"How dare you sleep with the chairman's wife, you will learn your place…!" A bald headed man said, gnashing his teeth in annoyance.
In his hand was a large, spiked club stained with dried blood, and even some pieces of innards.
He wasn't alone, around him were fifteen other men, each one holding dangerous weapons ranging from clubs to cutlasses, and even pistols.
They all stood in a wide, abandoned street, and trapped in their middle was a man clad in black.
The man stood a little over six feet tall, with long black hair reaching his shoulders.
His eyes were pitch black, but if one looked closely, they would find a trace of gold within them.
Despite the armed men surroundings him, he had a relaxed expression on his face, like everything was under perfect control.
He sighed, turning towards the bald headed man who threatened him earlier.
"So… what if I did?" he said, lips curling into a teasing smirk. "I simply gave her what she wanted, it's not my fault your chairman can't satisfy his wife."
The bald headed man turned red in anger, pointing the club at him.
"You still think this is a joke, you haven't realized just how much trouble you're in haven't you?" he said, chucking to himself.
The others around him chuckled along with him, brandishing their weapons in sick pride.
Another among them stepped forward, an ugly, fat man already balding at the sides.
"You have been doing this for long, but today… you face the consequences Damien!" he shouted.
Damien sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Fine, come at it." he said, the golden glow in his eyes growing slightly sharper.
The fat one among them was the first to charge at him, swinging the cutlass in his hands towards his neck.
But Damien simply slapped the weapon out of his hands, before delivering a powerful punch to his abdomen.
"Uckk!" The man grunted, the force behind the punch sending ripples across the wads of fat in his body.
His back arched, and his body was immediately sent flying, crashing beside one of his teammates.
The man's body slid limply across the dusty asphalt, groaning faintly as he clutched his stomach.
For a brief moment, silence settled over the abandoned street.
The remaining men instinctively glanced at their fallen teammate. Their eyes lingered on his trembling figure, the way his body curled in on itself like a crushed insect. A faint wheeze escaped his lips as he struggled to breathe.
Then, almost simultaneously, their gazes lifted again.
They looked back at Damien.
The man stood exactly where he had been moments ago, his posture relaxed, shoulders loose, as though he had merely flicked away a bothersome mosquito rather than sent a grown man flying several meters.
Their grips on their weapons tightened.
Some swallowed dryly. Others narrowed their eyes, trying to mask the unease creeping into their hearts.
But Damien… Damien simply scoffed.
He lifted one hand, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve before casually raising the same hand and curling his fingers toward them in a slow beckoning motion.
"Come on," he said lazily.
His tone carried a hint of boredom.
Then he gestured again, sweeping his hand toward them in a wide motion.
"All of you at once."
The bald headed man's face twitched violently.
The veins on his forehead bulged as his teeth ground together with an audible gnash.
The arrogance.
The sheer, shameless arrogance!
They had surrounded him with fifteen men, each one armed. Yet this bastard was standing there… yawning and provoking them like they were nothing more than street dogs.
The bald man's eyes burned with fury.
"Attack him!" he roared suddenly, his voice echoing loudly through the empty street.
His arm shot forward, the blood-stained club in his hand pointing directly at Damien.
"ALL OF YOU, ATTACK AT ONCE!"
That was all the encouragement they needed.
With enraged shouts and furious snarls, the remaining men surged forward simultaneously.
Boots slammed against the pavement as they rushed toward him like a pack of wolves.
Weapons descended from every direction.
It was a barrage that would have left any ordinary person hacked into pieces within seconds.
But Damien merely tilted his head slightly.
Then a wide, lazy yawn escaped his mouth as if the scene before him was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
The first club came crashing toward the side of his head.
Damien leaned backward slightly.
The weapon passed inches away from his face.
At the same moment, a cutlass swept toward his ribs.
He twisted his torso casually, the blade slicing through empty air.
Another man lunged forward from behind, attempting to stab him with a rusted knife.
Damien stepped forward at the exact moment the blade would have reached him, causing the attack to miss completely.
Their weapons flew past him again and again.
From an outsider's perspective, Damien looked almost leisurely as he moved between their attacks. His steps were slow, unhurried, like someone strolling through a quiet park.
Another yawn escaped him.
"Seriously…" he muttered under his breath.
A man to his right raised a thick iron rod and swung it toward Damien's temple.
Before the rod could land—
Damien's leg suddenly shot outward.
THUD!
His foot slammed squarely into the man's chest.
The force behind the kick was monstrous.
The man's eyes bulged as the air was violently expelled from his lungs.
His entire body lifted off the ground like a ragdoll.
"GAH—!"
He flew backward several meters before crashing directly into three of his teammates.
BAM!
The four of them collapsed together in a tangled heap of limbs and weapons, groaning loudly as they slammed against the pavement.
The sudden chaos caused the remaining attackers to hesitate.
But that moment was all Damien needed.
His figure blurred, and a fist shot forward.
CRACK!
One man's head snapped violently to the side as Damien's knuckles buried themselves into his cheek.
Before the man even dropped to the ground, Damien had already moved, throwing out another punch.
THUD!
A second man's face caved inward slightly as Damien's fist slammed into his nose.
Blood burst into the air.
The third one barely had time to widen his eyes before Damien's elbow smashed into his jaw.
CRACK!
Teeth scattered across the ground.
In the span of that single breath—
Five men were sent flying, bodies lifting off the ground one after another like broken dolls.
They crashed violently against the pavement several meters away, rolling across the dusty street before finally coming to a stop.
Each one bore a clear fist imprint on their faces.
The remaining men froze.
Damien slowly lowered his hand.
Then he clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.
"…Tsk."
He glanced at them lazily.
"You're all so slow."