Hmph, disgusting bastards, Bergius muttered under his breath as he strode through the forest.
They keep spouting nonsense, talking shit that isn't even true—but hey, thanks to that, my reputation's somehow skyrocketing. Popularity's a bitch, isn't it? he smirked.
Then he stopped. A flicker of movement caught his eye—a gap in the trees. The forest itself seemed to tense. Something, or someone, was coming. Fast. Dangerous.
Bergius' fingers tightened on the haft of his massive axe. Muscles coiled, stance ready.
This pressure… a monster? Teeth clenched, Bergius braced.
It's coming! His vision sharpened, tracking the movement like a predator locking onto prey.
And then it came.
A swing of his axe, aimed to split skulls, and… wait. It wasn't a monster. It was a kid.
The axe, huge enough to crush a grown man, crashed down toward Alex's head—and shattered. Shattered into fragments as if reality itself had rejected it. The backlash slammed Bergius backward, trees rattling violently as he skidded into the forest, branches snapping, leaves and dirt flying like a storm unleashed. Meanwhile, Alex kept running, feet barely touching the ground, body fluid and impossibly precise.
The fuck? Alex thought, barely suppressing a grin. That guy just tried to decapitate me with a damn siege weapon. Is he high? What, swinging a tree-sized axe at a kid—running—like it's Monday morning?
A pause.
Well… I'm not that different, I guess.
Elsewhere…
Rykard was slowly unbuttoning Jein's shirt when a sound from the forest made him pause. He glanced toward it, frowning.
"Hmm… what now?" he muttered. "Bergius can't contain himself that much, huh?" He barked toward the two men standing nearby. "Go fetch him, now."
Satisfied, he turned back to Jein, a sneer crawling across his face. "Well then… where was I?" Rykard spat as he slapped her hard across the cheek. "Wake up, bitch. How dare you make us wait?"
Jein's eyes fluttered open. Horror froze her as she realized how exposed she already was.
"Hmppphh!! Mmphh!!" She struggled, teeth clenching against the rope biting into her mouth, trying to resist.
"Yaa… this bitch," Rykard hissed, slapping her again. "Do you really want us to hear you scream? Not that we wouldn't enjoy it." He laughed, unzipping his pants with deliberate slowness.
Tears welled in Jein's eyes. Her body trembled, powerless.
"Look at this bitch crying," one of the men laughed.
"She was all tough earlier," another snickered.
Rykard leaned closer, voice dripping with mock politeness. "Well then… shall we have a feast?" He lunged toward her, hands reaching.
And then—
A hand shot out of nowhere. Faster than the eye could track, it caught Rykard's face, grabbing him like a vice. Blow after blow slammed him backward, forward, sideways, each one precise, brutal, unstoppable.
It was Alex. Barely containing the boiling madness inside him, seeing his sister like this, exposed and terrified, each second fueling a storm that could crush anyone in his path. The sheer audacity of Rykard and his men only poured more gasoline on that fire.
"Well then… shall we have a feast?" Alex whispered, leaning into Rykard's face as he yanked him forward. Their eyes met—Alex's blazing with pure, murderous intent, veins bulging across his forehead and temples, every fiber of him screaming for blood.
"You…" Alex spat the word like venom. "You dare touch my sister with your filthy hands?"
Before Rykard could react, Alex threw him like a ragdoll, slamming him into a tree.
Cough!!
Rykard's body hit the bark hard, splintering his breath, but he scrambled to sit up, his rage boiling over. "What are you all doing?! Kill him! Buy us some time until Bergius arrives!!"
All the men rushed straight toward Alex, blades raised, mouths screaming like idiots.
Alex just kept walking. Slowly. Like he was strolling through a park.
"It's just a kid!"
"Kill him!!"
Sure. That's exactly what I'd do too if I wanted to fail spectacularly.
The men struck at the same time. Blades descended in a deadly arc. Others tried to move, adjust, survive—but the moment their steel touched Alex… it didn't cut, it didn't scratch, it didn't even leave a mark. It shattered. Every single blade turned into useless shards. Instant smitherens.
Hup! Alex slammed his feet into the dirt, sending a shockwave rippling out. Men were thrown backward, smashing into trees, each other, and generally ruining their own day. Dust and rocks kicked into the air, swirling like a tiny storm around him.
Rocks floated into Alex's hands, suspended as if waiting for a command.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, voice flat, eyes scanning the mess, "add elasticity… yeah, enough to bounce. Then infuse hardness… like metal. Let's see what happens when science meets stupidity."
In a flash, he threw them.
They hit the ground, bounced, ricocheted, smashed into swinging blades, slammed into branches—and, most importantly, found the exact spot they were destined for.
One particularly unlucky man let out a shriek that could wake the dead.
"Guagghhhh!!"
Blood dripped into the dirt as he clutched himself, fully aware that nature was laughing at him.
Alex shook his head, unimpressed.
"People always say, You need balls to show you're a man," he muttered, stepping forward through the chaos. "Well, congratulations, gentlemen… you're not men. You're animals. Absolute, pathetic, screaming animals."
And with that, the game of rock-hit-jewels made its grand debut. Rocks bounced off the ground, off tree branches, and—most importantly—hit every single one of the men in their… ahem… personal collection.
Screams, curses, flailing limbs—it was beautiful.
Alex just grinned.
"Welcome to my physics lesson. Hope you studied."
Anyone unlucky enough to be there? Forget dodging—those rocks didn't negotiate. Not Rykard, not a single idiot with a pulse.
And anyone watching? Oh, they had just one verdict: a… ahem… bally masterpiece.
Miss one rock, and congratulations! The next one ricochets, curves, and homes in like a heat-seeking missile straight for your most delicate ASSets. One hit, and suddenly your "manhood" comes with a refund policy: completely void.
In just a matter of minutes, every single man lay unconscious, clutching their own shattered egos… and manhood.
"What the actual fuck happened here?!" Bergius roared, looking around at the carnage. Apparently, Alex's "rock-hit-jewels" wasn't done being a savage physics lesson—rocks ricocheted with terrifying precision, now hunting him and the two unfortunate flunkies who hadn't yet discovered the fine art of staying unconscious.
The rocks bounced, ricocheted, and hunted their targets like they had a vendetta. The two men still conscious weren't lucky—they'd already hit the "ahem… ball-breaking point" and gone out cold, hugging their family jewels like they owed them money.
A particularly spiteful rock bounced off a tree branch and came straight at Bergius. He gritted his teeth. "You dare toy with me?!" he shouted, punching the rock like sheer testosterone could solve a physics problem. Surprise! It did not. It bounced back, slammed him into a tree, and kept laughing at him in solid granite form.
"How… how the hell can a rock…" he wheezed, voice cracking. "Be this hard… and this springy…
And then it happened. Every ricochet converged, condensing into one unstoppable trajectory—aimed with surgical precision at one… solitary target.
Bergius's balls.
That day, Bergius screamed in a way that would haunt the forest for generations.
A faint text box appeared in front of Alex, almost polite in the way it delivered its message.
Warning: Rykard Westballs, a so-called human and full-time, ball-less disgrace, is currently attempting a quiet escape.
Alex's eyes burned the instant he saw him. His jaw clenched, veins bulging across his forehead as murderous intent spilled out unchecked. Slowly, deliberately, his gaze locked onto Rykard—who seemed genuinely convinced that crawling away like a dying insect counted as a successful escape.
Then—
BOOM!
The air itself slammed Rykard into the ground.
BOOM!
Another invisible weight crushed him down.
BOOM!
A third followed, heavier than the last, driving the breath from his lungs and smashing his face into the dirt. Each impact pressed him flatter, harsher, as if the world itself had decided it had enough of him.
Alex walked forward at an unhurried pace, boots crunching softly against the ground. He stopped just short of Rykard and looked down on him the way one might glance at trash clogging an alleyway.
"You really thought crawling like a rabid dog would save you?" Alex said calmly.
"Does mimicking a pathetic insect crawl suddenly make you invisible… or just more disgusting?"
His gaze hardened.
"Because from where I'm standing, you're not escaping."
He… he has a spell that controls gravity…
Rykard's thoughts spiraled as he glanced at Alex in disbelief. It made no sense. A boy who had been half-dead—struck by lightning—shouldn't be standing there like this. And yet here he was, exerting overwhelming strength, manipulating gravity itself with frightening precision.
This level of control…
Even I can't do this.
Cold realization sank in.
I don't stand a chance.
His throat tightened.
I need to live.
I need to survive.
I'll do anything—anything—just to see another day.
"L-let me go!" Rykard pleaded, his voice cracking.
Alex's expression didn't change.
"To hell with that," Alex replied flatly. "Why would I listen to you?"
His glare alone felt like a blade pressed to Rykard's throat.
Then the gravity intensified.
An enormous weight slammed Rykard deeper into the ground, the impact so violent it rebounded his body upward like a broken doll.
Before he could even scream, Alex caught him mid-air by the collar.
"You slapped my sister however you wanted, didn't you?" Alex said quietly.
"You didn't even hold back."
His grip tightened.
"So clench your teeth, you bastard."
Alex drew his arm back. Muscles and veins swelled grotesquely as mana poured into his hand, compressing, hardening—turning it into a weapon meant only to punish.
"Here comes the first one."
Crack—
Alex's palm slammed into Rykard's cheek.
The force sent him flying, his body tearing through the air before crashing into the trees. Trunks shook violently, leaves exploded outward, and birds scattered in panicked flocks as the forest itself recoiled from the impact.
And that—
Was only the beginning.
Rykard's body was sent skidding through the air like discarded trash, spinning over and over as blood sprayed from his shattered mouth. Below him, a clear stream shimmered under the sunlight—quiet, untouched, almost peaceful.
For a split second, it looked like he was going to crash straight into it.
Alex reappeared mid-air.
No sound. No warning.
Just impact.
BANG.
Alex's kick crushed into Rykard's side and sent him flying the other way, violently changing his trajectory. It wasn't done to finish him.
It was deliberate.
As if Alex had decided that even the water deserved better than being stained by him.
Rykard screamed—what little sound his ruined mouth could manage—as his body slammed into tree branches one after another. Wood snapped. Leaves exploded outward. Bark tore free as he bounced violently through the forest like a broken doll.
Finally, he skidded across the dirt and came to a halt.
Silence followed.
Then... movement.
A deer slowly wandered out from between the trees. It lowered its head, sniffed Rykard's face curiously, ears twitching. It stared at him for a long moment, unimpressed.
Then, without a shred of concern—
It relieved itself directly onto his face.
The deer calmly walked away.
Rykard's cheeks were bent at an unnatural angle. His jaw barely worked anymore. Blood and saliva leaked from the corner of his mouth as his eyes rolled weakly.
"S… s… sprei… me…"
The plea came out mangled, barely human.
He couldn't even beg properly.
The air above him distorted.
Alex dropped from the sky.
CRACK!
The second slap landed on the opposite cheek.
This one didn't send Rykard flying.
It sent him down.
His head was driven straight into the ground, the earth exploding outward as his skull buried itself deep, carving a crude grave with sheer force. The shockwave rippled through the soil, shaking nearby trees and sending birds screaming into the clear sky.
Alex stood there, unmoving.
He looked down at the body.
"Whoever messes with my newfound family," he said, his voice calm—too calm,
"will taste my wrath."
"This isn't something people need to hear," Alex added quietly.
"It's something they need to experience."
The forest slowly settled again.
Alex glanced at Rykard's lifeless body one last time.
"…So."
He turned away.
"Fuck you, asshole."