At moments of critical danger, the human body produces what we call adrenaline—a state where the body becomes fully active, the mind sharply awakened, and instinct takes control, driven solely by the need to survive.
Brian's world slowed to a crawl. He watched his target carefully take position to strike. Without knowing why—or how—Brian hurled his dagger.
The blade flew in a perfect straight line.
The boy never realized what happened. Steel pierced cleanly through his forehead.
Before the body could even fall, Brian was already there. He grabbed the boy's dagger and surged forward. Two opponents rushed him—Brian passed between them, slicing their throats in one fluid motion.
Three lives ended in seconds.
Brian didn't realize he was in a trance. He didn't realize what he had done—until his body violently recoiled. His muscles screamed as pain flooded him. He spat blood and collapsed in front of the remaining three.
Brian blinked, teeth clenched as agony surged through him. As he looked up, a kick slammed into his face.
Crack.
A large, bulky girl with a vicious face stood over him. His nose shattered instantly. The other two joined her, kicking and punching him in blind fury.
"Bastard! You killed my brother!" one of the girls screamed, sobbing as she pummeled him.
Brian felt guilt—but then he remembered the girl they had been bullying. His teeth clenched harder.
"Damn you!" another girl shouted, raising her foot—
Suddenly, she froze.
A sharp pain exploded through her skull. She looked down in disbelief to see the wounded red-team girl stabbing her deep in a vital spot. She cursed and kicked the girl away, but stumbled back, barely staying upright.
Another enraged girl rushed forward, smashing punches into the red girl's face and sending her flying.
The stabbed girl collapsed to her knees, strength draining rapidly. Her vision darkened as she cursed weakly before falling motionless.
The last girl climbed atop the wounded red-team girl, punching her repeatedly in a frenzy.
Brian wouldn't allow it.
He forced himself up and charged the remaining girl. Grabbing her throat, he bit down—hard.
"What the—?!" she screamed.
Brian didn't stop. His teeth tore into her flesh as blood poured out. Her blows grew weaker as terror filled her eyes—like she was staring at a devil. Moments later, she died choking in his grip.
Behind him, the red girl was barely conscious. The last attacker raised her fist for a killing blow—
Thunk.
Her body stiffened, then collapsed.
The red girl looked up weakly. Brian wiped blood from his mouth. Behind him, a knife protruded from the blue girl's skull.
She stared at Brian's scarlet eyes, fear flashing through her—before they slowly faded back to black.
"Haa… haa…" Brian panted. "Are you okay?"
He immediately realized how stupid the question was. She clearly wasn't.
Brian dragged her against a wall. She had fainted—possibly in a coma—but she was alive. He didn't want to abandon her, yet he couldn't stay. His gaze shifted to the corpses around them.
After some time, Brian hid the bodies in a piled mound, concealing the unconscious red-team girl within.
He sighed. Please be enough.
Exhausted, he turned to leave—
DING!
An announcement echoed.
"Color Shuffle."
Brian froze. His red clothes instantly turned blue. He glanced back at the bodies—some shifted colors, others remained unchanged. His breathing grew uneven. He didn't want to know what color the girl had become.
He walked away.
A few minutes earlier…
WING!
Bang!
"Damn it! What is wrong with this girl?!" a blue-team boy shouted as his wrist was sliced open. He tried to fight back—it was useless. He fell, vision fading as screams erupted around him.
Two red-team boys watched the massacre in horror.
"Is she… one of those child soldiers?" the older one whispered.
His younger brother trembled. "She's a monster…"
Glory finished the group quickly. She glanced at the two boys, then ignored them and walked away.
"She's leaving," the younger brother whispered.
"Forget her," the elder said urgently. "We need distance—now. Find a hiding spot."
DING!
"Color Shuffle."
The elder brother looked up—confused.
"Brother?"
He looked down. His blood turned cold.
A blade sliced through the air where his brother had been standing seconds ago. He yanked his brother back just in time. When he looked up, Glory was charging toward them—still wearing red.
"Brother!" the younger cried.
"Run!" the elder shouted, shoving him away and charging Glory instead.
The younger boy turned and fled.
The elder attacked desperately. Glory dodged effortlessly, struck his chin, and kicked him aside. His body went limp as he crashed to the ground.
He struggled to rise, hand reaching out.
"DON'T TOUCH MY BROTHER!" he screamed.
Glory raised her blade, preparing to strike the fleeing child—
Bang!
She staggered backward, eyes snapping to the newcomer.
"Easy there," a playful voice said. "No need to act like a mad dog."
A golden-haired boy stood there, handsome and calm, flanked by two powerful figures. The type everyone adored—except Glory.
"I see," Glory said coldly. "Blue team… Dotta."
The younger brother stared up in shock. The elder forced himself to stand. His brother was safe—for now—but the tension only thickened.