Mandalorian Merc/Bounty hunter
H E A D E R
The twin suns of the dust world were setting when Corath Renth found the tracks.
Most would have missed them.
A faint disturbance in the sand. A scuff against stone where a boot had slipped. The subtle shift of weight in a stride that spoke of exhaustion, not confidence.
Corath crouched low, gloved fingers brushing the ground.
"Running," he muttered behind his helmet.
Good.
Running prey made mistakes.
The bounty's name was Tarek Voss—smuggler, slicer, and information broker who had crossed the wrong client one too many times. The job had been simple: track, capture, deliver.
Alive.
Always harder that way.
Corath rose smoothly, scanning the canyon ahead. The terrain narrowed into jagged rock formations, the kind that funneled movement and limited escape routes.
A good place to run.
A better place to trap.
He moved.
Not fast.
Not yet.
Mandalorians didn't chase blindly.
They hunted.
Hours passed.
The light faded, replaced by the cold blue of night. Corath's helmet filtered the darkness into clarity—heat signatures, movement traces, faint signs of life etched across the terrain.
There.
A flicker of warmth behind a rock outcrop.
Corath stopped.
Observed.
The target was resting.
Breathing hard.
Desperate.
Perfect.
Corath adjusted the grip on his blaster rifle, then stepped out from the shadows.
"No point running anymore," he said evenly.
The figure behind the rock jolted, scrambling up and drawing a pistol with shaking hands.
"Stay back!" Voss shouted. "I'll—"
The shot never finished.
Corath's blaster fired once.
Clean.
Precise.
The weapon flew from Voss's hand, skidding across the sand.
The man stumbled back, clutching his wrist, panic replacing whatever bravado he'd been holding onto.
"Please—listen, I can pay more—"
Corath kept walking.
Steady.
Unstoppable.
"Everyone says that," he replied.
He stopped a few feet away, towering over the trembling fugitive.
"You already had your chance."
Voss looked around wildly, calculating escape routes that didn't exist.
"Why?" he demanded. "Why hunt me for someone else's credits?"
Corath tilted his helmet slightly.
"Because I gave my word."
That was all the answer he needed.
The binders snapped shut around Voss's wrists with a sharp click.
Corath hauled him to his feet without effort, securing the restraint line to his belt.
The man didn't fight anymore.
They rarely did at this point.
"Y-you're Mandalorian," Voss muttered. "You people have honor, right? Codes?"
Corath paused.
Just for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"I do."
He started walking, dragging the bounty behind him through the cold desert night.
"That's why you're still alive."
Hours later, the distant silhouette of Corath's ship came into view against the horizon.
Another hunt finished.
Another name crossed off.
Another step closer to becoming what he was meant to be.
Corath Renth didn't look back.
Hunters never do.
