217 The League

The hunter with the red hair reached into his back and drew a long bronze club. He shot Francis a murderous look then rushed him, swinging furiously.

Francis saw through the attacks and danced around them, his mind in shambles. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. He jumped aside as the hunter swung at him again. "Why are you attacking me?"

The red-haired hunter smirked. "Vermin shouldn't speak!"

He unleashed another flurry at Francis, who dodged once more. "I don't want to kill a fellow hunter. We don't even know each other."

The hunter turned and aimed his large club at Francis's head. Francis whipped his pistol and shot the hunter in the chest, staggering him. His beastly arm twitched. He could smell the hunter's blood.

He clenched his fists. 'Not yet!' he thought, studying the hunter from head to toe. He noticed a small wheel on his back, some kind of complement to his trick weapon.

"Who sent you? Was it the executioners?" Francis asked.

The hunter was still pinned on one knee, struggling against the bullet that pierced his chest. His skin pushed against it, slowly rejecting it out of his body. He smirked at Francis, revealing sharp canines.

"Only death can free you now," the hunter said through gritted teeth.

Francis sighed. "So be it!"

He plunged his beastly arm into the hunter's chest right before the bullet was completely ejected. He eviscerated the hunter and propelled him backward and away from him.

The hunter immediately jumped to his feet. His eyes landed on Francis, fueled by fury and blood lust. He roared at the night sky and rushed Francis again.

The old man sighed. "This won't end well for you!"

He easily danced around the hunter's swings and put some distance between them. He stood in an eastern stance and plunged his sword into his side.

As the red-haired hunted turned, Francis drew a semi-circle with his blade and sent a blood-soaked arc at him. It hit him head-on and sent him toppling over the white flowers, breaking some, and painting others red.

"Stay down!" Francis said in a demanding tone.

The hunter growled and jumped to his feet. His eyes narrowed to slits, then he roared again. His roar sent chills down Francis's spine, especially after he saw the shockwave the roar caused. It blew all the flowers away from their roots and broke tombstones.

The red-haired hunter squared his feet and threw his club behind his back. Francis clenched his fists. 'If that's an executioner, then the wheel's bad news,' he thought as the hunter drew his transformed weapon.

It had a simple design, yet it looked eerily terrifying. The bronze club was attached to a double wheel with serrated edges. The hunter grinned at Francis then shook his weapon. The wheel whirred to life, its serrated edges, spun at dizzying speed.

Cold sweat ran down Francis's spine. 'Is he trying to turn me into shredded meat?'

The hunter let out a hysteric laugh as he ran toward Francis, his whirring saw aimed at him. Francis cursed under his breath. He sent another blood arc at the deranged hunter. The arc hit the saw and broke against its serrated edges, creating a blood veil between the hunters.

The red-haired hunter rushed through the veil, and missed Francis by a hair's width. The old man jumped aside and tripped against a tombstone. He rolled backward and nimbly jumped back to his feet. His eyes never left his opponent.

"I have to admit, your weapon's quite something, but it's just a brute's tool," Francis said.

"Vermin shouldn't talk," the hunter said.

He turned to face Francis and slammed his saw on the ground, missing the old man by quite a distance.

Francis chuckled. "What are you trying to do, mow the garden?"

The hunter replied with a wide grin. He grunted then ran at Francis at full speed.

'Oh! Well, that just idiotic!' Francis thought as he got away from the saw.

The hunter ran past him, giving his back to Francis. The old man plunged his sword into his stomach and got ready to attack. The red-haired hunter came to an abrupt stop then swung his saw overhead and directed it at Francis.

He heard a clicking sound, then the saw flew off its handle and right at Francis, whirring all the while. He quickly unleashed his blood attack and met the whirring saw. The force of the projectile, coupled with its weight and spinning motion, overtook the old man.

His guard broke and the saw bit through his flesh. He fell on his back, and felt the saw plunge deep into his chest. It stopped spinning, however.

Francis let out a long sigh and quickly injected himself with two vials. As his flesh healed, he grunted and pushed the heavy saw off his chest. His ears perked up as he heard footsteps approaching him.

He looked just in time to see the red-haired hunter jump high in the air. He flipped and pointed his club at the saw.

Francis's eyes widened. 'Is he trying to connect the club to saw again?'

His muscles had regained their strength, thanks to the blood vials. He roared and wrenched the saw off of his chest, then hurled it at the falling hunter.

He rolled in time for the hunter to fall on his own weapon. Blood painted the previously white and serene garden. Francis jumped to his feet, his eyes darting everywhere, looking for his Chikage.

The red-haired hunter stood and inject himself with two blood vials. "Vermin like you shouldn't be allowed to bud. You'll soon sow chaos and destruction on this land."

Francis retrieved his blade and faced his opponent. "Listen up, you crazy bastard, I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't want to. You're in my way, and that's all I'll act on from now on."

The red hunter scoffed. "There's no other place to go to, old man. This will be your final resting place."

He whirred his saw to life then rushed Francis. The old man waited for the swing to come, in an attempt to parry it and eviscerate the hunter, but the latter saw through it. He held his saw high and grunted, as if to swing down.

Francis shot, and the red-haired hunter quickstepped aside. He plunged his saw into Francis's side and pushed. The saw bit through his flesh and spun at breakneck speed, letting out a strident metallic whine.

Francis howled as the saw turned his flesh to shreds. He could barely breathe, let alone move.

'No! I won't let this bastard or anybody else kill me again,' he thought.

The image of the dead hunter Eileen killed was still vivid in his memory. 'I'm not leaving anything to chance, not anymore!'

He reached into his pockets with trembling hands and injected himself with a vial. The blood gave him a second's respite before the pain and suffering overtook him again. He roared at the pain and glowered at the red-haired hunter, who met his eyes with a mocking grin.

"Time to turn you to dust, old man," the hunter said.

Francis injected himself with three consecutive blood vials. He used the few seconds of clarity he had to plunge his fingers into the hunter's eyes. They went through without resistance.

The hunter screamed and let go of his weapon, hurriedly searching for a blood vial in his pockets.

Francis's blood flowed incessantly, but he'd gotten rid of its source. He turned to hunter and slashed at his chest.

The hunter, although blind, jumped away from the attack and put some distance between him and the old man. His fingers finally found a vial and he plunged it toward his neck.

"Oh no, you won't," Francis said.

With trembling hands, he aimed his pistol at the hunter's vial and released a shot. The bullet missed its mark but hit the hunter in the arm. He fell on one knee, confused and breathless.

Francis's eyes widened. 'Wait a minute, that works too?'

He rushed to the hunter and eviscerated him. Blood showered him, healing his wounds and invigorating him. The red-haired hunter screamed one last time before his body grew still. His weapon dissipated, but the hunter's body remained, growing cold and pale by the second.

Francis injected another blood vial into his stream and observed the hunter with wary eyes. 'When does the dream stop?' he thought.

He didn't hear the footsteps until they were right behind him. He jumped around, his hand quickly found his blade's handle. He frowned as he saw the man who stood before him.

He wore a crow feather cape and had a katana, much like Francis's hanging on his side. He observed the dead hunter with a deep frown.

"I see you've met the league," he said in a somber tone.