The narrow street was eerily quiet except for the distant sound of music bleeding from a rundown bar.
Edrin led the group forward, his twin short swords still sheathed at his sides. Behind him, twenty-nine students moved with varying degrees of confidence and fear.
Lysa had an arrow made of Aura nocked but not drawn, her innate sensory skill scanning everything around them.
Ronan cracked his knuckles, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
Zavier gripped his spear so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
"There."
Lysa’s whisper cut through the tension.
"Six of them. Around the corner. Three have guns, two have knives, one has... I think it’s a chain."
Edrin’s mind worked rapidly.
"Ronan, you take point with me. Draw their attention. Lysa, find high ground and pick off the ones with guns first. Everyone else, stay behind us and–"
"Well, well, well."
A rough voice interrupted as six figures stepped out from the shadows, blocking the street ahead.
"Look what we got here. A bunch of kids playing dress-up."
The speaker was a scarred man in his late twenties, a wicked-looking curved knife spinning lazily in his hand. His eyes were cold, empty – the eyes of someone who’d killed before and enjoyed it.
Behind him, his companions spread out, cutting off easy escape routes.
"This is Serpent territory, kiddies. You lost or just stupid?"
Edrin stepped forward, keeping his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.
"We’re here to deliver a message. The Serpent Gang is finished in this district. Leave now, and you won’t get hurt."
Silence.
Then laughter. Cruel, mocking laughter that echoed off the grimy walls.
"Oh man, that’s rich! You hear that, boys? These babies think they can–"
Edrin moved.
His tactical skill activated, and suddenly he could see it – the optimal strike path, the enemy’s weak points, the precise timing needed.
His twin swords flashed out of their sheaths.
CLANG!
Steel met steel as the scarred man barely blocked, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.
"Shit! They’re actually–"
"NOW!"
At Edrin’s shout, chaos erupted.
Ronan charged forward like a bull, his massive frame colliding with two gang members. His fist, enhanced by his innate brute strength skill, slammed into the first man’s gut.
The crack of ribs breaking was audible.
"AGHH!"
The gang member flew backward, crashing through a rotting wooden fence.
Lysa had already scrambled up a fire escape, her bow drawn.
Thwip!
Her first arrow took one of the gunmen through the shoulder before he could aim.
THWIP!
The second arrow missed as the man dove for cover, raising his pistol–
BANG!
The gunshot exploded through the street.
A Mafia student screamed as the bullet tore through his leg, sending him crashing to the ground.
"MARCUS!"
Everything changed in that instant.
The students had trained, yes. They’d sparred, practiced, improved their skills over two months.
But this?
This was different.
This was real.
The second gunman opened fire, forcing the students to scatter like frightened animals. The difference between Academy sparring and actual life-or-death combat became horrifyingly clear.
"They’re just kids! Rush them!"
The scarred man drove Edrin back with a vicious series of slashes, his knife work speaking of years of street fighting experience.
Edrin blocked desperately, his tactical skill showing him what to do – but his body wasn’t fast enough to execute perfectly.
A blade slipped through.
Pain exploded across his ribs as the knife opened a long, shallow cut.
"Gah!"
"EDRIN!"
Ronan tried to help, but he was dealing with his own problems – three more Serpent members had appeared from a side alley, and even his monstrous strength couldn’t handle them all at once.
A chain whipped around his ankle.
He went down hard.
"Big guy ain’t so tough now, huh?"
A boot slammed into his face.
Then another.
Blood sprayed from Ronan’s mouth.
Zavier stood frozen, his spear trembling in his shaking hands as a gang member stalked toward him with a jagged knife.
"P-please, I don’t–"
"Shut up and die, kid."
The knife thrust forward–
BANG!
The gang member’s head snapped back, a perfect hole appearing in his forehead.
He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
Zavier stared in shock, then looked up.
On a distant rooftop, barely visible in the darkness, Damian lowered his gun.
His crimson eyes were cold, calculating, watching everything.
"Boss is watching," Lysa shouted from her perch. "He won’t let us die! FIGHT BACK!"
Something shifted in the students.
They’d been holding back, terrified of actually hurting someone, of crossing that line.
But these men weren’t holding back at all.
These men wanted them dead.
A girl with twin daggers – her name was Selene – dodged a knife slash and countered with a viciousness that surprised even herself.
Her blade opened the man’s throat.
Not deep enough to kill.
But deep enough to send him stumbling back, clutching his neck, choking on blood.
"Holy shit, she actually–"
Another student, a boy named Marcus wielding a short spear, drove his weapon into a gang member’s shoulder with desperate strength.
The man screamed.
Marcus twisted the spear.
Screamed louder.
The sound of backup approaching echoed through the alleys – shouts, running footsteps, the distinct click of more guns being loaded.
"Shit, they called for reinforcements!"
"How many!?"
"A LOT!"
At least fifteen more Serpent Gang members poured into the street from three different directions, cutting off retreat completely.
This wasn’t a small patrol anymore.
This was a war.
Edrin’s tactical mind raced, trying to find a solution, a way out–
But there wasn’t one.
They were outnumbered, outgunned, and most of his people were already injured.
They were going to die here.
"Fall back to the wall! Focus on DEFENSE!"
The students scrambled to obey, pressing their backs against the building behind them.
The Serpent members advanced slowly, confidently, knowing they had already won.
"You kids got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts don’t mean shit when you’re dead."
The scarred leader raised his knife–
And then Zavier started laughing.
It was a high, slightly hysterical sound that made everyone pause.
"You okay, Zav?" Ronan muttered, wiping blood from his split lip.
"I’m... I’m gonna die anyway, right?"
Zavier’s voice was shaking, tears streaming down his chubby face.
"If I run, I die. If I fight, I probably die. So I might as well..."
His grip tightened on his spear.
"MIGHT AS WELL TAKE YOU FUCKERS WITH ME!"
He charged as Aura filled his spear.
With no skill or tactics at all.
Just pure, terror-driven desperation.
His spear caught a gang member completely off-guard, punching through the man’s stomach.
Zavier didn’t stop.
He ripped the spear free and stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Blood sprayed across his face, his uniform, his hands.
He was crying and screaming and stabbing all at once.
"DIE! DIE! DIE! I DON’T WANNA DIE SO YOU DIE INSTEAD!"
The gang members actually backed up, unnerved by the chubby kid who’d transformed into a sobbing, blood-soaked whirlwind of violence.
Damian watched from his rooftop perch, one eyebrow raised.
’Well. That’s... unexpected.’
Edrin stared at Zavier with an expression caught between surprise and respect.
Even Ronan put on a strange expression on his face.
But it worked.
Seeing Zavier’s desperate, brutal assault – seeing that even the most timid among them was willing to kill rather than die – something broke in the other students.
The fear didn’t disappear.
But it transformed into something else.
Something darker.
Something more dangerous.
Selene’s daggers found another throat.
This time, she cut deeper.
A boy with a staff broke a gang member’s kneecap, then his skull when he went down.
Lysa’s arrows stopped aiming for shoulders and started aiming for hearts.
The Mafia stopped fighting like students.
And started fighting like criminals.