The café was nestled at the corner of a bustling street, its warm amber lights spilling out onto the cobblestones outside. The air smelled of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries, mingling with the faint chill of the evening breeze. Lanark adjusted his jacket nervously as he stepped through the glass doors, scanning the room.
There she was.
Clair sat by the window, her golden hair catching the light like strands of sunlight. She wore a soft, cream-colored sweater that hugged her frame elegantly, and her delicate fingers played absentmindedly with the rim of her coffee cup. Her beauty wasn't just physical—it radiated from her every movement, her every smile. She could make any man stop in his tracks, and Lanark still couldn't believe she'd chosen him.
"Lanark!" Clair's face lit up as she waved him over.
His heart skipped a beat at her smile. He hurried to the table, awkwardly smoothing his jacket.
"Hey, Clair," he said, his voice betraying both his nervousness and excitement.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You look tense. Big plans for tonight?"
Lanark chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "No big plans. Just... wanted to spend some time with you."
"Well, mission accomplished," Clair said with a playful grin. "Now sit down before you draw more attention to yourself."
Lanark obeyed, sliding into the seat across from her. They spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing. Clair told him about her latest work at the virtual design studio, her eyes lighting up as she described her projects. Lanark listened intently, enchanted by her passion.
In turn, he shared his struggles in *War Zone*. He hesitated at first—his recent failures weren't exactly inspiring—but Clair's encouragement was unwavering.
"You're better than you think, Lanark," she said, leaning forward. "I've seen how hard you work. You'll get there."
Her words were a balm to his bruised confidence.
As they finished their coffees, Clair glanced at her watch. "The night's still young. How about a walk?"
Lanark nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I'd like that."
They stepped out into the crisp night air, the city alive with lights and distant chatter. Clair looped her arm through his, and for a moment, Lanark felt invincible.
---
The quiet alley they turned into was a shortcut, one Lanark had used many times before. But tonight, it felt different. A group of figures loomed ahead, their laughter echoing off the walls.
Lanark's stomach sank as he recognized them.
Druwel stood at the center, his towering frame and signature smirk unmistakable. His group of followers—other top-ranked Gamers—flanked him, their confident postures a testament to their elite status.
"Well, well," Druwel drawled, his eyes landing on Lanark. "If it isn't the weakest link in *War Zone*. And… what do we have here?"
His gaze shifted to Clair, and Lanark felt her tense beside him.
"Druwel," Lanark said, forcing his voice to remain steady. "We're just passing through."
Druwel stepped forward, his smirk widening. "Passing through? You're acting like you own the place, showing off with a girl like her on your arm."
Lanark clenched his fists, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Leave her out of this."
"Oh, but she's the most interesting part," Druwel said, his tone mocking. "What's a beauty like her doing with a failure like you?"
The words hit harder than any weapon in *War Zone*. Clair tightened her grip on Lanark's arm, her voice calm but firm. "We don't want trouble. Let's just go."
Druwel chuckled. "Oh, I'm not causing trouble. I'm just stating the obvious. Clair, right? You could do so much better."
Lanark stepped in front of Clair, his voice rising. "I said leave her out of this!"
The laughter from Druwel's group grew louder.
"What are you going to do, Lanark?" Druwel asked, his tone dripping with disdain. "Challenge me? You can't even handle a Terim without breaking a sweat."
The taunt stung, but Lanark didn't back down. "This isn't *War Zone*. Just let us go."
Druwel's smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "You think I need *War Zone* to put you in your place?"
Before Lanark could react, Druwel shoved him hard. He stumbled backward, barely catching his balance. Clair gasped, stepping forward, but Druwel's group blocked her path.
"Stay back," Lanark said quickly, his eyes locked on Druwel.
The first punch came without warning, a brutal hook to Lanark's jaw that sent him sprawling to the ground. He tasted blood as Druwel loomed over him, his fists clenched.
"Pathetic," Druwel muttered. "How does it feel to always lose?"
Lanark struggled to his feet, his vision spinning. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Maybe you should be," Druwel said before landing another blow, this one to Lanark's stomach. He doubled over, the air knocked out of him.
"Stop it!" Clair shouted, her voice filled with anger and fear.
Druwel glanced at her, his smirk returning. "Don't worry, Clair. I'll make sure he gets home safely… eventually."
Lanark forced himself up again, his body screaming in protest. He knew he couldn't win, but he refused to stay down.
Druwel's group erupted into jeers and laughter as Lanark lunged at him, only to be shoved back effortlessly. The humiliation burned worse than the pain.
"Enough!" Clair's voice cut through the chaos. She stepped between Lanark and Druwel, her eyes blazing. "You've made your point. Let's go, Lanark."
For a moment, Druwel hesitated, his smirk faltering as Clair glared at him. But as Lanark limped away with Clair's support, the mocking laughter followed them, echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of his failure.
---
The walk back to Clair's apartment was silent. Lanark's pride was shattered, and his body ached with every step. Clair's grip on his arm was gentle but firm, her expression unreadable.
When they reached her door, she finally spoke. "Lanark… are you okay?"
He nodded, though he knew she didn't believe him.
"You didn't have to fight him," she said softly. "You could've walked away."
Lanark looked down, his voice barely a whisper. "I couldn't let him talk about you like that."
Clair placed a hand on his cheek, her touch warm and comforting. "Lanark, I don't care what he says. I'm here because I want to be. But you need to believe in yourself first."
Her words were meant to soothe, but they only deepened the ache in his chest. He wanted to be stronger—for her, for himself—but tonight had shown him just how far he still had to go.
As she stepped inside and closed the door, Lanark turned away, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He had a long road ahead, but one thing was certain he wouldn't let this be the end.