The wind shifted as the group of men stepped fully into view—eight in total, dressed in worn tactical gear and mismatched clothing, carrying blades, clubs, and makeshift weapons. Their eyes locked on Raito with the certainty of hunters who had already claimed their prey.
One of them, a tall man with a jagged scar cutting across his cheek, stepped forward. "Didn't expect to find anyone way out here. Shame for you," he sneered. "This stretch of forest? Ours. People come here and vanish. Hikers, campers, wanderers... All of 'em end up the same. Dead."
Raito said nothing, watching them with unreadable eyes.
Another man chuckled darkly from the back. "You're next. We'll make it quick if you cooperate. Hand over everything you've got."
Raito didn't move. For a moment, the wind was the only sound in the clearing.
Then he smiled.
A cold, rare smile that never reached his eyes. The kind of smile that had once made seasoned mercenaries hesitate. The kind he hadn't worn in years—not since his past life.
"Oh?" he said quietly. "So this forest eats people alive?"
He paused, taking a slow step forward, eyes locked on the scarred leader.
"Then if all of you go missing too… no one would care huh."
He rolled his shoulders slowly, letting his jacket slip off and hit the ground behind him.
"Let's see how it handles something that bites back."
The scarred leader scowled. "Get him!"
The first attacker lunged. Raito sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm, and with a swift, precise twist—crack—dislocated it at the shoulder before slamming his fist into the man's chest. The sound of ribs shattering echoed like gunfire through the trees.
Two more came at him from either side.
Raito flowed between them, grabbing one by the throat and driving him backward into a tree. The impact splintered bark. The other managed to swipe a blade across Raito's shirt—just fabric. Raito answered with a backhand that sent the man tumbling ten feet before he hit the ground and didn't move again.
Kurai purred in his mind, "Now this… this is what I wanted to see."
One of the men screamed and charged recklessly.
Raito caught him mid-run and slammed his knee into the man's stomach, then twisted behind him and snapped his neck with a brutal efficiency. The body crumpled to the ground as Raito turned to face the last three.
"Mon… monster," one of them muttered, fear painting his voice.
"You called yourselves hunters," Raito said coolly, walking forward. "But you're just wolves who thought they'd cornered a lamb."
The wolves ran.
They didn't get far.
Within seconds, Raito closed the distance—his movements a blur. He struck with raw precision, not wasting a single ounce of energy. His fists were more lethal now than ever before. His body, a weapon honed from years of mercenary training, now amplified by Kurai's demonic power.
The last man tried to beg. Raito didn't hesitate.
When it was over, silence returned to the forest.
Bodies lay scattered across the clearing—broken, unmoving. Raito stood among them, breathing steady, hands stained red.
"No mercy huh?" Kurai chuckled.
Raito exhaled, wiping blood off his knuckles with a leaf. "They were all trash I did a favor to this forest by getting rid of them".
Before leaving, he dragged the bodies into a thicket, covering them with branches, foliage, and loose dirt. It wasn't perfect, but in a forest as remote as this one, it was more than enough to keep the casual hiker or ranger from stumbling upon them.
He stepped back, double-checking the scene with a hunter's eye. No clear tracks, no fresh trails. Nature would take care of the rest.
"But you really did enjoy that didn't you," Kurai whispered, amused.
"I didn't come here for this," Raito said quietly, wiping his hands on one of the men's jackets. "But I won't pretend it didn't satisfy some part of me."
"This the real you don't forget that."
He walked back toward his car, slipping his jacket back on. The forest was quiet once more.
"I don't know what your talking about"
But the silence no longer felt peaceful. It felt… claimed.
And he was the one it now belonged to.