The morning sun cast a golden hue over the school as Craige walked through the gates, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The entire campus was in an uproar over the scandal that had erupted in a neighboring school, with students buzzing about it in hushed whispers. But Craige paid no mind to the commotion. He simply made his way to his usual seat, slouched down, and closed his eyes, attempting to steal a few moments of sleep.
Just as he was drifting off, his senses flared. He could feel the shift in the air—the presence of someone approaching him with hostile intent. He didn't need to open his eyes to know what was coming. A fist, clumsy and weak, was hurtling toward him. Yet instead of dodging, Craige allowed it to make contact. The impact barely registered. It was a pathetic excuse for a punch.
A low chuckle escaped his lips as he finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the fool who dared to attack him.
"Hey, bastard," the guy sneered, rubbing his knuckles as if he had delivered something more than a tap. "I haven't heard any news about you lately, but have you forgotten to pay up? Where's my money?"
Craige stared at him, unimpressed. The guy looked like absolute trash—a useless thug who had probably spent more time bullying others than doing anything worthwhile. His clothes were disheveled, his breath reeked of cheap cigarettes, and his eyes carried the dullness of someone who had never worked a day in his life.
"Are you disabled or just plain stupid?" Craige taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "You've got a bulky body, yet you're too lazy to find a real job? If you want money, work for it, you pathetic bastard."
The insult struck a nerve. Craige could see the veins in his opponent's forehead pulsing as his face turned red with fury. The brute lunged at him, fingers curling around the fabric of Craige's shirt, but before he could do anything, Craige moved.
In a blink, the thug was airborne—then crashing onto the hard floor with a sickening thud. A sharp, unmistakable crack echoed through the classroom. The gasps of their classmates filled the air as they bore witness to the sheer force of Craige's strength.
Craige straightened, rolling his shoulders nonchalantly as he looked down at the guy writhing in pain.
"You thought you could lay a hand on me?" he scoffed. "Pathetic."
His muscles tensed, the result of years of relentless training. Every weight he had lifted, every hour he had spent honing his strength—it had all been worth it. And today, he had proven it.
As he turned back to his seat, the room remained silent. No one dared to challenge him.
Craige smirked.
Another day, another lesson taught.
Craige felt a pair of eyes on him, an unsettling sensation crawling down his spine. His instincts sharpened, and he turned his head swiftly, but whoever had been watching him had already disappeared. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the area for any sign of the mysterious figure.Deciding to ignore it for now, he continued on his way to the cafeteria. As always, he made sure to set aside some money for his younger siblings. They depended on him, and no matter how chaotic his life became, he would never fail in his duty to them. Just as he was about to reach the cafeteria doors, someone suddenly bumped into him, a forceful shove that felt intentional.
Craige's sharp reflexes kicked in, and his fingers instinctively brushed against his pocket—there was something there that hadn't been before. He slipped his hand in and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it, his eyes scanned the hastily written message:
"Come to the abandoned building, bastard. If you don't show up, we'll go after your younger sister."
His grip tightened around the note, crushing it in his palm. His blood boiled, his vision darkening with rage. Whoever had written this had just made the worst mistake of their lives.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. He barely paid attention in class, his thoughts solely focused on the upcoming confrontation. When the final bell rang, he wasted no time. With steady, determined steps, he made his way to the old abandoned building at the edge of town.
The moment he pushed open the rusted metal doors, a wave of men emerged from the shadows—fifty thugs, all standing in formation like a small army. At the far end of the room, sitting arrogantly on a broken chair, was the same guy Craige had humiliated earlier. A wicked grin stretched across the man's face; his bruises still visible from their last encounter.
Craige let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
"So, this is how you want to play it?" he scoffed. "Couldn't fight me on your own, so you spent your money hiring these low lives to do it for you? Pathetic."
The thug sneered. "I don't need to fight you myself when I can have fifty guys beat you to a pulp. Do you think you're untouchable? Let's see how well you handle this."
Craige smirked, rolling his shoulders as he took a step forward. "Fifty of you, huh?" His eyes gleamed with excitement. "Good. I was getting bored."
The first wave came at him fast—five men lunging in unison. Craige moved like a blur, ducking under a punch and driving his fist into a man's stomach with bone-crushing force. The thug collapsed instantly, retching from the impact. Another swung a metal pipe at him, but Craige caught it mid-air, yanking it free and using it to strike the attacker across the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.
It was a dance of violence, and Craige was the master. He weaved through the chaos with calculated precision, his fists connecting with jawbones, ribs, and limbs, each strike producing sickening cracks that echoed through the empty building. The pain-filled screams of his enemies were like a symphony, each note playing in harmony with his movements.
Blood splattered across the floor as bodies dropped one after another. Craige fought with the fury of a madman—no, like a god of war. His strength was unparalleled, his speed inhuman. He wasn't just fighting to win; he was fighting to make a statement.
As another thug lunged at him with a knife, Craige grabbed his wrist, twisting it until the blade clattered to the ground. With one swift motion, he sent the man crashing into a pile of crates. Another fool tried to take him by surprise from behind, but Craige spun around, delivering a devastating elbow to the attacker's face, knocking him unconscious instantly.
He was relentless. Unstoppable.
Thirty men down. Then forty. Then forty-five.
The ones still standing hesitated, their confidence crumbling as they realized they had underestimated their target. Craige, barely winded, wiped a trickle of blood from his lip and grinned.
"Is that all you've got?" he taunted, his voice laced with amusement.
Fear flashed in their eyes. The remaining few turned and bolted for the exit, leaving behind a pile of battered bodies groaning in pain.
Craige turned his gaze toward the man who had orchestrated this ambush. The thug was trembling now, all traces of arrogance gone. He scrambled to his feet, backing away as Craige slowly approached.
"You… you monster," he stammered, his voice shaking.
Craige chuckled darkly. "You should've thought about that before threatening my family."
The thug turned to run, but Craige was faster. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his fingers tightening around his throat.
"Now, let's talk about what happens when you mess with me."