Heavy Metal

The mercenary leader barely had a second to react before the two halves of the gauntlet pulsed ominously. Both shone with a mix of white and dark, two energies combining before a crimson spark of energy exploded forth. The leader of the Black Hounds had barely enough time to shield himself before the shockwave sent him skidding backward, his boots scraping against the splintered wooden floor.

At the same time, the other mercenaries who had not been caught in the initial explosions were now scrambling, some pulling weapons and others simply trying to escape. The once rowdy hideout had turned into a blast zone filled with fire and chaos. The roof was starting to collapse, and everyone was clamoring to get out.

A deafening sound accompanied the burst of black and white flames. The dry wooden beams almost instantly ignited. The hideout, already old and in poor condition, did not withstand the sudden, violent attack. Flames licked at the walls, consuming everything in their path. The once lively atmosphere of drunken laughter and rowdy chatter had been replaced with the desperate cries of men scrambling to escape the inferno.

Smoke erupted through the air, choking those who were too slow or too disoriented to move immediately. Some mercenaries coughed violently, their lungs filled with soot, while others stumbled through the darkness, colliding with furniture and their fallen comrades. The mercenaries closest to the explosion had fared the worst. Several had been caught in the initial blast, their bodies thrown across the room like ragdolls. A few lay motionless, their fates sealed in an instant. Others writhed on the ground, clutching at burns or injuries sustained from the shrapnel of broken wood and metal.

One man, his face blackened with soot and blood dripping from a gash in his forehead, pushed himself up on shaking arms. He staggered forward, his legs still weak from the strange black smoke that spread through the base before the explosions. He was almost there, he could see the exit but right before he was out, something collided with his head, bringing him down to the ground and covering him in flames.

"Ahh… I'm on fire… put it out!"

"H-help me!..."

"My… my eyes, I can't see…"

The Black Hound leader had managed to shield himself from the worst of the explosion, but even he was momentarily shaken. His cape, now scorched at the edges, fluttered as he steadied himself. He scanned the burning wreckage as his people screamed. Many of them suffered burns, some were even blinded by the flames or collapsing building parts. He had seen through the deception at the last second, but the damage was already done. His hideout was collapsing, his men were scattering, and whoever had orchestrated this attack had vanished into the smoke.

"Stop with your whining and get yourself together, there could be more."

He shouted, his voice booming through the area and forcing everyone to look his way. The leader of the Black Hounds strode through the carnage with a steely gaze, scanning for any sign of another potential enemy. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his saber, its edge still glowing faintly from the heat of his previous strike. Around him, his men were panicked, their discipline shattered. He could hear their cries—some for help, some for vengeance, others too incoherent to understand.

A particularly large mercenary staggered out from the burning wreckage, his armor charred, a deep gash bleeding down the side of his face.

"Boss! What the hell just happened?!"

The leader did not reply. Instead, he thought back to the man he had pierced with his blade. The blood was still fresh, and he was certain his saber had found the heart. Yet, somehow, the man had still moved in a strange, unnatural fashion. The air around him had felt different, and he was not sure what to make of it.

"Quench the flames, you idiots!"

He shouted again, making the mercenaries scramble off the ground to fetch water. In his mind, there was more to this incident than met the eye. He was sure the man he had killed was connected to it, but until he examined the remains, he would not know for certain. The strange gauntlets that had exploded were another piece of the mystery, and he would not rest until he found whoever was responsible for this attack. If there were more perpetrators, they would all suffer…

******

"Haha, that's what you get for destroying my lair!"

Rusty pushed some trash aside as he darted through another back alley. He could hear shouting and see the glow of flames, but he ignored both. The mercenary leader was far more dangerous than he had expected. If he had known such a person existed, he might have never gone through with this plan, even when Gleam urged him to.

"..."

He glanced back while sprinting through the shadowy path as fast as his small legs would carry him. His form was nothing like his original body as it was much smaller. It was something he had originally designed to be used alongside his friend Gleam. All those times he had relied on her to help him climb and squeeze into tight spaces as a helmet had made him wonder if he could modify his body to be smaller.

With this miniaturized frame, barely half a meter tall, he could slip through holes and hide when needed while still making full use of his skills. If necessary, he could even wield a knife-sized weapon to defend himself. It was far better than being just a helmet. He had even crafted a small lance for himself, meant for the times he would ride on Gleam's back. But for now, he had to rely on his own two small legs to scurry back to his lair.

"Gleam must be worried about me, I need to get back…"

He continued his escape, doing his best to avoid any pesky humanoids. While this place did not have much in the way of guards, the flames had drawn everyone's attention, causing people to rush toward the scene. He needed to stick to the shadows, sometimes even melting into them to stay hidden. There was no way to tell if Gleam was safe, but he had registered her life signal leaving the scene the moment his first gauntlet exploded.

"Close…"

It took him around fifteen minutes to make his way back, carefully avoiding the gazes of people still out at night. When he arrived at his lair, his life detection skill informed him that exactly five living beings were around his decrepit estate.

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However, there was a problem. He was still in his small form and had no idea how the children would react if they realized he was a monster. It was better if they did not associate him with the man he had possessed earlier or at least not understand how he had done it. There were many strange abilities in this world, so as long as he did not explain, they would likely assume he was some kind of spellcaster.

With that in mind, he moved toward one of the holes that had not yet been mended. After some squeezing, he slipped inside his lair. Only then did he shift back to his full form. His helmet was the first to expand, followed by the rest of his body as he activated his loadout.

The tiny form, smaller than a goblin, morphed into the adventurer armor he used to blend in. The expansion of his body generated noise, and the people here quickly took notice. However, at this point there was no reason to hide so he just stepped out to show that it was him.

"It's the mister!"

One of the twins pointed in his direction, and the other children turned to look at him. It was strange. The way they looked at him now was different from before. Instead of fear, there was something else in their eyes, something that looked like relief. Gleam was there as well. She quickly skittered to his side and climbed onto his shoulder.

" ( ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) "

Rusty allowed himself a moment to take in the sight of the children and Gleam. Their relieved faces made him feel something he did not truly understand. There were a few reasons he had saved these three. One was because Gleam and Alexander had asked him to, and another was his anger at someone invading his home while he was away. In reality, he did not care for these young humanoids. There were no deep emotions tied to them, nor did he feel like he owed them anything. There was nothing they could offer him, yet for some reason, it felt like this had been the right choice to make.

'Hm, It's probably nothing. I can still use them'

Rusty was not sure what it was, but it did not seem important. Instead, he focused on what these four could offer him in return. He knew they had nowhere else to go, and that made them useful. A group of indebted, desperate children could be shaped into something beneficial. However, he was not entirely sure how to make them useful. Rolo, the oldest, seemed competent, but the other three were not as much. If they had been caught once, they could easily fall into the same situation again, and he did not find it worthwhile to rescue them every time he was away.

Nevertheless, if he was going to turn this place into a smithy, it might be useful to have them peddle his wares, which he intended to craft soon. Thanks to his magical ability, he expected to be able to create enchanted weaponry once he reached D-rank, something he was already eager to train for. Money wasn't that hard to come by in this world, and hiring someone to protect his shop-in-the-making was also possible.

But for now, he still needed to understand what these children had in mind. Perhaps they would just decide to flee the settlement, something he would have no control over. Rusty took a slow step forward, his armored frame casting long shadows against the dimly lit interior of his lair. The children remained huddled together, uncertain but no longer trembling in fear. Rolo, the eldest, was the first to speak.

"You saved us… right? And... we owe you, don't we?... But why?"

Rusty wasn't sure why, nor did he have a logical explanation for it. His guides were unavailable at the moment, and calling them here would only expose them to these children, whom he couldn't trust. Instead, he decided to avoid the confrontation for now, as he knew these humanoids were close to passing out.

"You don't need to know, but for now, you should try to get some sleep. Those mercenaries probably won't come here."

Even though Aburdon wasn't there with him, Rusty could already hear his guide complaining about his plan to let these children stay. There was a possibility that the people who had taken Rolo and the others might show up. They could interpret the children's presence at his home as enough evidence to accuse him of torching their hideout. However, Rusty was more convinced that they would be focused on figuring out the exploding gauntlets and the identity of the man he had possessed. The captured children didn't seem too important, and if everything went as planned, they would think the children had burned away in the basement.

Rusty watched as the children hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. Despite their exhaustion, sleep did not come easily to those who had spent days fearing for their lives. The twins clung to each other while Rolo, the eldest, remained tense, his fingers curling into the tattered fabric of his clothes. The youngest Natia, rubbed her eyes, fighting the drowsiness overtaking her.

" ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و "

Gleam wiggled her antennae and made a soft chittering noise before hopping down from Rusty's shoulder. She approached the children, nudging them lightly.

"I think we can trust Mister! He helped me."

Natia was the one to speak up this time. She had spent some time hiding out in the basement, and her eyes were quite red. It seemed that she now trusted Rusty, and the little happy dance that Gleam liked to perform helped calm the children, who eventually all agreed.

"If Nat thinks so…"

Ria, one of the twins, spoke up, and her brother also nodded. The three then looked to Rolo, their leader, for confirmation. Rolo's sharp eyes flicked between Rusty and his siblings. He was older, more experienced in hardship, and instinct told him to be cautious. But exhaustion weighed heavy on his limbs, and despite himself, he knew they had no other options. They had nowhere else to go. The streets would swallow them whole, and the mercenaries would find them eventually. If Rusty had truly meant them harm, he would have done so the previous time they were here.

"Thank you…"

"It's fine. Just go to sleep. They won't find you. We'll talk in the morning."

He lowered his head, and the other two children did as well. Nat, on the other hand, seemed too preoccupied with trying not to doze off. Soon, the four children went back to their previous sleeping spaces, which they had assembled from some spare blankets and rags.

The quartet nodded and to Rusty's surprise, they settled down without further argument. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and despite their worries, sleep claimed them quickly. Rolo, ever the cautious one, kept his body positioned protectively near the others, his breathing shallow at first but gradually slowing as sleep overtook him.

Rusty stood there for a while, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests. It was strange, the way they trusted him or perhaps it was simply desperation. Either way, it didn't matter. They were here now, and he would find a use for them. Gleam skittered up onto his shoulder again, her antennae twitching.

"Well, we saved them."

" (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) "

"I'm glad that you're happy… but now what?"

" ( ╹ -╹) "

"I think young humans need more than just mana water to survive…"

The two monsters stood there, exchanging theories about the fleshy humanoids snoozing before them. The fallen door was barely leaning against the entrance, providing a weak attempt at cover. It seemed that, finally, he would be able to restore this place. His goal was to establish a smithy here and peddle his wares to blend in with the people.

However, after his encounter with the mercenaries, he wasn't sure if the timing was right. He needed to reach at least D-rank before he would feel safe. The man had sliced through his twilight steel body like it was nothing. Unless he became more durable, his chances of survival were bleak.

"I need more power, it always comes down to this…"

"( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و"

"Well, that's reassuring!"

Rusty chuckled at Gleam's response and settled down near the entrance. He did not need to sleep and he was unsure if someone might use a tracking skill to follow him here. If such a thing happened, he needed to be ready and even prepared to abandon this place, even if that meant leaving the four slumbering children behind.