Kruel looked at the paper, the one Grayt had given him. His fingers gripped it too tightly, creasing the edge. It wasn't much, just an address scribbled in Grayt's messy handwriting. No name, no note. Just an unspoken dare. He had decided. He was going to Grayt. Not to fight him, but to learn. If there really was a weakness hidden somewhere in him, he had to become stronger before anyone else discovered it. He had seen Grayt fight before...more than once. The boy moved like muscle and storm. Confident. Grinning. He always won. As far as Kruel knew, Grayt had never lost a fight, and yet he was still ranked second among the strongest boys at Wincher Lisa High. Second. Whoever was first was someone Kruel wasn't ready to meet yet.
The address led him to the city's banking district. It was a strange place for someone like Grayt to operate, this close to security patrols and police cameras. The building was unfinished, squatting between glass towers like a broken tooth in a perfect smile. Only the first floor was partly complete. The rest was just bare concrete and rusted iron rods clawing at the sky. It didn't look like somewhere anyone should go. Which made it exactly the kind of place Grayt would be. Kruel tightened his jacket, checked the street behind him, and walked toward the building.
The door was locked. No one answered when he knocked. He stood still, heartbeat loud in his ears. Then he noticed a shattered window to the side, just wide enough to slip through. He checked the sidewalks again, no police, no witnesses, and climbed inside. The air was heavy with dust and old smoke. It felt like walking into the echo of a party. Chairs were knocked over, broken glass littered the ground, cigarette packs and lighters lay scattered. It even had the faint office-like presence of rusted file cabinets in the corner. It looked like people had been chased away, and recently.
Kruel's eyes swept the shadows. It was silent. Too silent. He swallowed.
WHACK!!!
Pain didn't come...but the force jolted his head sideways. He stumbled, crashed to the floor, and blinked up at three figures looming over him. They were big. Heavy. Sleeveless black jackets with a red stitched emblem on their backs. Their arms were thick with muscle and scars. Each of them held a club-like weapon.
Kruel's stomach dropped. Fear lanced through him, sharp and cold. Ever since his talk with Jessica, the thought had been gnawing at him: what if he could be hurt? What if he wasn't invincible after all? He had never felt this kind of fear before. That old certainty he wore like armor was cracking.
"So this is the kid?" one of them said with a chuckle.
Kruel tried to push himself up. His hands slipped on dust.
"Yeah," another replied. "Looks smaller in person."
"Whatever. Tie him up."
One grabbed him from behind. Another pulled a coil of rope. Kruel twisted and shoved, but they were stronger. They slammed him down on a table. The rope bit into his wrists as they tied him tight, ankles and chest too. The rope smelled like oil. The table creaked.
"Job right now," the leader said, stepping closer. He had pale, unblinking eyes. "Is to uncover his weakness. If we can… we go after the others."
Kruel's eyes widened. Others?
Then the first blow landed.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The clubs slammed against him...arms, legs, shoulders. Each strike echoed through the room like gunshots. They hit harder, faster, again and again.
His body didn't even flinch. But his mind did. His mind screamed.
They don't know. They don't realize the hits aren't doing anything. But if they keep going… what if they figure it out? What if there actually is something that could break him? What if they're about to find it?
His heart raced, faster and faster. His breath came shallow and fast. He yanked at the ropes. No give. His body didn't tremble from pain but from raw panic. He could hear the thud of the clubs, but it all sounded far away. Blurry. Like being underwater.
Dark spots crept at the edges of his vision. The room spun. His thoughts broke apart like glass. Everything went muffled. Somewhere, faintly, he heard something.
"K is…""K is… for…"
The sentence dissolved before he could hear the rest.
Then...nothing.
Silence. Heavy.