Crail was strong. He was stronger than his parents ever were, finally breaking them out of the low-tier life. He was a gift from god to them, their saving grace.
Crail was Strong, He was stronger than these low-tiers scrambling around, all meek and subservient. He could walk the halls with his head held high. Because he was strong.
Crail was Strong, His friends were strong, and together, they were stronger than an Elite-Tier, if they fought one together? He thinks that they would win.
Wellston was perfect for him, the strong trample over the weak. He did not have to do a single piece of homework yet, simply give his to a low-rank and threaten them to finish it by tomorrow. That's how it has always been in Wellston, all under their king's rule, under the Hierarchy in this highschool. The Weak obey the Strong,
So why is this scum not listening to him?
"I don't think I heard you correctly, the fuck did you just say?" Crail's ears must not be working, because he almost thought this nobody just said-
"No! I said I am not doing your homework anymore Crail!" He must have gone insane. Clearly he had to be checked in a mental hospital of some sort. Did he not know what would happen if he didn't comply? Surely he knew, or maybe Crail had beat him so many times he'd forgotten.
"Want to run that by me again?" Crail activated his ability. He felt the empowerment of his aura, the convergence of power on his right fist.
"You heard the lad peppermint, he aint doing your fucking homework. Maybe try actually paying attention in class?" A deep-voice spoke behind him, and Crail allowed fear to grip his heart until he turned to look at who it was. His anger pushed the feeling of fear into a bottle, never to be seen again. He was fearless. Crail was strong, he had nothing to fear from-
"... Well, if it isn't a coward." Crail slowly turned around and prepared to look up for a bit. He'd surely knock him down so he could gaze at his beaten body more comfortably. "Huh? No friend to back you today? Must be your unlucky day."
"Yo! Roland, Proud of you for standing up for yourself, you can go to class, bud. I have this one handled." Roland used to be a soft-spoken spineless low-tier until this idiot and his friend – or twin brother, or something – showed up. For the first week there was no change, but recently, he's begun to talk back because their dorms are near one another. That little rat Roland quickly scurried off, he will catch him after he deals with this trash.
This was this fool's unlucky day however, his little friend, Azazel seemed to not be around to help him.
"So, Crayon. You still using your hooker to force people to do what you want?"
Crail didn't entertain him, he went straight for a right hook to the chin. He dashed forward and threw his punch. The bastard's body did that ugly thing again, where it bulked up slightly and a black red aura started glowing from his eyes, it was there again, in his eyes, that look of utter disappointment.
"–?!" Crail felt something hit the back of his head, a sharp and dull pain shivered down his body, travelling from his head all the way to his toes. He felt his body become unresponsive as his aura flickered on and off. His vision became all white for a split second as he caught himself mid fall. His blurred vision recovered quickly, and all he saw was… a knee?
He was sent back and immediately struck on the front of the face. He was sent against the lockers, then kicked on the stomach. It was a relentless barrage of attacks that clearly came from two people. He knew he was seeing double, but why was he seeing Vritra four times? And why were some of his doubles using pipes? Every time he recovered, something would strike his head with great force again, making his ears ring and his vision turn white again. His whole body felt like it was on fire.
"More to the left! Remember, one two, punch, kick. One two punch, kick!" He was speaking like this was dance class, and Crail was the dance-mat. Crail didn't like being the dance mat. Crail liked dancing. He didn't like being danced on. There was a moment during his beating, where he lost sensation of his body, and there was only unpleasantness followed by pushing and shoving him into a cold surface. That's when he finally understood, Azazel had joined in.
It felt endless, he must have been there for minutes, nay, hours. Were the Royals not going to step in? Were the higher tiers not going to step in? These were low-tier scum beating Crail up. The only reason they could begin with was because one of them snuck him, and then joined in to beat him up. Anyone who was anyone could do that.
For an instant, they stopped, and he caught his bearings. He looked up and saw the clock on the back of one of the classrooms.
"One minute?" Then the beating began again. Their dancing became more refined, more elegant, and faster. They were doing a Waltz before, now it was Disco Dancing. The kicks and punches were sharper, and more efficient, and it felt like his skin had adapted to their feet so it would just go right into place. The punches synched up, and they hurt a lot more.
"Aight, this should be good enough… Ama break a leg."
"Why'd you get to break the leg? I'm the one who kept him out."
"You get the other one stupid."
"No, because the Doc will break our legs next time he sees us. One leg."
"Fine… I will get the wrist."
"... Whatever, just break his leg. I'll get the next one."
"Thanks G, love you. No Homo."
Crail thought that was it, when the pain stopped and his bearings slowly returned, when his lungs were allowed to take in breath. He couldn't move his right leg, his bruised eye had been clearly hit so it became swollen to reduce visibility, and despite not having too many broken bones, most of his felt fractured. Speaking was hard, that pipe had jagged ends and they cut his lip, swelling them like balloons. As he tried speaking, he felt his spit and blood spray out. No coherent sentences would be coming out of his mouth for a few days.
"Oh suck it up Calcium, this is barely what you do to most of the Low-Tiers you bully." He heard Vritra's voice again, his annoying, ear grating voice. He was not afraid. The shaking was from the beating they had just delivered. "Now, Right or left?"
He couldn't speak, only make grunts and pained squeals as he slowly pushed himself away from both of them. They were crazy and psychotic. He was already down.
"Urhgh awewi Oon (I'm already down)" He raised his hand and asked them to stop.
"The fuck is that, Jamaican? Me No Ablo Jamaican dude." Vritra's oversized hand was scratching his face. Crail noticed what looked like scales under his eyes.
"That's Spanish. I never bothered learning lip reading…" Azazel grinned while looking away, Crail's swollen lip probably looked like an eggplant, "but I think he wants us to stop. No good will come from going any further, and it's not necessarily fun either." Azazel hid his pipe inside his blazer, putting it down his pants.
"Uhuh, and when he goes after Roland? We won't be able to eat his cake Az." Vritra frowned, and sent a condescending look Crail's way.
"I'm more of a candy guy myself." Azazel yawned, stretching himself, "You have a point… but what about after he heals?"
"Hmmm… Ama just ask Roland." Vritra pulled our a cracked phone and quickly punched the numbers in.
"Do what you want Gecko, I'm late to skipping class."
"Sure, Sure, you fucking Joker, go and cheat on another game." And the call connected. "Give me a second Roland, be right with you."
"Talk to me when you get number one in exam scores."
"Dude, come talk to me when you don't need your ability to tell you how to wipe your own ass."
"Cry about it. I was born better, that's all there is to it. Whine to the stars and pray for comfort."
"You were born so wrong that god had to give you an assist, don't toot your own horn."
"I'll toot whatever I want, that's my right as a superior being"
"Pause?"
"... Get your mind out of the gutter. Go punch that hooker into Doc's office or something"
"...Does your ability tell you how to crank your joystick perfectly?"
"You know what, it doesn't have to. I have your mother for that." He began walking away.
"Hah! Jokes on you! My mother's dead!"
"... Fuck you."
"Gaaaay. But see you on the Rooftop bro!"
"You're dragging it…" His walk was lazy, and sluggish, as if he'd been working the entire day. He yawned and grabbed his phone from inside his pocket. These two… did know they were low-tiers right? They were worms.
"Anywho, sorry for keeping you waiting, Roland." Vritra returned his attention back to Crail, and a wide grin set on his features, showing his now elongated fangs. "I have our dear old buddy and pal Crail. I was wondering, should I break both his arms and legs, only legs, only arms, or one limb? It's up to you as the Victim to choose." A slow and sinking dread set itself in Crail's stomach. He was not escaping this, Roland would probably choose the worst one just to get revenge on him!
"I-I don't feel comfortable choosing one Vritra." Roland's voice echoed through the speaker. "D-Did you guys beat him up?" Crail clenched his fists, he would clench his teeth but the inside of his gums were so swollen, they prevented him from closing his mouth too far without biting and hurting himself.
"Huh? Oh yeah, big time. Dude can barely walk away from me." Vritra slowly lost the smile on his face. And those unnerving slit eyes seemed to look right through Crail's soul.
"T-Then that's good enough. You don't have to do anything." Crail's clenched fists now dug into his skin. This was humiliating, having to wait for judgment delivered by Low-Tiers. He doubted he could face any of his colleagues again.
"You sure? I can at least make him not be able to harm you for a couple of weeks." Vritra lightly blew in the air, and embers flickered out of his mouth. "Maybe that's what I should do, make sure he can't harm any of you guys for a while."
"V-Vritra, you said I can choose what happens to him right? As the Victim?"
"Oh absolutely buddy, just say what you want done with him."
"Leave him off the hook this time… I-If that's okay with you of course."
Crail waited for the verdict while inching away from the distracted Vritra, trying to escape the mountain that would undoubtedly fall on him if he didn't keep to his words. Was Vritra always this tall?
"..." The silence was deafening to Crail. He hated this feeling of weakness, how he had to wait for someone else to decide his fate for him. "Sure bud, ama stop right here."
Vritra's voice got lower as his face inched closer to the Crail. "You hear that Crail? You got off, because Roland is a good person. Would you have done the same for him?"
The answer to that question was indubitably no, but Crail had neither the energy, nor the courage to say so.
Two light taps to his cheek were the last things he felt before everything turned black.