Void stared at Diablo in disbelief as he spoke quietly.
"Bro, what are you talking about? You're telling me you didn't pee back at camp? They can't possibly stop just for one of us to do that."
How was Void expecting him to know about that? All of this came out of the blue, and now suddenly it's his fault?
Diablo turned to him, his voice sharp with irritation.
"But they can stop if more than one needs to," he asked sarcastically, as if both asking and answering the question himself.
"That's because you're not the one holding it in," Diablo added. "That's why you're talking like this, right? If it were you, you'd be completely silent by now. But let me guess—you'd have already peed your pants."
Annoyance crept into his tone. He knew very well he couldn't hold it much longer.
Diablo turned to Lucas and spoke.
"Soldier Lucas," he said quietly, "is it possible for you to ask the driver to stop the bus so I can pee?" He spoke with the last drop of respect he had.
Lucas shook his head. "No, Hold it in."
Before Diablo could respond, one of the soldiers pulled out a plastic bottle and handed it to him. Diablo's eyes widened as he stared at the container, then looked back at the man, unsure if he was joking.
The man simply shrugged. "If you're not serious, then what you're holding in isn't either. But when you're ready, you won't have much of a choice," he said quietly, almost with annoyance.
Diablo spoke slowly. "Thank you," he muttered as he took it, eyeing Void. Then he added quietly, "See? Look at your mate. At least he knows there's an alternative."
Void shot him a glare. "Shut your mouth. You're the one talking—why didn't you pee earlier? Do you think there's always time for emergencies? What are you even teaching me, the newcomer?"
Diablo rolled his eyes. "You're no newcomer. Just keep quiet. When pros are talking, stay silent."
Void scoffed and turned away, as some of the soldiers who had heard Diablo laughed mockingly. As Void joined them, Diablo gave him a sharp glare, his eyes narrowing with irritation.
"Your laughter is annoying," Diablo snapped. "Stop it—you might make the bus lose control."
And just as those words left his lips, the bus came to a slow stop.
The soldiers were startled by the sudden jolt. Then Diablo spoke—teasingly.
"Maybe if you hadn't shut up, everything would've been fine, huh?" he said with a smirk.
Void sighed, sensing the unease spreading among the group. The soldiers began glancing around, clearly confused and trying to figure out what had happened.
Then Lucas's voice rang out.
"All soldiers out! There's an emergency!"
He swung the door open, and the team began filing out. But as they stepped onto the dusty roadside, they spotted others standing nearby—figures they didn't recognize.
Diablo was more than relieved to step out. At least he could breathe properly— from the
'I didn't wash my butt since a day ago' smell.
Also, he could also pee now.
The tension grew. These strangers were wearing the same soldier uniforms. It was obvious—they were intruders, dressed to look just like them. Enough to cause serious confusion.
Lucas raised his hands as he spoke calmly. They needed to act fast.
"We're not here to cause harm. But either we do this the hard way or the easy way—that's up to you. Drop your weapons, or we—"
BOOM!
A bullet tore through the air, striking one of the bus tires and causing it to deflate with a loud hiss.
Diablo rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath,
"If only Mr. Lucas had just chosen the hard way from the start. Why does this man always have to act like Mr. Goody Two-Shoes at the worst possible time huh?"
He sighed.
"Mr. Reconciliation went ahead to test the waters—and now it seems the waters weren't to his taste.
"Let me go piss before someone punches the piss out of me," he whispered to himself as he began to walk towards the bush, nonchalant. In fact, he was barely noticed at the back of the huge soldiers. He moved to the trees when he heard—
"All soldiers!"
No denying Lucas's voice—sharp as a blade.
"Oh, you finally realized. I thought you wanted to make it an enemies-to-friends trope… Fool," Diablo muttered to himself as he slowly slipped into the forested area. He needed to pee—at least before one of those strangers punched the life out of him. That would be the worst; if the bus smelled like sh*t, it would soon smell like piss too.
He shrugged.
"But what can I say? Opposites attract."
Diablo flicked his tongue, chuckling again at Lucas's earlier foolishness.
"Nooo, you wanted peace and unity… Bro really wanted to turn a new leaf," he muttered.
Then, in a swift, unnatural motion, he darted deeper into the woods—urgency driving every step.
Diablo finally came to a stop, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.
Just ahead, a man stood with his back to him, calmly sharpening a knife. The metallic scrape echoed faintly through the trees.
SLING.
The man stilled, noticing a presence, and then slowly he turned to face Diablo, a smile curling on his lips. From the cold authority in his gaze, it was clear—this was the commander of the intruders, or at least the leader of the strangers that shot their bus tire.
'At least he's better looking than our commander,' Diablo thought to himself.
The man moved taking a step forward.
Diablo spoke quietly, echoing Lucas's earlier words with a smirk.
"We can do this the hard way or the simple way—like my acquaintance said. I wouldn't mind testing the waters myself," he chuckled darkly.
He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and stretched his arms, loosening up. Then he added,
"Either you take the hard way—I flex my bones—or the easy way: you go back and tell your men to stop the fight. Your choice, not mine… freedom of speech."
The man let out a cold chuckle.
"Do I know you?" he asked, still sharpening the blade like it was sacred gold. "Go ahead and flex your bones. I'll help you slice them better." He laughed like he'd just spotted prey.
Diablo leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a chilling whisper.
"Shh… let me tell you a secret. I have to kill you now—without a single drop of your blood touching my clothes. Wouldn't want my soldiers questioning a food planner, okay?"
The man raised an eyebrow, noting Diablo's calm tone. His blade whistled through the air—a clean, sharp sound that thickened the tension.
Diablo smiled lazily.
"Come on, then. Don't worry about the sword. My hands are more than enough for this little play of ours."
The man's eyebrow shot up at Diablo's nonchalant words.
"Little game?" he repeated, anger flaring within him.
In an instant, the commander was in front of Diablo.
Whoosh!
His sword sliced through the air. Diablo dropped into a squat as the blade slipped over his head.
"Sharpen your gaze instead," Diablo taunted from where he squatted.
The leader's eyes narrowed. He snapped his leg out in a kick—but Diablo's hand shot up in an iron grip, trapping the attacker's foot. The man twisted free, swinging his other leg at Diablo, but Diablo pivoted on his heel, released the first leg, and dodged sideways. A cruel smile flickered on his lips.
"Interesting…" the manmurmured, lunging again.
Whoosh… Whoosh!
The blades slanged through the clearing due to Diablo's swift dodges, each swing carrying enough force to fall a tree. Diablo leapt back, the sword arcing toward him.
"Tch."
The man kicked the blade aside in annoyance. Diablo's grin widened.
"Let's make this fair," the leader growled, dropping his sword and raising his fists.
"Oh, but I love unfair games. That's what makes them interesting," Diablo replied, boredom already lacing his tone.
The commander lashed out—hand and foot striking together—but Diablo caught both in one swift motion.
DISH!
A steel-hard punch snapped into the commander's jaw. He staggered, dazed. Diablo glanced at the fallen sword.
Before the man could react, Diablo moved—unnaturally fast. In a blink, he had the man's discarded sword in hand.
The man's eyes flew wide in shock at the inhuman speed of it all.
Diablo began flipping it in the air casually, catching it by the sharp tip.
"Should I keep flexing my bones?" he mused. "But my team might get suspicious. Wouldn't want them looking for me…"
He tossed the sword upward with a flick of his wrist. The man's eyes followed the spinning blade—
"Remember our little secret: no bloodstains," he murmured, eyes flicking up. In a blur, he had the blade by its tip, flipping it into the air once more.
The commander lunged to catch it—
SLASH!
The man and slumped to the ground, crimson spreading where the blade had grazed him. He looked like a tomato slashed sideways by a top chef. Diablo cocked an eyebrow.
"Kkkccc…" the man wheezed, blood gushing.
Diablo shook his head, almost proud.
"Hmm. No blood," he said, as though ticking off a to-do list.
"Rest in perfect peace," he spoke casually, as if telling a lecturer he was late due to traffic, flashing a peace sign with his hand.
With unnatural speed, Diablo vanished among the trees.
"Where did he go?" one soldier barked annoyingly.
A soft pssssss answered him—
Diablo was already peeing against a nearby trunk.