A blow came whistling near Lucian's head, slicing the air so close that he felt the rush of wind graze his cheek. He ducked just in time, his instincts screaming louder than his thoughts.
Without hesitation, he stumbled backward, his feet skidding slightly on the blood-slick floor as he widened the gap between himself and his attacker. He didn't want to be within striking range—not yet.
His little maneuver had annoyed the first hulking man and he was now visibly annoyed, he had wiped the smirk off his face. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and with a growl of frustration, he began advancing again.
Behind him, the second brute followed closely, shadowing his partner like a menacing specter. They moved with a hunter's precision, spreading out to box Lucian in as they neared the corner.
"You're cornered now," the second man rumbled, his deep voice carrying over the chaotic noise of the riot. His lips curled into a toothy grin, baring uneven, yellowed teeth. "Let's see if there's any fight in you."
Lucian stared at them, his back brushing against the cold, unyielding bars of the cell behind him. His grip tightened around the femur bone he clutched, its jagged edges gleaming faintly under the flickering overhead light.
Surprisingly he found he wasn't intimidated by them.
Yes, they were towering giants, muscle-bound and feral, but Lucian no longer feared men. Every man was mortal, he reminded himself. All he had to do was find the right way to kill them.
Raising the femur, he brandished it like a club, his voice loud and defiant despite the pounding of his heart. "Stay back!"
The two men exchanged amused glances, their grins widening into laughter that echoed mockingly through the block. Their laughter was cruel, cutting into the tension like a knife. When it subsided, the first man fixed Lucian with a cold stare.
"Or what?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Lucian had no time to reply. The man lunged forward without warning, his fists swinging with brutal force.
But Lucian wasn't idle as he moved. His retreat and words weren't borne of fear—they were stalling tactics. He had been watching the duo carefully, trying to pinpoint places of potential weaknesses hidden beneath their monstrous frames.
Lucian's mind raced as he analyzed the situation.
The men was bigger than him by a large margin and much stronger too. He couldn't hope to match their strength, and their sheer size made them dangerous in close quarters. But their bulk might also be their weakness. If it made them slower as he suspected it would, then he could relyon his speed.
Also if he kept low to the ground, he could reduce his surface area and become a much harder target to hit.
That was all he could analyze before the first man came at him again, fists like sledgehammers swinging toward his head.
Lucian ducked just in time, his breath catching in his throat as the blow whistled past. And he dodged, an idea struck him.
The body had its weak points: the groin, the knees, the sides, the neck, and the eyes. These were the most vulnerable areas, and if he could strike one of them, it might turn the tide of the fight, ending it much sooner than it should be.
And since he was already crouched low to the ground, Lucian's instincts told him to strike the low parts where the giants were most vulnerable—parts of the body that no amount of muscle could protect. The groin and knees came to mind immediately, targets both sensitive and easy to reach from his position.
The brute stepped forward again, his movements slower now, telegraphed by his overconfidence. This time, Lucian didn't wait to be attacked. He lunged low, the femur swinging in a wide arc.
The jagged edge connected with the man's knee.
CRACK!
The sound was dull but satisfying, a sickening note that carried through the riot-torn block.
"ARGHHH!" The man let out a guttural roar, stumbling backward as his injured leg gave way. He swayed for a moment, his massive body threatening to collapse.
Lucian felt a flicker of triumph, but it was short-lived. The second man moved quickly, stepping forward to catch his partner before he could hit the ground.
For a moment, the duo exchanged a look—an unspoken conversation passing between them. Their expressions shifted from amusement to disbelief, their grins replaced by something darker.
They had underestimated him. That much was clear. they had expected the puny boy to be easy to take out.
In fact they had taken out nothing less than 7 men since the riot began, and most of them were bigger and stronger than this boy.
Yet most of them had fallen in only two attacks.
Yet here was this boy, they had launched two attacks on him already and he was still fine, not only that but he had managed to hit them back, something no one else had done in years.
The second hulk made sure the first one was okay, the he turned to Lucian.
Lucian's chest heaved as he readied himself, his grip tightening on the femur. He had gambled on that strike, and it had paid off, but his advantage was fleeting. He didn't even get the chance to press forward.
The second man was already closing the gap.
Lucian tried to move out of range, but the distance was too short. The brute's massive arm swung in a wide arc, and Lucian barely had time to register the attack before it landed.
BAM!
The impact was devastating. The man's fist slammed into Lucian's side with the force of a battering ram. The world blurred as Lucian was lifted off his feet, his body twisting midair before it crashed into the cold, unyielding wall behind him.
A sharp pain erupted in his ribs as he slid to the ground, his legs trembling beneath him. He wheezed, gasping for air, but his lungs refused to cooperate. Every breath felt like fire in his chest, and he was sure he had broken at least two ribs.
"Ughh…" he groaned, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the riot.
But there was no time to recover. The first man, his limp barely noticeable through his seething rage, was already advancing again. His heavy footsteps echoed ominously, each step reverberating through the metal floor.
Lucian's vision swam, the edges darkening as he tried to push himself up. The femur was still in his hand, but his grip was weak, the jagged edges slick with his own sweat.
The first man stood over him now, his injured leg dragging slightly but it only made his eyes blaze with anger.