POW. POW. POW.
Fists slammed into the punching bag. Sweat dripped from Alias' brow as the leather groaned under the force. The gym echoed with the rhythmic impact of every hit.
On the bench nearby, Lucas leaned back, arms crossed, an unopened water bottle resting on his knee.
Lucas: "I thought we were done with fighting?"
Alias: (breathing heavy) "No escaping it now. We basically run East University."
Lucas: "Yeah, but I'm tired of getting my ass handed to me by your sister. You know that?"
Alias: (smirking) "Maeve's the only person alive who can beat you with words and hands."
SLAM!
The gym door burst open. Warren marched in, two paper bags in hand and a triumphant grin on his face.
Warren: "Food's here, boys."
Lucas: (already standing) "Yes. Finally. Let's eat—"
Warren: "Uh uh, hold on, not so fast. Rules are rules."
Lucas: "What rules? You just made that up!"
Alias: (grabbing a towel) "Let me take a quick shower first."
Lucas: (groaning) "Oh come on, I'm starving!"
As they bickered, the gym door creaked open again.
But this time, it wasn't someone they knew.
A lone figure stepped inside—slender frame, buzz cut, dark eyes sharp like blades. He looked around the gym with casual disinterest, like he was sizing up an old, broken machine.
Alias: (drying his face) "May we help you?"
The guy didn't answer. He walked toward them slowly.
Random Guy: "So… you're the ones who run East University?"
Lucas: (frowning) "Excuse me?"
Without warning, the guy threw a lightning-quick punch.
WHIFF!
Lucas barely dodged it, stumbling back in shock.
Lucas: "What the hell?!"
The stranger grinned, his posture relaxed but dangerous.
Random Guy: "So you're the one I keep hearing about. Guess the rumors were half right."
Alias, Lucas, and Warren immediately shifted their stance—no more jokes, no more hunger. They were in fight mode.
But it was already too late.
⸻
Minutes Later —
The gym was in shambles.
Alias lay groaning near the benches, clutching his ribs.
Warren sat slumped against the wall, blood running from his nose.
Only Lucas remained standing—his breathing ragged, his shirt torn, sweat and blood dripping from his chin. His fists were still up, but barely.
Across from him stood the stranger. Calm. Untouched. Not even a bruise on his face.
Lucas: (panting) "Who… the hell are you?"
The guy didn't answer. He just tilted his head, amused.
Random Guy: "Not important."
With one last step forward, he raised his fist—
WHAM!
⸻
End of Chapter 14