Thud.
A fist slammed into Rocket's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. He choked, doubling over, but before he could suck in a breath
Crack!
A knee smashed into his ribs. His body jerked sideways, crashing onto the cold wooden floor. His head bounced off the ground, sending a sharp shock through his skull. For a moment, everything blurred. His ears rang. His arms twitched uselessly at his sides.
Laughter echoed above him.
"Not so tough now, huh?"
Rocket coughed, blood pooling in his mouth. He tried to push himself up
Thud.
A boot came down hard on his back, pinning him in place.
Breathe. His mind screamed at him. Breathe, damn it.
He sucked in air through clenched teeth, ribs burning with every inhale. Another kick slammed into his side, sending his body rolling like a ragdoll. His vision flickered. He didn't even see the second boy move before
A hand yanked his hair, forcing his head up.
Rocket winced but managed to glare at his attacker through swollen, half-lidded eyes.
The green-haired boy smirked. "You sucker orphan."
His fist snapped forward.
Punch!
Rocket's head jerked back. Blood splattered the wooden floor beneath him.
The green-haired boy wiped his knuckles and sneered. "You know why Boss never did anything to you? Even after seeing you with Miss Tessa?"
He yanked Rocket's hair tighter before shoving his head down.
"Because even acknowledging you would've been disgusting. He wasn't mad. He wasn't jealous. You weren't even worth getting angry over."
The yellow-haired boy standing nearby laughed. "Yeah. That'd be like getting jealous over a dog being patted by its owner. But you?"
His grin widened. "You're worse than a dog."
Another sharp kick to Rocket's ribs. His body curled instinctively, but there was no mercy here.
The yellow-haired boy scoffed, shaking his head. "Do you even know the kind of family she comes from?"
He leaned closer, voice dripping with mockery.
"Her parents? A-rank Hunters. Her grandparents? Also A-rank. Their whole bloodline is filled with elites, two generations of nothing but power."
He clicked his tongue, amusement flickering in his eyes. "And you?"
He let the question hang for a moment before laughing.
"An orphan. Not even one left at an orphanage just thrown onto the streets like trash."
Laughter rippled between them.
The green-haired boy nudged his friend, grinning. "And that name what was it again?" He sneered. "Rocket Sucker? Hah! Who the hell comes up with something like that?"
His laughter sharpened. "Must've been some real artistic genius, huh?"
Rocket didn't laugh.
He didn't even flinch.
But in his swollen, bloodshot eyes there was something else.
A quiet sadness. A flicker of nostalgia.
Yeah. That name.
A homeless old man had given it to him. The same man who had raised him, fed him, clothed him who never once told him where he had found him.
The only person who had ever treated him like he mattered.
And that name
That was the only thing Rocket had left of him.
It was the only thing that was his.
And it was important.
Punch!
His head jerked back. He barely even grunted.
The yellow-haired boy grinned, watching Rocket struggle to keep himself upright. "You really thought you were special?"
The taller boy leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That a noble girl Tessa, of all people would choose you?"
He clicked his tongue. "You were never her boyfriend. You were her toy."
The green-haired boy crouched again, voice mocking. "Holding hands? Getting fed like a pet? You actually thought that meant something?"
His grin widened. "Nah. You weren't her lover. You were her pet."
The words cut deeper than the fists.
Tessa's pet.
Rocket's face remained impassive, even as blood trickled from his split lip.
They didn't know.
They didn't know.
She had confessed to him, again and again, told him to trust her, to think of her as his girlfriend.
She was lovely. Kind. Trustworthy.
She wouldn't lie.
She wouldn't
Crack!
A fist slammed into Rocket's cheek. His body jolted, but another hand fisted in his black hair, holding him in place.
His face was swollen. Lips cracked. Blood dripped freely, staining his clothes. His left eye barely opened, vision reduced to a blur.
Still
A grin crept onto his broken face.
Rocket's lips moved.
A barely audible whisper escaped his bloodied mouth.
"Sof-!"
The green-haired boy froze, his grip still tight in Rocket's hair.
"Hah?" He tilted Rocket's head, yanking it closer. "What was that? You begging?"
Rocket's breath was ragged. Weak. His vision blurred.
But his broken lips curled slightly, just enough to form a smirk.
"Soft."
Silence.
The green-haired boy's face twitched. "What?"
Rocket forced out a chuckle more of a breath than a laugh, but the mockery was there.
"You guys are too soft." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "A drunk in the slums is healthier than you."
Then
Spit.
A glob of blood-mixed saliva landed on the green-haired boy's cheek.
A vein bulged in his forehead. His jaw clenched. His entire face twisted in fury.
"You filthy bastard."
His grip on Rocket's hair tightened before he suddenly let go, letting Rocket's battered body slump to the ground.
Then, his boot crashed into Rocket's face.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
And again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Rocket barely moved, barely reacted. His arms weakly tried to shield himself, but there was no strength left to resist.
The green-haired boy panted, rage shaking his frame as he kept kicking, his foot slamming down over and over.
"Die, you disgusting piece of shit!"
His voice cracked with anger. He wanted Rocket to scream, to break, to beg. But Rocket didn't. He just lay there, barely breathing, barely conscious yet still grinning.
Laughter.
A chuckle echoed from the side.
The yellow-haired boy smirked, stepping forward. "Relax, Sam. It's just spit. No need to lose your mind over it."
Sam the green-haired boy snapped his head toward him, breathing hard.
"Shut the hell up, you yellow shit. Say that again, and I'll~!"
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down, rolling his shoulders as he stepped back. His hands twitched at his sides.
Lio the yellow-haired boy grinned, crouching down next to Rocket's bloody, beaten body.
Rocket lay there, arms weakly covering his face, skin torn and bruised, blood dripping from his swollen lips.
Lio leaned in, his voice casual. "Yoiii, Sucker. You must be wondering why we came to beat you today, huh?"
His tone was almost amused. Almost.
Sam stood behind Lio, fists still clenched, rage still bubbling just beneath the surface.
But Rocket?
Rocket didn't answer.
He stayed silent not out of pride, but because he knew better.
Talking meant more beatings. Talking meant giving these motherfuckers the satisfaction of hearing him struggle, of watching him break.
No. Let them beat him. Let them waste their energy. After a while, they'd get bored and leave.
Lio sighed dramatically. "Not saying anything? Tsk. What was I even expecting?"
A glint flickered in his eyes, something cruel. Something excited.
"Well, let me tell you myself then. Must be a real shock, huh? No one laid a hand on you for six months while you were with Tessa, but today suddenly, they're all over you."
Rocket remained still.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't need to.
He knew the truth better than anyone.
Did beatings need a reason? No. He knew why they happened. Because he was weak. Because he was scared. Because he had no power.
That was the only reason.
The world had no consequences for hurting someone like him. No one would stop it. No one would care.
And what could he do? Nothing.
It was his problem that he was weak.
His problem that he was afraid of Awakening.
Rocket clenched his teeth, his bruised fingers curling weakly against the floor.
He was different from the others.
They had the privilege of safety awakening capsules. They had the money, the background, the security.
He had none of that.
Even the government wouldn't waste resources on someone like him someone with no connections, no profit. Just another risky factor.
And the alternative?
The unsafe Awakening.
The one where your soul was thrown into the trial world with no protection.
The one where you either survived or died.
Seventy-six percent didn't make it out. Two out of three.
That meant most people never woke up again.
Rocket was scared.
Scared of dying
And before, that fear had been manageable.
Because before, he had nothing to lose.
He had survived this hellish world, clawing his way through the slums and filthy streets. He had endured hunger, pain, and the kind of suffering that no one cared to witness.
All that struggle, all that survival just to die now?
Only he knew the painful nights he had endured.
Nights where his body ached from beatings that left him barely able to move.
Nights where he had been kicked, stomped, and left bleeding in the gutter after seven grown men had beaten him for daring to steal a single piece of bread.
Just to live.
Just to see another day.
And yet after all that now he was supposed to accept death?
No.
He didn't suffer through all of that just to throw his life away now.
It wasn't just some vague fear it was a deep, paralyzing terror of dying.
And before, that fear had been manageable.
Because before, he had nothing to lose.
But if it came down to it
If there was no other choice
He could risk it.
Risk his life.
Because if there was even a chance a single chance for something better, for something brighter
Then wasn't it worth it?
Hadn't he already spent his life gambling against death?
But this time, it wouldn't just be for survival.
It would be for a future.
But now
Now, he had Tessa.
The thought of dying and leaving her alone made his soul tremble.
So, he worked. He pushed himself, grinding through part-time jobs, saving every coin he could.
Because the safety awakening capsule was his only chance.
If something went wrong in the trial, the capsule would pull his soul back. It would protect him.
It was the only way he could keep living.
He wasn't ready to die.
Not when he finally had something someone worth living for.
Not when he finally had her.
Rocket's mind kept flickering back and forth, do it, don't do it.
Take the risk. Awaken.
Or don't.
He was afraid. Too afraid to decide for himself.
He wished he had parents. Someone anyone who could make the choice for him. Someone to tell him what to do.
At least then, he wouldn't feel so clueless. So hopeless.
"Listen, you motherfucker, what the hell are you daydreaming about now?!"
A voice snapped him back to reality.
Thud!
Pain exploded in his stomach.
Sam's boot slammed into him with fury, spitting words between clenched teeth.
"You think she's coming to save you now?!"
Rocket choked, body convulsing as he spat blood onto his arms, which were still shielding his face. His head remained down, resting against the cold wooden floor.
"She won't."
Leo chuckled.
"Because she's on a date with Boss today."
His voice was light, amused, enjoying every second of Rocket's suffering.
"Why do you think we're here? Because she's his now. And Boss? He decides everything for her."
Rocket didn't move. Didn't flinch.
She doesn't need any pet now.
The words dug into his skin, into his soul, but he refused to react.
Instead, he chuckled.
A weak, broken laugh.
"Haha cheap tricks, dude. Maybe try using your legs instead of your words."
His voice was muffled under his arms, hoarse but defiant.
Sam's eyes twitched in rage. His foot rose again, ready to stomp Rocket's face into the floor.
"This whore bastard!"
"Wait."
Leo raised a hand, stopping him.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
"Ahh, don't be like that. Let's show him something fun."