The Goon's fist came flying toward Kaizen's face like a wrecking ball.
Kaizen's body moved on pure instinct. He didn't think about blocking or dodging. His hand shot forward with the greasy wooden skewer still clutched between his fingers, and all the humiliation and anger from getting his corn dog stolen poured into that single thrust.
The thin stick whistled through the air.
Thwack.
The skewer punched clean through the Goon's expensive uniform and sank deep into the meat of his thigh. Kaizen felt the resistance of muscle giving way, and then the horrible grinding sensation as the tip scraped against bone.
CRACK.
The sound echoed off the alley walls like a gunshot.
"GAAAAAAAH!"
The Goon's scream tore through the evening air. His legs buckled underneath him and he crashed to the ground, both hands clutching at his thigh where half the skewer was still sticking out.
"MY LEG! THIS LUNATIC JUST BROKE MY LEG WITH A STICK! THE WOOD IS INSIDE MY BONE!"
Kaizen stood there panting, staring down at the broken half of the skewer still in his grip. Blood and grease dripped from the splintered end.
His brain struggled to process what just happened. He actually did it. He won a fight. That overgrown bully was rolling on the ground screaming because of him.
Justice for his stolen corn dog had been served, and for the first time since waking up in this horrible world, Kaizen felt like maybe he could be the protagonist of his own story instead of just background character number seven.
POW.
A muddy fist coated in crackling mana slammed into his cheek with the force of a sledgehammer.
The entire world tilted sideways. Kaizen's feet left the ground and he flew backwards through the air like a rag doll.
His body crashed into a pile of garbage bags with enough force to knock every molecule of air from his lungs.
[HP: -8]
[HP Remaining: 7 / 15]
[Status: Concussed. Bleeding.]
Pain exploded across the entire left side of his face. Kaizen tried to push himself up but his arms wouldn't cooperate. His vision swam with black spots and doubled images. He spat out a mouthful of blood that splattered across the dirty pavement.
'Right. Of course.'
How could he forget that his Defense stat was literally one point? Getting punched by an E-Rank mana user felt like getting hit by a car.
The other two Goons were already charging at him. They weren't going to wait politely for their turn like this was some kind of video game battle.
"You absolute dirtbag!"
Goon Number Two roared. His boot connected with Kaizen's ribs and sent fresh waves of agony through his chest.
"You think you can use cheap tricks on us? What kind of psycho breaks someone's leg with a greasy corn dog stick?"
"Just die already!" Goon Number Three joined in, stomping down hard on Kaizen's arm.
Kaizen curled into the tightest ball he could manage and wrapped his arms around his head. The kicks kept raining down on his back, his sides, his legs. Each impact felt like being struck with a hammer.
These guys were only E-Rank, which was supposedly the bottom tier of the academy hierarchy, but compared to Kaizen's pathetic stats they might as well have been gods.
"You think you're some kind of tough guy?"
"Do you have any idea what you just did? You made Lord Lance's personal subordinate cry like a baby!"
"We're going to break every single one of your fingers for this!"
Behind them, the first Goon was still shrieking at the top of his lungs.
"SOMEBODY CALL A HEALER! I WANT MY MOMMY!"
Kaizen felt his consciousness starting to slip away. The pain was fading into a numb coldness that spread through his whole body.
The colors were draining from the world, turning everything into shades of gray. His eyelids felt heavy as concrete blocks.
'So this was how it ended.'
He was going to die in a garbage-filled alley because he tried to defend a processed meat snack. Honestly, considering how his luck had been going lately, dying over a sausage felt almost poetic.
Through the narrow slits of his swelling eyelids, Kaizen noticed a new figure approaching from the mouth of the alley.
The Goons were too busy ranting about how amazing and powerful Lord Lance Wind was to notice the newcomer. They just kept kicking and monologuing like cartoon villains.
The figure stopped a few feet away from the beating.
Even through his blurred vision, Kaizen could make out the details.
Stark white hair that stuck up in gravity-defying spikes. The standard academy uniform worn with the collar popped up for maximum cool points. Both hands shoved casually into his pockets. Ice-blue eyes that looked at the world with permanent boredom.
Cedric Alexander. The Fourth Heavenly King. The so-called True Rival character. The Spear Prodigy who supposedly had more natural talent than anyone else in the entire academy.
The guy Kaizen had the luck not run into, but alas, fate indeed had its ways with plot.
Cedric just stood there watching the beatdown with all the emotional investment of someone observing paint dry.
"Hey." Cedric's voice came out flat and monotone, like he was commenting on the weather.
The two Goons froze mid-kick. They spun around to face the interruption.
"Who the hell do you think you..." Goon Number Two started to say, then his words died in his throat. His face went pale. "C-Cedric? Cedric Alexander? THE CEDRIC ALEXANDER?"
"You're being loud." Cedric stared down at a small spot of dirt on his otherwise pristine shoe. "Also, you're blocking the walkway."
"W-we're teaching this piece of trash a lesson!" Goon Number Three stammered. Despite his obvious terror, he tried to puff out his chest and look intimidating. "This is official business on behalf of Lord Lance Wind! If you know what's good for you, you'll back off and..."
Cedric let out a long, disappointed sigh that somehow conveyed more annoyance than a thousand angry words.
He pulled one hand out of his pocket.
Zip.
Kaizen didn't see him move. One second Cedric was standing there looking bored, and the next second there was just a white blur and the sound of air being violently displaced.
Chop. Chop.
Two precise impacts, both faster than the eye could follow.
Goon Number Two and Goon Number Three went completely rigid. Their eyes rolled up until only the whites showed. They toppled over like falling trees and hit the pavement simultaneously with matching thuds.
Cedric slid his hand back into his pocket as if nothing had happened. He stood over the two unconscious bodies with the same bored expression.
"Lance Wind." Cedric spoke to the unconscious Goons even though they obviously couldn't hear him. "Tell that pyromaniac wannabe to keep his dogs on a leash. Their barking is giving me a headache."
The first Goon, the one still lying on the ground with a skewer embedded in his femur, had stopped screaming. He stared up at Cedric with the kind of primal terror usually reserved for encountering apex predators in the wild.
Cedric's ice-blue eyes shifted to lock onto the injured Goon and he uttered one word.
"Scram."
The word came out colder than a winter blizzard.
The Goon didn't waste time asking questions or making threats. He dragged himself across the ground using only his elbows, completely ignoring the broken bone in his leg. Quiet sobs escaped from his throat as he crawled away as fast as his arms could pull him.
Silence settled over the alley like a heavy blanket.
Kaizen lay sprawled across the garbage bags, wheezing with every shallow breath. He tilted his head up to look at the person who had just saved his life.
In the game, Cedric had been a total jerk to everyone except the protagonist, but right now he had just rescued Kaizen from getting beaten to death. Maybe the real version was different. Maybe beneath that cold exterior there was actually a decent person.
'Have the plot changed already?'
Kaizen forced his battered mouth to work. "Th... thanks..."
Cedric turned his gaze downward.
Those ice-blue eyes locked onto Kaizen's bloody, swollen face. There was no warmth in that stare. No pity or concern. No heroic smile like the kind Leo Crimson would give. No friendly hand extended to help him up.
Just pure, undiluted disgust.
Cedric's face twisted into a scowl.
"Pathetic."
He took a step forward, walking closer to where Kaizen lay broken and bleeding. For a brief moment Kaizen thought maybe Cedric would at least check if he was okay or needed a healer.
Instead, Cedric stepped over him like he was an obstacle in the road.
"If you're this weak, do yourself a favor and don't leave your room. Looking at you makes me sick."
He walked away with both hands still in his pockets, his white hair disappearing into the evening shadows. He never looked back once.
Kaizen let his head drop back down onto the garbage bag beneath him. The plastic crinkled softly.
Right. Of course. How could he forget? This was Cedric Alexander, the Cool Rival archetype. The guy who hated weakness more than he hated the literal demons trying to destroy humanity. Being saved by him meant absolutely nothing.
A laugh bubbled up from Kaizen's chest, but it came out as a wet cough that sent fresh pain shooting through his ribs.
"At least... I know I can throw a punch now..." Kaizen mumbled to the empty alley. "Or stab someone with a stick. That counts for something, right?"
The darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, and consciousness slipped away from him like sand through his fingers.