God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

Everyone else hadn't noticed him apart from these two.

"Eh? Isn't that Cain?" The fatter of the two whispered to the thinner one...

"It appears to be him? I think. I'm not so sure... Could be a devil in disguise.

Who knows..." The thinner one said as they continued to gossip amongst one another like a pair of school girls.

"He's gone again..." Vincent said to Steve.

Before they knew it, Cain had disappeared from their sight once again.

"Dunno... Let's focus on more important matters. Who do you think will win this?"

"Eh? I'll put my odds with Blaze. The dudes' got grit, y'know?" Vincent said as they watched the Hunter and Blaze duke it out.

"I'll go with Hunter. Just think about it... He's able to turn into a freaking wolf. He probably has some upbringing issues.

Kids like him are often experts at committing acts of violence."

"Hmm... You do have a point. But there are too many uncertainties. We haven't even seen the true extent of both their powers."

"True... So how about we make a bet..." Steve said, a dubious and cunning light flashing in his eyes.

"Oh? What do you have in mind, my good man?" Vincent said, the same glint in his eyes as well...

Like minds think alike, and the minds of Vincent and Steve were as alike as they came. Whilst Hunter and Blaze were having their battle of brawn, they were having their battle.

A battle of brains...

***

BRATATATATA!!!

A succession of bullets was released from the chamber, traveling through the 500-meter shooting range, all of them hitting the same spot just above the bullseye.

Although this doesn't seem impressive, a real master shooter would be able to hit the bullseye even once. And yet, there was no indication of the bullseye being hit.

Instead, after an entire magazine had been emptied, there was only one hole the size of a standard rifle bullet. It was almost as if all the shooters had made it so, all the bullets never failing to go through the same hole created by the first bullet, with no deviation in the slightest...

"Sigh... Don't know if I'm getting better or not."

On the other side of the practice range, a teenager stood with his hands holding a rifle.

The muzzle of the gun was still smoking hot, but his grip on the gun was like that of a vice clamp. He reloaded the magazine while the target was remotely changed by the computerized AI system used in the shooting range.

Once he was ready, he got into his preferred stance. He stared through the scope of the rifle at his target, his breath coming to a halt as his pupils dilated unnaturally. He suddenly exhaled sharply as his index finger smashed the trigger.

The rifle he was using was an automatic rifle, which wasn't known for its accuracy.

What this means in simple terms, is that the boy is currently doing something that should be close to impossible. For a human to have this sort of accuracy with an automatic rifle, it was the work of a genius, as this wasn't something that could be learned with just training...

His slightly huge belly and fatty cheeks, a product of his many years of bad dieting jiggled due to the recoil, but his hands and eyes were as steady as a rock and as sharp as that of a hawk.

This time, all the bullets traveled straight through the bullseye, leaving only a single bullet hole in the target.

"Sigh..."

Taking off his goggles and gloves, Vincent inspected the target and was pleased with the results.

"Guess that's it for today."

He packed up his gear and made his way toward the entrance of the shooting range.

"Still grievin' ain't ya, kiddo?" The doorman seated in a lazy posture said to Vincent as he strolled out.

"Maybe..."

"Ya can let out bullets all ya want, but the devils are gonna keep gnawin' at yer heart if you don't let it out." The old man said with a profound look on his face...

"How much have you drank, you old wine jar!" Vincent said with a chuckle.

"Eh? Who yer callin' a wine jar?!" The old man said angrily.

"Hahaha... Stinky old man. You better get cleaned up. You reek of booze." Vincent laughed while the old man fumed.

"Don't try to change the subject, boy! Shootin' guns all day ain't gonna give you redemption." This time, there was a look of seriousness in his drunken eyes.

"I'm a fine, old man. Always have, and always will. You don't need to worry about me. The day something is wrong with me, my butt is gonna lose a few stones, so it's gonna be obvious.

Hahaha!" Vincent laughed as he waved the old man goodbye, exiting the building.

"Sigh... Poor kid..."

Vincent strolled along the streets of a highly developed city, headed towards his home...

The high rises, the hover vehicles, the complex mechanized structures powered by engineering and Artificial intelligence, and many other things made it a dreamscape city.

While most would see this as the ideal place to foster a relaxing lifestyle, all Vincent could see, was a cesspool that breeds cockroaches. A disgusting pit where the morally degenerate were born...

Not that he had any problems with it.

After all, he considered himself a cockroach as well...

He might not eat shit, but he was still a cockroach nonetheless...

It was around 7 pm, so dusk was already approaching. This was the time when the true colors of the city were shown. The shooting range wasn't a high-end one and was located on the more "low-end" side of the city.

Although it wasn't obvious, and there was no clear distinction, the city was separated into two parts. One part for the higher class citizens, and the other, for everyone else...

'I'm sure the ones on top aren't any better.' He was right...

Vincent ended his inner monologue when he noticed one of the numerous prostitutes in line along the road looking in his direction. A degenerate grin spread across his face as he danced to the tune his lower head was playing.

For a while now, he hadn't had any luck on the streets as he had been running out of money due to his frequent visits to the shooting range.

Luckily for him, today, he had enough money to have a go at it for the whole night...

Although he was a bit fat, he was still good-looking, so there weren't any issues when it came to finding one with looks that were good enough for him to keep himself hard whilst he was having a go at it.

"One night?"

"Five thousand!" The hooker responded, a seductive smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"Deal!" The horniness of a teenager couldn't be underestimated. He didn't even want to haggle. Right now, all he sought, was release...

However, fate wouldn't grant him said relief today...

"Move out the fucking way, fatty!" Vincent felt a rough hand shove him away. He wasn't expecting it, so he lost his balance a bit but wasn't swept off his feet.

He turned around to see three men the size of walls staring down at him with condescending looks.

The frown on his face changed into a smile in a split second, almost like it had never been there in the first place.

"Oh! Gentlemen? What do you need me for?" Vincent said, his eyes disappearing completely under his thick eyelids, turning them into double crescents. With that sort of expression, he looked so harmless, one wouldn't even suspect him of killing a fly.

The tough expressions on the faces of the men twisted a little, as the flame they had come in with was quickly dowsed with water...

"What's a little brat like you doing here in the middle of the night? Didn't your mama tell you it's dangerous out in these streets, huh?!" One of the bigger men said, tilting his head down to stare Vincent in the face, making him look even more intimidating.

A breath reeking of alcohol wafted into his nose, but he kept cool, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"Well, I was patronizing this young woman, exchanging my money for a few of her services," Vincent said.

"You can fuck off then. She belongs to the boss." One of the goons with a gap tooth said.

"Eh? Is that true?" Vincent turned towards the young hooker he had planned to patronize, his face gradually changing into a worried frown.

'Sigh... Seems like no booty for me tonight.' Vincent sighed internally.

"No, I'm not! Stop spoiling business for me, you freaking goon." The hooker yelled at the goons.

"Shut it, bitch! Can't you see we're talking?!" The head goon boomed at the now frightened hooker.

Meanwhile, Vincent just stared at them, his thoughts unknown. But the smile on his face never left...

"Gentlemen, don't you think this is too much?" Vincent said in his signature polite voice.

"Huh? What was that?!" The goon with the gap tooth said with a raised brow.

"I said... leave her alone," Vincent said, the tone of his voice lowering by several pitches. All this while, the smile was still plastered onto his face.

"Hey, hey... Looks like this punk has some backbone."

"Hahahaha!"

"What if we break it, huh?!

Now the goons were more than eager to teach Vincent a lesson. Before they could even do a single thing, they found out that the fatty standing right before them was nowhere to be seen.

"Eh?! Where did he go?!"

"He was standing right there just now, boss!"

"Maybe he's a ghost?!"

CLICK!

Suddenly, the head goon heard a clicking sound. He felt something cold press against his sides. Although he acted a fool, he was part of the underground and was able to analyze his predicament fast...

A gun!

Vincent had brought out a gun and pressed it against the ribcage of the head goon.

"What the hell? He's behind us!"

"Boss?"

The head goon was sweating bullets while the others were wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

"C-calm down, k-kid! We can settle this peacefully. Are you sure you want to do this here?!"

"We both know I can pull this trigger." The smiling Vincent whispered into his ears.

In the underground, there were many kinds of characters, from all sorts of backgrounds, most of them the product of the vices of a false society.

Amongst these characters, a certain group of them was known for their brutality when it came to taking the lives of others.

They had a unique aura only those who had taken a life before would be able to sense. The head goon had not only taken a life before, but he had also run into one of these people before.

'This fucking fatty is one of them. He's a fucking NO TRIGGER!'

Not only was Vincent a high school student, but he was also a leader of a large underground group known as 'Melpomene and Thalia'.

'The thousand-faced fatty'...

That was the nickname given to him by the big shots in the underworld. He could change expressions like a slideshow. He was a devil with a gun, could kill a fly with a bullet from several hundred meters away, and was also known as a criminal mastermind.

People like him were called 'No Triggers' by the denizens of the underworld...

"Oh? What do you have in mind, my good man?" A hearty smile formed on the face of the good-natured fatty.

Making a deal with him, was like dancing on the devil's tongue...