The cold morning air nipped at Damian's cheeks as he made his way toward the school, his boots crunching in the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. Yesterday had been his birthday—a quiet affair with his family, a small cake, and a few thoughtful gifts. Fourteen now. A new year had begun, but Damian felt the same.
He tucked his hands into his coat pockets, glancing up at the overcast sky. Winter still held the city in its icy grip, but the streets were filled with the usual hustle of people going about their business. His thoughts drifted back to the idea of applying for the scholar exams. He'd always been firm in his decision to avoid military service, determined to take the more peaceful path.
His mother had asked him to pick up Ewan from the daycare after school today, something he didn't mind doing. Ewan, now five years old, was still the lively and curious boy he had always been. The thought of his little brother brought a small smile to Damian's face.
As he approached the daycare, the sounds of children's laughter echoed through the air. But something felt off—an unfamiliar tension lingered around the edges of the building. Damian quickened his pace, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as the wind picked up.
The sight that greeted him around the corner made his blood run cold.
Two boys and a girl, slightly older than Ewan, were surrounding his brother. The girl, with her fine clothes and haughty expression, stood with her arms crossed, glaring down at Ewan, who was on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. One of the boys, a tall, muscular kid, grabbed Ewan by the collar and shook him roughly, his face twisted in disgust.
"Hurry up, guys," the girl sneered, her voice laced with cruelty. "I can't believe this commoner child didn't look where he was going. Look at my dress! It's stained with his snot!"
The other boy, a lean kid with a nasty grin, slapped Ewan hard across the face. The sound of the hit echoed through the courtyard, and Ewan's cries grew louder, his small body trembling.
"Grovel," the boy said, his voice low and menacing. "Beg for forgiveness, brat."
The three of them laughed as Ewan continued to cry, too terrified to speak.
Damian froze, his heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, all he could feel was shock—how could anyone be this cruel to a little kid? His little brother? But then, something snapped inside him, a well of fury rising from the pit of his stomach, overtaking his usual calm.
Without thinking, Damian charged forward, his hands balled into fists.
"Get away from him!" he shouted, rushing toward the group.
The boys turned just in time to see Damian tackle the taller one to the ground. Damian's fist connected with the boy's face once, twice, but before he could land a third hit, the other boy kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Pain exploded in his side, but Damian forced himself to stand up, only to be hit again—this time by the taller boy, who had regained his footing. The world spun as Damian fell to the cold, hard pavement.
"Who the hell is this?" the taller boy said, his voice filled with disdain. "Is this your brother?" He sneered as he approached Damian, who struggled to get back up. "Pathetic."
Damian didn't get a chance to reply before the boy grabbed him by the collar and slammed him face-first into the concrete. Blood filled his mouth as his head throbbed, pain radiating through his body.
"I said," the boy growled, leaning down to mock him, "is this your brother? You commoners really don't know your place."
The girl smirked, walking over with slow, deliberate steps. "For a commoner, you know," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "you really should learn to educate your brother in proper manners. But I suppose we can't expect pigs like you to have any dignity."
Damian's vision blurred from the pain, but his rage didn't subside. He tried to stand, only to be kicked in the stomach by the lean boy. They were using aura, he realized in horror—just enough to overpower him but not enough to kill. They were toying with him.
"You're nothing," the girl said, watching Damian struggle on the ground. "But tell you what, if you lick my shoes and grovel, maybe bash your head on the floor ten times, we'll let you go."
Damian's mind raced. His brother was still crying, still being held by one of the boys. His tiny face was red and tear-streaked, his hands trembling as he looked at Damian for help.
The taller boy tightened his grip on Ewan's hand, holding it at an unnatural angle. "Come on," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Do it. Or I'll break his arm."
"No..." Damian whispered, fear spiking through him.
But what could he do? His body was broken and bruised. He wasn't an aura practitioner. He wasn't strong. He couldn't protect his brother. Fury and shame mixed into a nauseating cocktail, and Damian cursed himself for being so weak.
Why did this happen? Damian thought, gritting his teeth. Why couldn't I do anything?
Slowly, Damian forced himself onto his hands and knees. The ground was cold beneath his palms, and his entire body screamed in protest as he lowered himself down.
I have no choice.
He pressed his forehead to the ground once.
The laughter around him echoed, cruel and mocking.
Twice. The taste of blood filled his mouth.
Three times. His head throbbed, his vision swimming.
"Holy shit, he's actually doing it!" one of the boys said, laughter bursting from his mouth. "Look at him! Pathetic."
Damian continued, his body moving on autopilot, humiliation and rage filling his mind as his skull made contact with the cold pavement again and again. His pride was gone, shattered along with the dignity he thought he had.
After the tenth time, Damian stopped, his body slumping against the ground. His breathing was ragged, pain shooting through every part of him.
"Well," the girl said, looking down at him with a disgusted smile. "That was entertaining."
But before Damian could even think they might be done, the taller boy grabbed Ewan's arm and, with a sickening crack, twisted it. Ewan's scream tore through the air, a sound so painful that it made Damian's heart stop.
"No!" Damian screamed, trying to crawl toward his brother, but his body wouldn't respond. His muscles refused to move, and all he could do was watch as his brother writhed in pain, his small arm now limp and broken.
The group laughed as they finally walked away, leaving Damian and Ewan in the snow, beaten and broken.
The bystanders, who had watched the entire scene unfold, did nothing. Some looked away, unwilling to intervene, while others simply shook their heads in sympathy, but no one stepped forward.
Damian lay there, tears mixing with blood as he crawled to his brother. His body ached, his heart was shattered, but all he cared about was Ewan.
"Help," Damian called out weakly, his voice cracking. "Please... someone, help!"
But no one came.
He pulled Ewan into his arms, the boy still sobbing in pain, his little voice calling out for his big brother, for anyone. Damian held him close, his own tears falling as he whispered Ewan's name over and over, his heart breaking as he realized how powerless he truly was.
And as the echoes of their cries filled the air, Damian swore to himself that he would never let this happen again.
Never.