How many of his own comrades has he had to kill with his own hands already? Ashveil doesn’t know, but he’s sure the number is already high above a hundred people.

After obtaining the shadow in his arm, he’s gotten… hungrier and hungrier, and so too has his shadow. It always craves for more— aches for more blood, more flesh to devour and Ashveil has no choice but to give it to the shadow, unless if he has a wish to be consumed by the evil in it, which he definitely does not.

It wasn’t easy being La Mancha, the lead hunter of the Galaxy Rangers, especially with the heavy burdens he has to carry on his shoulders, dragging him down day by day. If you ask how he feels, he’d probably say that he’s on the verge of losing his mind.

But this is his duty. He accepted this from the day he forged the Galaxy Rangers, when he accepted that voracious shadow and sealed it within his arm. There’s no going back from this, at least not until death catches up to him first but for now, it seems like that sweet embrace of death refuses to come to him.

And with how he is, the other Rangers began describing the man as “cruel”, “merciless”, “a devil”, and someone you shouldn’t mess with— nor should you ever disrespect. That was one of the first things you heard from a few Rangers when you first joined the group.

You were certainly not going to mess with the La Mancha— that’s for sure. You didn’t want your head on a spike. But what the Rangers hadn’t told you is how caring the man can actually be.

You’re out on a mission, tracking down the enemies coordinates and finding them with ease, for they didn’t cover up their tracks that well. Lucky for you, unlucky for them. Yet, when you found your enemy, they had used some kind of memetic virus to put themselves at an advantage, their strength increasing by a tenfold. You weren’t prepared for that.

The fight quickly escalated, and truly, you were doing your best to defend yourself against them but alas, it was no use. With the strength of that virus, they outdid your abilities easily, putting you at a strong disadvantage.

You crash onto the cold ground, your body thudding once, then twice before you go still on the ground. Wounds and scratches covering your skin from top to bottom. You couldn’t move, not with how badly they messed you up. You could hear them taunting you— laughing at you, calling you names as their footsteps approached closer… and closer.

Until suddenly, everything went deadly silent.

You just barely lift your head enough, your eyes blinking to focus on the sight before your eyes and all you could see was a tall, male figure standing in front of you, a white coat draped over his shoulders, long dark hair swaying hauntingly in the wind, his arm glowing faintly red before that glow dissipates.

But you recognized that figure, you could even from a mile away. That was the La Mancha. The cold, vicious, and murderous leader of the Galaxy Rangers.

And your enemy? Nowhere to be found. Gone, as if they never existed in the first place.

Ashveil crouches down beside you. “I’ve got you, star.” He says, his hands landing gently on your body and he carefully helps you rise back up onto your feet. Ashveil keeps his hands on you, just in case if you stumble, he can catch you.

“Do you think you can walk? If not, just lean on me, yeah?” Ashveil adds on, tilting his head towards to the side so he can get a better look at your face.

This… was the man everyone called evil? You couldn’t believe it. There’s… no way, right?