George turned once more, feeling that sharp, unsettling sensation of being watched. But as before, when he glanced over his shoulder, the hallway was empty. "Must be the wind..." he muttered, dismissing the paranoia.
He pushed open the door to the restroom. The floor beneath him was made of gleaming green jade, and the walls were adorned with pure white marble. The restroom resembled something from the 21st century, but with its technology replaced by magic—aesthetic luxury mixed with arcane functionality.
However, one wall was visibly unfinished. Exposed pipes poked through, and scattered around were wrenches and tools left by whoever had been working on it. George quickly entered one of the stalls.
As he finished up, George heard a noise from outside the restroom door. He paused, but when nothing further happened, he shrugged it off, assuming it was just one of the performers.
Washing his hands, the sound returned, louder this time. "What the..." he mumbled.
Pah!
The door slammed open. George took a step back, his hands still wet, alarm spreading through him.
"No…"
Akshar, the barbarian purist, stood in the doorway, blocking George's only escape. "I changed my MIND. We FIGHT now," he declared, cracking his knuckles as he stalked forward.
George tried to mimic the fighting stance he'd seen Emerald City guards use, hoping it might intimidate Akshar. But instead of deterring him, the barbarian grinned wider. "Good," Akshar said, licking his lips. "I need you to be strong."
'Oh no,' George thought, panic rising. The stance didn't fool him for a second, but it was all he had. He didn't even know how to throw a proper punch.
Suddenly, Akshar lunged. His punch pierced through George's poor defense, sending him flying backward into the exposed section of the wall. George had barely managed to block the hit, but it still left his chest burning. He spat blood, his back slamming into the unfinished area.
Akshar tilted his head, staring at George crumpled on the floor. He flexed his hands and laughed. "You WEAK... HAHAHA! YOU WEAK!!"
Struggling to breathe, George barely lifted his head as Akshar towered over him, bending down just enough to flick him on the forehead. The light, mocking tap made George's head snap backward, only adding insult to the pain.
"HAHAHAHA! You're not just weak... you PATHETIC!" Akshar sneered, standing up straight and moving to the sink to wash his hands, as if the fight was already over.
George's breathing slowed as he watched the barbarian's back. 'I can't let him leave. If he tells anyone about this...' Rage flickered in his eyes. He fumbled around, his hand grasping something solid and cold—a wrench.
Gritting his teeth, George leapt up and smashed the nearest sink, shattering the marble.
"Huh?" Akshar turned, just as a chunk of the sink collided with his head. "AH!" he screamed as he staggered, blood pouring down his face. Some of his teeth shattered from the impact.
Blinded by blood, Akshar roared, "YOU DARE? COWARD!"
George, heart pounding, grabbed another sink and hurled it at the barbarian. The heavy marble slammed into Akshar's chest, folding him in half and sending him crashing to the ground.
Panting, George tried to pick up the sink again, but his muscles screamed in protest. Before he could gather his strength, a swift kick to his back knocked him off balance. He tumbled to the floor, the wrench slipping from his grip and skidding out of reach.
"Your TRICKS won't work on me!" Akshar snarled, stomping where George had just rolled away. The ground cracked beneath his boot, but George barely dodged in time, the near miss making his pulse race even faster.
"C'mon... c'mon..." George muttered, crawling frantically toward the wrench, now just out of his grasp.
"I said your TRICKS won't work!" Akshar bellowed, grabbing George by the shirt and lifting him like a ragdoll. George thrashed, desperate to break free, but the barbarian's grip was ironclad. Akshar swung him wildly before smashing George into the mirrored wall above the sinks.
CRASH!
"AHHH!" George screamed as the mirror shattered, shards raining down on him as he collapsed onto a sink, his weight breaking it clean off the wall.
Akshar stood over him, breathing heavily. He wiped the blood from his eyes and glanced up at the bright mana-powered lights overhead, basking in his dominance. "Whoo..." he sighed, turning his attention back to George, who was still motionless on the floor.
Reaching down to grab George by the shirt again, Akshar suddenly froze. TASH!
"AH!" Akshar howled as George, with all his remaining strength, smashed yet another sink into the side of the barbarian's face. Akshar stumbled, his vision going red as blood gushed from his nose and mouth.
Seizing the moment, George grabbed the wrench, staggering to his feet. With a grunt of effort, he brought it down hard across Akshar's face, knocking the barbarian to the floor.
But George didn't stop there. Rage-fueled adrenaline took over. He swung again and again, each blow sending shockwaves through his own body. He felt the wrench connect with Akshar's flesh, bones cracking beneath the metal.
"You're weak!!" George shouted between swings. "Who's pathetic now?!"
The barbarian lay on the floor, breathing faintly but unmoving.
Panting, George dropped the wrench. He clutched his ribs, wincing from the pain, before activating the persona ring. His broken, bruised body was instantly hidden beneath the illusion, making him appear perfectly fine.
George stepped over the unconscious Akshar, his heartbeat finally slowing. He limped toward the door, curling his fist to maintain the illusion as he slipped out of the restroom unnoticed.