Ashka watched, shocked from a distance, as the boy walked toward the Aggressor.
"Hey, man!" Orion greeted him. "Look, apparently I gotta punch the shit outta you, but don't worry—I'll make it quick, so it won't hurt too much!" Orion tried to reassure the Aggressor.
The man tsked again. He knew he was screwed. Truth was, Ashka was way stronger than him. If Ashka wanted, he could erase him whenever he felt like it. His only option was to run—except that wasn't an option either. The Aggressor felt it in the core of his being: fleeing wasn't possible. Ashka's oppressive presence screamed at his body that it wouldn't work. He had to accept that he wouldn't be bringing any more rations home—and how many more days of hunger would that mean?
But then, the man who had threatened him so fiercely… instead of finishing him off, he sent this kid to fight him. Was this a chance? Some kind of "if you beat him, you're free" deal? Or was it mockery—"You're not worth the effort, so this kid's enough to handle you"? Or… was he being used as training? The Aggressor ran through all the possibilities and hated every answer.
He gritted his teeth, brows furrowed in rage.
"DON'T FUCK WITH ME!" he roared, charging at Orion.
Orion, meanwhile, was calm. This wasn't his first time fighting an armed adult. Growing up in Central's back alleys, Orion had to compete with his peers—and with adults. Rations, shelter, clothes, hygiene… Central didn't have enough of those luxuries for homeless kids like him to enjoy equally.
But truthfully, Orion had never actually fought anyone in his life.
Sure, he'd scuffled with plenty of people to survive in Central—but "fighting" didn't mean throwing punches. Orion was a kid, a boy, smaller and weaker than everyone else. His way of "fighting" was grabbing whatever he wanted and taking the beating until an escape opened up. Of course, it wasn't like he'd never tried trading blows—it's just that he'd never succeeded.
In short, Orion was going to lose. He knew he'd lose. There was no way he could win…
But he would win.
Because this time, he wasn't fighting for food, water, or a place to sleep. He was fighting for all of that—and his future.
So when the Aggressor lunged at him, Orion prepared himself…
And ran.
Ashka stared, jaw slack. What the hell?
Even the Aggressor was stunned. He skidded to a halt mid-charge. The kid had been so brave a second ago—but now he was… running?! Then what was all that big talk earlier?!
But in that moment of hesitation, Orion spun around and hurled a biscuit at the Aggressor with all the strength his scrawny arms could muster. The throw itself wasn't impressive, but Orion wasn't just any weak kid.
Orion was a grateful, cowardly kid.
He'd perfected the art of blinding his enemies from a distance long ago. So when the rock-hard biscuit smashed into the Aggressor's eye, it instantly swelled purple. The Aggressor roared and gave chase.
Seeing the man closing in, Orion twisted, grabbed the collar of his overcoat, and yanked it off his shoulders.
"Toro toro!" he taunted, waving the coat like a bullfighter's cape.
He waited, calm. He couldn't afford to mess this up. When the Aggressor got close enough, Orion flung the coat at him.
The man, of course, saw it coming. It was an old trick—block the opponent's vision. There were a million variations, and with his years of experience, the Aggressor wouldn't fall for something so basic. And of all the ways to do it, Orion had picked the simplest, most predictable version.
Just as expected, when the coat flew at him, the Aggressor was already raising his knife. The moment the fabric touched his blade, he sliced it in two. The trick had failed.
Except… it hadn't.
The trick had worked perfectly.
The coat didn't block his vision for long—but the split second it did was enough. Orion grabbed the plastic water bottle from his ration pack and crushed some of the biscuits inside it.
It was human instinct, after having your vision blocked, to widen your eyes afterward—trying to compensate, soaking in as much info as possible. Orion knew the Aggressor would do it.
And sure enough, as the severed coat halves fluttered apart, Orion saw the man's face—eyes wide open, just as predicted. With a precise flick of his wrist, Orion swung the bottle.
The crumb-filled water splashed straight into the Aggressor's eyes.
The man immediately stopped attacking, clawing at his face. The pain must've been excruciating. Not that Orion cared—the guy had been trying to kill him.
Orion didn't waste time. With the man distracted, he snatched one half of the severed coat and sprinted at him.
The Aggressor swung his knife blindly. He probably expected Orion to rush him—but leaving his wrist exposed was a terrible mistake. Wrapping the coat remnant into a makeshift rope, Orion zeroed in on the man's wrist and acted fast.
With a sharp motion, he looped the "rope" around the Aggressor's wrist and yanked it tight. Then, pressing the edge against the joint where forearm met wrist, he leveraged his entire weight.
CRACK.
The man's wrist bent the wrong way.
With his grip gone, the knife clattered to the ground—and Orion didn't hesitate to snatch it. Just in time, too, because he'd exhausted his bag of tricks.
So far, the fight had been under the boy's control—but it was time for something beyond his control to happen.
The man opened his eyes.
A purple light burned from their depths. The temporary blindness was already fading—he could see. And the first thing he saw, he punched.
Orion flew backward, nose exploding in blood, landing two meters away.
"Ah, there it is. Took long enough," he muttered, clutching his obliterated nose. "Not the worst. Can fix it." Experience told him this break was fixable—just had to do a few odd jobs for a Rearguard in Central, and they'd patch him up.
Orion sat up, looking at the Aggressor—just in time to see him close the distance in an instant. Orion rolled the exact moment the man tried to stomp his skull into the ground. The earth trembled faintly.
Orion gave a nervous grin.
"Shit."
No time to dwell on the near-death experience. The Aggressor struck again, a fist aimed at Orion's face. Orion decided to use his newly acquired dagger—jabbing the tip forward, forcing the Aggressor to adjust his punch.
Still, the blow grazed him, leaving a huge gash across his forearm.
Orion used the opening to stand, locking eyes with the Aggressor.
The man clutched his bleeding arm, face twisted in pain and rage. It was humiliating—his own knife, used to cut him. But it didn't matter. He'd make the brat pay.
He lunged, knee aimed at Orion's ribs. Orion blocked. No point wasting energy dodging when his body could still take a few hits. It was a heavy blow, but he could survive five or six without crippling himself.
With the opening created, Orion tried to stab the man's thigh—but the Aggressor pulled his leg back. Orion didn't let him off free, though. Shifting his grip, he slashed the man's thigh instead.
The Aggressor retaliated with a kick to the chest, putting his full weight into it.
BOOM.
Orion skidded another few meters back.
Something felt wrong inside him, but he shook it off. Worry later—now, the problem was his earlier estimate of five or six hits had dropped to two.
No—one.
He had to end this.
Orion focused again. The next exchange would finish it.
To prove his resolve, Orion was the one who charged this time, pouring everything into the attack. For a moment, he felt the strength in his legs surge—and he blitzed forward faster than before.
The Aggressor's eyes widened. He wasn't ready for that speed. Orion's first slash landed clean—a cut from belly to chest.
"NO!" the Aggressor screamed in desperation.
Orion followed with three more strikes—one to the hand, one to the shoulder (which missed), and the last…
Orion's face contorted in agony. He took one more step—
And his knee gave out.
"GUH—!" Orion groaned.
The Aggressor's eyebrows shot up. A grin split his face.
Of course!
The knee Orion had used to dislocate his wrist had buckled. No ordinary human could pull that off without consequences! The Aggressor wouldn't waste this chance—he sprinted at Orion, mimicking the boy's earlier rush.
Wind whistled as he closed in, hands raised to drive Orion's head into the dirt—
But in that instant, something pierced his stomach.
Warmth spilled down his abdomen.
"I won."