding backward on his toes, gasping for air before he finally face-planted onto the concrete.
Right after that, the air felt different. Another Howler member jumped from a nearby rooftop, landing heavily in front of Marcus. As he rose, his body began to distort and transform. His skin hardened, and his arms morphed into long, obsidian-black pincers that elongated like serrated scissors. He was one of the Altereds integrated into the Howlers’ ranks.
“We knew you guys would eventually e, that someone would try to test us,” the Altered hissed, his clicking mandibles echoing. “We are not as weak as you think!”
The man holding Marcus from behind quickly let go to avoid the collateral damage as the long pincers snapped toward Marcus’s neck like a pair of shears. Stretching out his hands with pinpoint precision, Marcus caught both pincers before they could clamp down on him. He felt the cold, chitinous surface of the Altered’s weapon, but he stood his ground, pushing the massive blades to the side with his raw strength.
“Now this... this is more or less what I expected from a King-tier gang,” Marcus said, his eyes narrowing. “But it seems you have still underestimated your opponent.”
With a sudden burst of speed, Marcus flung the pincers upward, throwing the Altered off-balance. He took a quick, explosive step forward and drove his fist into the man's armored stomach. He could feel the impact against a hard, protective shell, but Marcus’s strike wasn't just external. He channeled a burst of Qi through the point of contact, creating an internal shockwave. The Altered’s eyes bulged; he coughed up a mixture of bile and blood, falling to his knees as his transformation began to flicker.
“Look, I’m really not trying to hurt you guys,” Marcus pleaded, looking around at the remaining members. “Can you just believe me now? I really am the leader of the Dark Guild!”
Judging by the way the other Howlers were tightening their circle, eyes filled with caution and fear, they weren't in a listening mood. And that’s when Marcus’s ears picked up a whistling sound from above. A massive shadow suddenly eclipsed the street lights.
“What the, ”
Swooping down with incredible velocity, a giant blade made of sharp, black-feathered wings crashed toward him. The attack was heavy and fast, carrying enough force to level a small building. Marcus crossed his forearms just in time to block the strike, but the sheer momentum sent him skidding back ten feet, his boots leaving deep ruts in the asphalt.
“Master Crawley!” the other Howler members shouted in relief, looking up at the one they knew as their teacher.
****
For the first time I didn’t shiver through the night, but still throwing up out of both sides…
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