The Man Burning with Retribution

YUKIME

When I finally came to, I realized I was draped over the back of a horse like a sack of flour.

Gettan was riding behind me, making sure I wasn’t going anywhere. I was tied up tight, and every bounce of the horse sent a fresh jolt of agony through the hole in my chest. It throbbed with a vengeance, but the bleeding had stopped. Perk of being a beastkin, I guess—our constitution is basically "built different." It wasn't enough to kill me immediately, but I wasn't exactly in any condition to stage a daring escape.

"And just where do you think you’re taking me...?" I managed to wheeze out.

I looked around, but it was just an endless, boring expanse of white. Snow, snow, and more snow.

"I know the Lawless City is the source of those Counterfeit Notes," Gettan growled. "The money is there too, isn't it?"

"Oh, I see... you want me to be your little tour guide to the vault."

"Exactly. Tell me the truth, and I might just let you live."

I felt a dry, bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. "The money? Even if you miraculously find it, you’re never going to touch a single coin."

"—What was that?"

"John Smith is there. You? Against him? Please. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"So, that’s your little partner-in-crime’s name... but it doesn't matter. I’ve obtained a new power, and I’m done losing. I won't let anything be stolen from me ever again."

"New power...?" I looked back at him as much as my bindings allowed. "Gettan, what happened to you?"

"Power is everything! Without it, you just get stripped bare!" he spat, his voice rising with a frantic edge. "You probably don't even know, but there’s a Cult operating in the world’s shadows. They manipulate, kidnap, and experiment on beastkin—a bunch of real monsters. They were hunting the Spirit Fox Tribe and the Great Wolf Tribe because of the power we carry in our blood."

"The Cult was hunting us...?"

"Yeah. So I made a deal. I bowed down to get that power. I told myself it was the only way to keep things from being taken away, and yet...!"

His grip on the reins tightened so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Gettan... if that’s actually true, then why is our village gone? Why did you crawl into bed with the very people who destroyed it?"

"Shut up!! It wasn't supposed to go like this! If I’d just done everything Lord Mordred told me, maybe... but it’s too late to back out now. I’m going to get enough power so that no one can ever touch what’s mine again. Once this Great Commerce Alliance plan succeeds, I’ll be invited into the Rounds. I’ll be untouchable. That’s why I became an Awakened 3rd!!"

"An Awakened 3rd...?"

"It’s the peak! The ultimate level of pill-induced evolution! It’s the ticket I need to get into the Rounds!"

He started chuckling to himself—a low, raspy sound that made my skin crawl.

"Come on, Yukime. Just tell me. Where’s the gold?"

"...You really think I’m going to talk?"

"Once I’m in the Rounds, I won't have to worry about losing anything ever again. We’re the only ones left, Yukime. The last of the Spirit Fox Tribe and the Great Wolf Tribe. We can start over. Just the two of us."

"Gettan..."

"The only reason you didn't kill me earlier was because you still love me, right? You were always too soft for your own good. We’re still fiances, remember? This time, we’ll actually get married."

I felt him lean in from behind, wrapping his arms around me in a mockery of an embrace. He pressed his face close, his lips hovering near my cheek. I just closed my eyes and looked down at the snow.

"No," I whispered.

"...What?"

"The Gettan I loved wasn't this pathetic... he wasn't some weakling who needed to cling to pills and blood-stained gold. He would never have betrayed everything he held dear just to kiss the boots of the Cult!"

"...Shut your mouth."

"Gettan... why couldn't you have just asked me to help you take them down?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!!"

Gettan roared. He threw me off the horse and pinned me into the freezing snow, his hands clamping around my throat.

"What do you know?! You’ve never even stood in front of Lord Mordred! You have no idea what real despair looks like! Everyone bows... everyone eventually breaks before that man! It wasn't just me! I’m not the only one!!"

He sounded less like a villain and more like a child throwing a tantrum, desperately begging for a forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve.

"Get... tan..."

The world started to go grey as he squeezed. My lungs burned, and a single tear traced a path down my cheek before freezing.

"Help... John...-han..."

Then, the wind changed. A sudden gust kicked up a swirl of powder snow, obscuring everything in a veil of white.

Through the haze of the frozen night, a figure appeared.

The snow seemed to dance around him, circling him like a loyal subject, while the sharp sh-sh-sh of Steel Wire slicing through the air echoed across the plains.

"—Are you the one who stole my precious things?"

The man stepped forward, his face hidden behind a mask, his silhouette sharp and imposing in a Black Suit. It was him. John Smith.

The man was absolutely radiating "vengeful protagonist" energy.