The city had returned to its usual routine after the terrifying attack, though an undercurrent of tension still lingered in the air. The morning sun cast golden rays over the towering buildings of Base City 17 as Rehan made his way to school. Despite the destruction from the previous day, life carried on. Vendors resumed their business, children played in the secured zones, and warriors patrolled the streets with sharp eyes.
Rehan stepped through the school gates, his heart still heavy with the memory of the battle. He had seen power—true power—and he craved it. But for now, he was just a student.
"Rehan! Over here!" A familiar voice called out.
Turning his head, Rehan spotted his best friend, Kian, waving at him with a grin. Kian was slightly taller, his short brown hair messy as usual, his eyes filled with mischief. Unlike Rehan, who constantly dreamed of becoming a warrior, Kian was more relaxed about everything.
"Man, did you see the fight? A Spirit Master! I still can't believe it!" Kian said as he fell into step beside Rehan.
"Yeah… it was unbelievable." Rehan clenched his fists unconsciously. "One day, I'll be like that."
Kian chuckled. "Well, first, let's survive math class."
The morning classes were routine, filled with the usual drone of teachers and the whispers of students passing notes. But as the bell rang for the afternoon break, trouble found its way to Rehan.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure blocked the hallway—Rudra, the class tyrant. His lips curled into a sneer as he cracked his knuckles.
"Hey, runt. I heard you've been acting cocky lately," Rudra spat. "Think you're something special just because you survived a monster attack?"
Rehan sighed, uninterested in entertaining the fool. But when Rudra reached out to grab him, Rehan moved first.
His fist shot out, smashing into Rudra's face with a sickening crunch. The impact sent the tyrant flying backward, crashing against the lockers. Gasps echoed through the hallway as students froze in shock.
Rudra groaned, wiping blood from his nose. He glared at Rehan but didn't retaliate. Instead, he spat on the ground and growled, "You'll regret this."
Rehan didn't even spare him a second glance.
After school, as expected, Rudra made his move. The moment Rehan stepped into a secluded alley on his way home, five hooligans jumped out, surrounding him. Their eyes gleamed with malice, metal rods and daggers in their hands.
"You thought you could get away with that, huh?" Rudra smirked from the shadows.
Rehan exhaled sharply. "You brought company? Smart move. Won't make a difference."
The first thug lunged at him, swinging a rod. Rehan sidestepped and countered with a sharp elbow to the man's ribs. Another charged, only to be met with a brutal kick to the knee, sending him collapsing in agony. Within moments, Rehan was a blur of motion—dodging, countering, striking with precision.
By the time he was done, the alley was filled with groaning bodies.
Rehan dusted his hands off, barely breaking a sweat. But he wasn't the only one watching.
Perched on a nearby rooftop, a man observed the fight with keen interest. He was a Level 4 warrior, one of the prominent figures in charge of the school's security district. His deep-set eyes analyzed every movement, his sharp mind calculating Rehan's potential.
"Interesting… a mere student with a rare battle sense," he murmured to himself. "His power is barely 700 kg, but his instincts are beyond his level."
The warrior pondered for a moment.
"A Level 1 warrior has about 1,000 kg of punching power. A Level 2? 5,000 kg. Level 3 reaches 10,000 kg. But Level 4... that's where the real difference starts. With 40 tons of force, a Level 4 warrior is a being beyond the primary ranks."
He leaned forward slightly. "And above that, the gap widens further. A Level 5 warrior has 80 tons of power, Level 6 reaches 120. But Level 7… that's where the advanced warriors stand apart. 250 tons of strength. Then Level 8 reaches 500, and Level 9—800 tons."
His eyes locked onto Rehan once more. "This boy… he has potential."
After the fight, Rehan finally made his way home. His house was small, old, and worn by time, but to him, it was home. Stepping inside, the familiar scent of home-cooked food welcomed him.
"You're late again," his elder sister, Aisha, called from the kitchen. She was in university, studying among normal humans. Unlike Rehan, she had no desire for battle. "You didn't get into trouble again, did you?"
Rehan smiled. "Just school stuff."
His father, a rugged man with calloused hands, entered the room, placing his work tools down. "You're pushing yourself too hard, son. We may not be rich, but we're happy. You don't have to fight all the time."
Rehan met his father's gaze. "I have to get stronger."
His mother, a kind woman with tired eyes, approached and cupped his face. "Just don't lose yourself in the process. Strength is important, but family is, too."
Rehan nodded, warmth spreading through his chest. They were poor, but they had each other.
And soon, he would be strong enough to protect them all.