Ao's grip on the bottles tightened as he stared up at the man blocking his path. The thug loomed over him, his dark brown eyes gleaming with greed. He was tall, muscular, and bore the air of someone who had seen his fair share of fights. The worn-down clothes and rough edges suggested he wasn't going to leave this place empty handed.
"So that's it… You wanna rob a child for some quick cash?" Ao's voice was steady, but his blood boiled beneath the surface. His glare bore into the man before him, this situation was enough to make him sick to his stomach.
The thug chuckled, flipping his knife between his fingers lazily. "You heard me, kid. Nothing personal—money's money. And what you got there? That's worth more than your little life." His eyes glanced past Ao, signaling that there was likely someone else lurking in the shadows.
So this is what Kori meant… Ao thought, recalling her conversation, about how she told Shiro that the real world would kill Ao in a heartbeat. My first time in this village, and I'm already being robbed.
They didn't care that his mother was dying. They didn't care about the work he had to put in to get this. All they saw was the gold they could make. That realization sent a slow burn through his chest, a heat that crawled up his throat like wildfire. It wasn't fear. It wasn't panic.
It was rage.
Silently, he began to gather spiritual energy into the center of his palm, compressing it into a dense core of raw power. His expression grew cold, distant. His heartbeat slowed. He wanted to scream, but more than that— for the first time in his short life…
He wanted to tear them apart.
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Instinct screamed at him to move his hand slightly just in time to see a glint of silver—a blade flying past his hand. The blade cut through the spiritual energy, dispelling it before it embedded itself into the ground beside him.
A second figure stepped out of the shadows.
This one had long black hair tied messily behind his head, a cloth covering the lower half of his face. He wielded two curved daggers, he must've been there for a while, suggesting that if it wasn't him they caught, it would've been someone else put in the same predicament.
"Figures you'd have backup," Ao muttered under his breath, eyes darting between them.
The first thug sneered. "Just hand them over, kid."
Ao clenched his teeth. They want my mother to die for a few gold pieces? Fine…
With a sudden motion, he flung both bottles into the air. The glass caught the dim light, spinning in slow arcs above them to catch both thugs' attention.
The first thug's eyes widened in alarm. "You idiot! Do you have any idea how much those are worth? If they break—"
The man lunged, his focus solely on catching the bottles. It was exactly what Ao wanted.
A split second before the thug reached them, Ao manipulated the spiritual energy around the man's foot, pushing it away from himself with a sharp shove of his hand. The thug's balance shattered instantly, his body jerking forward as his foot slipped out from under him.
Before he could recover, Ao surged forward, channeling raw energy into his fist. Water and earth signatures combined, hardening his strike like a stone-coated tidal wave. He twisted his torso, putting his entire weight behind the punch. His knuckles connected with the man's jaw with a sickening crack—a direct hit.
The force sent the thug reeling backward, his body tumbling across the ground like a ragdoll.
A rush of wind behind him. The second thug was fast—almost too fast. The curved daggers sliced toward his throat in a precise cross slash, aiming to take his head clean off.
Ao had no time to think—only react.
He channeled spiritual energy into his feet and coated his body in a water signature, shifting his weight at the last possible second. With unnatural fluidity, he let himself drop, legs spreading into a wide split as the twin daggers whistled just above his head.
The second thug's eyes widened in shock. "What the—"
Before he could finish, Ao pivoted, one palm snapping forward. Spiritual energy surged outward in a condensed blast, striking the man square in the chest. The force sent him staggering back, his grip on the daggers faltering for a split second—long enough for Ao to spring to his feet.
He snatched the bottles from the air as they descended, cradling them protectively in one arm while his free hand curled into a tight fist, energy still pulsing through it.
The first thug groaned on the ground, clutching his jaw which luckily wasn't broken or dislocated. The second regained his footing, his stance shifting as he coughed, trying to regain the air that was knocked out of his lungs. They had underestimated him.
That was their first mistake.
Their second mistake?
Threatening his mother.
Ao narrowed his eyes, his energy flaring around him. "Still wanna try me? Just leave me al-"
Ao barely had time to register the bottles slipping from his grasp before a sharp, searing pain exploded in his chest. The world blurred as he was launched backward, his body colliding with a stack of wooden crates. The impact shattered them instantly, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, curling inward as he coughed violently, flecks of crimson staining his lips. His ribs throbbed and screamed with a burning and sharp sensation. Something was broken, if he was lucky, that was all.
What the hell was that? I didn't even have time to coat my body...
Blinking through the pain, Ao forced himself to look up. A figure stood where he had been moments ago, catching both bottles effortlessly with one hand. A woman—taller than him by leagues but shorter than the other two men—her build was solid, toned with the muscle of someone who had fought for every meal she ever had. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, a single thick braid running down the center of her back. Light blue eyes, cold and unimpressed, swept over him like he was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. She turned the bottles in her grip, watching the liquid inside swirl like she was gauging what was inside of the bottles.
"Ya kiddin' me, right? Ya mean to tell me a little rascal like this kicked both of your asses?" Her accent was thick, foreign to Ao, but he understood her words well enough.
"He caught us off guard," the brown-haired thug—Rhon, apparently—grumbled as he staggered back to his feet, spitting a bloody tooth onto the ground. His glare suggested that he was beyond pissed as he stalked toward Ao. "Little bastard packs a punch. I'll fuckin gut the rascal for that, demi-human prick."
Ao barely registered the man's words as pressed a palm to his stomach, wincing as he felt the unmistakable warmth of blood beneath his clothes. She broke something… my stomach… maybe a rib. He took a slow breath, forcing the pain down as he activated Respira. His body protested, but the healing from his body enhancement of the white blood cells dulled the agony enough to function.
"He's just a runt, yeah? No need to go so hard on the li'l quorkah," the woman said absently, still studying the bottles. She didn't even spare a glance at Rhon, who was closing in fast. The black-haired thug—Tyler—was already standing, rolling his shoulder with an annoyed grunt.
Ao scoffed. Tch. Calling me a quorkah? Just another word for trash I assume.
His eyes flickered between them, mind racing. He was at a severe disadvantage. Three on one, all bigger, stronger, and experienced. He had speed. He had technique. But they weren't spirit beasts—predictable in their movements. These were people. Worse. Fighters. Killers.
His hand twitched. Spiritual energy gathered at his feet, swirling and condensing as he activated Fire Convergence. The air around him shimmered, blue flames licking at his skin like an ethereal flaming aura. His body felt lighter, but the strain was immediate. He was burning too much energy at once.
The woman finally looked up. "The hell?" She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Do somethin' about him, Rhon."
"Already on it." Rhon sneered, lunging forward, blade slashing downward.
Ao's mind was already made up. Take out the biggest threat first.
With a burst of explosive energy, he shot forward like a missile, the ground beneath him scorching as the flames propelled him. His target wasn't Rhon. It was her.
The woman's eyes widened. Too late.
Ao's head crashed into her stomach with the force of a battering ram. The sickening CRACK of ribs snapping echoed as her body launched backward, slamming into a stone wall with enough force to crater it. Debris and dust exploded outward as she crashed through, disappearing into the wreckage.
Ao hit the ground hard, tumbling before rolling onto his back. The bottles. He reached out, hands closing around them mid-fall. Still safe...
His vision blurred. That move drained more than he expected. He gritted his teeth, pushing past the exhaustion, willing himself to stand. Respira worked overtime to keep his body from collapsing.
"You bastard!" Rhon's voice snapped him back. The man's dagger gleamed as it arced down toward him.
Ao's body reacted before his mind could process, instinct honed by Kuro's brutal training. He shifted, stacking all the signatures he could—Earth, Wind, Water—before slamming a palm into Rhon's wrist. The dagger veered off course, slicing harmlessly past his face. But he had no time to counter.
A blur to his left. Tyler.
Ao twisted, barely dodging the incoming kick, but his balance was thrown off. Rhon recovered instantly, his fist a blur as it slammed into Ao's gut.
His world spun as he staggered back, his body refusing to cooperate. Damn it… He struggled to breathe, barely keeping his vision from blacking out.
They weren't giving him a chance to recover.
Ao was at a severe disadvantage. He lacked their experience—at least, the years they had spent in combat. But he hadn't spent nearly a year training under a spirit beast for nothing. His muscles, though small, were sharp with discipline, and his instincts were honed to react before his mind had even fully processed the threat. There was no room for hesitation. No space for fear nor pain.
He moved like a bullet, darting forward before Rohn could react. His body, despite its size, twisted mid-air, and his foot connected with Rohn's stomach in a brutal snap. The impact forced the thug to stagger back, gasping as the air was ripped from his lungs.
"The hell—?!" Tyler barked, lunging forward. His hands shot out, aiming to grab Ao and cut off his biggest advantage: mobility. If they grounded him, the fight was over.
But Ao was faster.
Using the force of his kick, he pushed off Rohn and bent backward midair, his fingers latching onto Tyler's outstretched wrist. Before the thug could react, Ao yanked himself forward, twisting his body with his full weight. He swung underneath Tyler's arm, using the momentum to coil both legs back like a spring—then he let loose. His heels smashed into Tyler's face in a devastating dropkick.
A sickening crack rang out. Tyler's head snapped back, blood spraying from his shattered nose as he stumbled, his hands immediately flying up to his face. A muffled curse left his lips, but Ao wasn't done.
Keep the pressure. Don't let them recover. If they breathe, they'll counter. If they counter, I lose.
His feet barely touched the ground before he was already moving. Tyler was out of commission for the moment, which left Rohn. Ao spun, his palm snapping outward, releasing a compact orb of spiritual energy directly at the thug's recovering form. The sphere shot forward in a blur, slamming into Rohn's leg like a cannonball. The force sent him sprawling forward, his balance completely torn away.
Now!
Flame surged along Ao's body, wrapping his limbs in a fiery glow as he activated Flame Convergence. He focused all the power into his right foot and, in a single explosive motion, he used spiritual energy as a pulse on the bottom of his foot making his foot blur as it twisted midair, his leg swinging perfectly in a scorching arc.
His roundhouse kick connected with the side of Rohn's skull.
The crack of impact was almost deafening. Rohn's head snapped sideways, colliding with the alley wall hard enough to send fractures through the brick. Blood splattered the stone. His body twitches violently before crumpling to the ground, completely unconscious.
Ao landed lightly, his breath ragged but his stance unbroken. His chest rose and fell, heat pumping through his veins. He turned slowly, his lone visible eye, the other obscured by the blood dripping from his brow, locking onto the remaining opponent.
Tyler stood a few feet away, hunched over, hands still covering his ruined nose. His eyes were wild, disbelief written all over his face, and it fed more into the satisfaction that Ao finally had the advantage. "What... just what the hell are you?" His voice was muffled.
Ao's blood-slicked fingers curled into a fist. His body ached. He could feel the damage—the bruises forming, the sting of his own wounds—but he didn't care. He finally had the upper hand.
They wanted to steal my mother's lifeline? Let her die so they could make a quick profit? His jaw clenched, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. They don't get to walk away unscathed.
Ao's eyes drifted toward the blade lying on the blood-streaked floor. His breath was steady, his body sore but still moving, barely. Without hesitation, he walked toward it, crouching down to grasp the handle. The grip was cold, rough where the leather was worn, yet smooth along the polished steel. It felt right.
He rose, the weight of the blade settling naturally in his hand. Step by step, he approached Rohn, his gaze locked on the unconscious man sprawled on the ground. Blood dripped from his mouth, his chest barely rising with shallow, ragged breaths; they were Pathetic. Weak. Deserved.
They had tried to take everything from him—his mother's chance at survival, his sister's future, his own life. They didn't care about his struggle, his pain, the sacrifices he was willing to make. Why should he care about theirs? One less thug. One less threat. One less waste of breath in a world that tried to take too much from him.
His fingers tightened around the handle, knuckles turning white. His heart pounded, but not from fear, it was anger. The more he thought about it, the more the anger burned. If Murasaki ever fell ill, would people like this just let her die too? If their positions were reversed, would they spare him? No. They would've left him bleeding in the dirt without a second thought. His grip on the blade steadied. His choice was made.
He raised the blade over Rohn's throat, eyes dark and hollow, before a sharp, searing pain tore through his side.
A violent cough wracked his body as blood burst from his lips. His fingers went numb, the sword slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. His knees buckled, and before he could process what had happened, his back slammed into the wall with enough force to shake the crumbling structure. His vision blurred, his thoughts slowed. Then—nothing.
Tarina stood over him, her breath heavy, hands still trembling from the sudden strike she'd delivered. Blood dripped from her lips, but her chest had already healed, the wound that should have left her incapacitated now gone as if it had never existed, the only indicator that it was there was the burnt hole in her shirt, showing a bit of her bosom.
She spat blood to the side, clicking her tongue. "You're somethin' else, kid."
Her sharp gaze noticed Rohn and Tyler, both crumpled and broken. The sight made her stomach twist. This wasn't just some lucky brat who managed to get a few good hits in. He had taken down two fully grown, combat-trained men—and he was about to kill one of them. A child. A damn kid. It was almost unreal.
She let out a slow breath, rubbing the once aching ribs subconsciously as her mind raced. The only reason no one had stormed in yet was because of her wind technique suppressing the noise, but that wouldn't last much longer. This whole thing had turned into a complete disaster. And for what? She glanced down at the shattered glass on the floor, at the glistening puddle of wasted potions.
"You gotta be shittin' me..." she muttered, kicking a shard aside. "We did all this for that damn bottle, and it's gone. Just perfect. Fuckin' perfect."
Her fingers twitched as she looked back at Ao, his small body slumped against the wall, blood streaking his pale face.
A thought struck her.
A child. A child who could wield spiritual energy like a seasoned warrior. A child who took down two men twice his size, who barely flinched in the face of death. Someone like that?
She smirked, crouching beside his unconscious form. "The royals would pay a damn fortune for somethin' like you." Her fingers ghosted over his wrist before gripping it firmly, testing his pulse. "Durable, too... maybe this wasn't such a loss after all."
She leaned closer, her cheek next to his, she felt the tense feeling of spiritual energy coming from it, it was shocking. cracking her neck as she glanced at Rohn and Tyler one last time. They'd live, for now. But the real prize? The real money?
She was looking at him.