Death to you. A phrase the demon "Bloodstrider" Mura knows all too well; living out his unusual life as a would-be assassin in an unforgiving world. But in a twist of fate, Mura is exiled to Earth, stripped of his powers and is now hunted by those h...
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Gakidō, Yomi — Year 2098. The underworld and realm of demons. The tranquil illumination of the sky's aurora borealis blended perfectly with the distant glow of city lights and towering skyscrapers from the next district over. The air was humid, a familiar warmth that signaled the possibility of rain. More rain. A never-ending torrential shower as if some god did it just to personally piss you off.
That's what a certain man thought to himself as he sat within a dimly lit pub. The rain had been continuing for five days now and had no intention of stopping.
— Shit, this is just gonna make my getaway even tougher.
Everything tended to fade away when he got lost in thought; all the chatter and laughter from the drunkards and strumpets. Almost as if time had come to a grinding halt.
"Yo! Earth to Mura!? You plan on continuing our game here or what?!"
Mura snapped back to reality. He had this thug on the ropes; the poor bastard threw in everything he had plus his mother if it was possible. Victory was so much of a guarantee that Mura had already begun working on his escape route should things turn rough. With this lot, things would must definitely turn rough.
"I'm sorry, gentlemen. You know, you boys really showed me a grand time tonight. I really appreciate it, truly! I was just lost in the thought of what to do with the thirty thousand sols I already skinned from you."
"You can shove it up your goddamn ass! Now stop with the snarky bullshit!! That pisses me off more than anything, a guy that bleeds you dry and feels the need to rub it in like that!"
Mura smirked, unfazed by the bandit's violent tone. He had dealt with this type more times than he could count. Enough alcohol will give any man the courage he already lacked, and these guys were practically pumping it through their veins at the moment.
The bandits behind their boss looked on nervously. They thought this young looking kid would be easy pickings. Some novice to fleece dry never hurt after all, especially after the haul they recently pulled.
"Come on, boss! You can't let this whoreson get to you, I don't think I've ever seen you lose at cards!" shouted one of the bandits in encouragement.
"Shut the hell up, I'm concentrating!"
Mura picked up a shot glass filled with whiskey and with one fluid motion, knocked back the entire drink. He leaned back in his chair, cards in hand and a pleasant warmth sliding down his throat. Mura kicked up his feet on the table and pointed at the bandit leader with his free hand.
"Control your men and make any final decisions now! I'll raise you!"
The bandits looked on in disbelief as Mura pushed forward a leather sack across the table using his foot. Within the bag was everything he had won to this point, he had bet it all.
