The soldier rolled his eyes. This man was even more foolish than he thought. So he had disappeared earlier from the battle just because he wanted to pee? He should thank his stars he was small, while most of the soldiers were large and bulky. If not, it would've been hard for him to pull off all these sneaky moves.
"If you keep acting this way, I promise you won't make it to the end of this mission."
Diablo finally turned around when he was done, lazily walking toward him like nothing had happened—ignoring him.
"Save the promises for your will or your funeral. Man, if you keep making promises like that, you'll die before your time," he muttered under his breath.
"If you keep acting like this, I promise you won't make it to the end of this mission," the man repeated, clearly annoyed by Diablo's behavior.
Diablo finally stepped out and noticed they were trying to change the tires. Blood was everywhere—like milk spilled by a careless teenager. From what he could see, his fellow soldiers were breathing heavily.
"You haven't even seen the assassin yet—just regular soldiers—and you're all panting like you ran a marathon. Give me a break. So these are the people Bald picked for this mission, huh? What a fun day!" His lips curled into a chilling smile as he walked over to the bus's trunk.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, retrieved the keys, and unlocked it. Inside, meals and drinks—along with water—were beautifully arranged. A small smile played on his lips. This meal was far better than what they usually received. He was glad none of them had kwashiorkor—a sickness caused by a lack of a balanced diet.
He grabbed the plastic cups, took the water and a bottle of juice, then threw a biscuit into his mouth and ate it. He had the right—he was the food planner, after all. He closed the bus boot before locking it.
As he walked, he spoke, "Let us use this to cool down our temps, bro's"
One of the soldiers spoke up, "Where were you? Bro, I didn't see you at all during the fight."
Another chipped in, "Have you forgotten he's the hider? Mr failure hid himself. What a weak one. No wonder he managed to survive the last mission…"
The man's words were cut short as Diablo's lips curled upwards. His body stilled. Just as quickly as the smile came, it vanished again—done in a way only Diablo would notice. Then he handed the man a cup, which the man quietly took, almost in disbelief.
Diablo opened the bottle and poured water softly into the cup. The other soldiers turned, surprised at the sudden silence from the one who'd been mocking. They looked for a reason, then shrugged it off when they realized nothing appeared wrong—but only if they knew.
Void finally moved toward where Diablo sat and spoke quietly. "Where have you been, man?"
Diablo replied, "A man has gone to peace."
No one dared explain what those words meant.
Void scoffed. "Shut up, dude. I already know."
"I know you knew," Diablo said sharply. "So stop asking stupid questions."
After a moment, Void lowered his voice. "Bro… we left our pets back there. How will they manage? I hope my move was alright."
Diablo rolled his eyes without answering. Instead, he handed Void a cup, then poured water into it. Void took it and drank it down in one gulp.
There was one thing Diablo had come to realize about Void—he already knew.
Void knew he had powers. And this man—this guy standing here—was trying to hide it, as if Void didn't already sense the strength buried within him.
If only he knew… if he really knew just how much power he had inside.
Then Void spoke quietly, "Bro, how about the juice? Aren't you sharing?"
Diablo shook his head. "Since I'm in charge, I'll take it first—to test if there's poison or not."
Void gave him a pointed look. "Just shut up, man. Lying doesn't suit you."
"So who does it suit, huh? You?" Diablo snapped. "Don't annoy me—unless you want to taste this damn drink the hard way."
Finally, the tire was fixed, and everyone began squeezing back into the tight, cramped bus once again.
The employee didn't complain—at least he had gotten a bit of fresh air.
He already knew this mission would take longer than usual; they'd be encountering all sorts of people along the way. Still, he tried to stay optimistic, hoping things would return to some sense of normal before they caught the assassin.
Thankfully, they were blessed with healing powers. He could only imagine the chaos if they hadn't been gifted with that ability.
As everyone finally settled in—or rather, squeezed tightly into place—the vehicle sped off again. One of the soldiers leaned toward Lucas and asked quietly,
"What are our plans? If we come across the assassin now, what do we do? He's no ordinary person. We need a perfect strategy."
Lucas replied calmly, "We've been trained for this. We already know what to do.
Two soldiers will stay at the rear to use their healing powers—to protect and treat the injured faster. Our higher ranks will move to the front, taking charge of the direct assault on the assassin. The rest will provide support from behind. Is that clear?"
All of them nodded in unison. "Yes, Soldier Lucas."
Lucas's gaze shifted. "And you—as usual—just taking up space. But you'll be in charge of protecting the food. Make sure the supplies are in order. The boss can't run on an empty stomach."
Diablo didn't respond. He stayed silent, lost in thought.
Something felt wrong—very wrong.
Why had the assassin revealed himself? Could this be intentional?
Was the man luring them in… planning for them to find him?
What was the real plan?
A soldier turned to Diablo. "Hey, they're talking to you, man," he said, reaching out to tug Diablo's hair.
But before his hand made contact, Diablo's hand shot up, grabbing the soldier's wrist—tight.
Crack!
A sharp scream pierced the air.