The alley was wet. The air was thick, full of the smell of rot, wood, and earth. Emil stood at the door, his heart pounding like war drums. In front of him, three hooded men loomed over a child crouched against a brick wall, covered in dirt.
The lad couldn't have been more than thirteen. His ragged clothes clung with dust, and his thin frame and pale face looked terrified. His shaking hands clutched his ribs, likely where they'd punched him earlier.
A muscular thug with a jagged scar on his cheek jerked his chin toward Emil with a lazy gesture. His eyes gleamed with sadistic mirth.
"Eh, who in the devil's name are you?" he growled, cracking his knuckles.
Emil's fists clenched. His mind screamed at him to turn around. His inner voice shouted, Get out. You're not tough. You're not special. You're nothing.
But his body remained still.
"I might ask you the same," Emil said. His tone was high, trying to sound unafraid. "Three grown men attacking a kid? That's pathetic, don't you think? You geezers."
The thug with the scar blinked, then burst into laughter. His friends joined in, their loud cackling echoing down the alley.
"Oi! You hear that? The runt thinks he's a bloody hero!" laughed a hulking bald man, wiping away a tear from his eye. "Cute. But I suggest you get the fuck out of here before it's too late, kid." He glared at Emil. "This ain't a place for you to play hero."
The scarred man stepped forward, his shadow falling over Emil.
"You've got a choice, boy," he said, his voice dropping into a cold, low snarl. "Walk away before I break your legs and feed you to the monsters."
Emil swallowed hard. His instincts screamed, but something kept him rooted in place.
"Let the kid go," he said. His voice was steady now. "And I'll pretend I saw nothing. You get to walk too. Win-win."
The bald thug spat. "Oh yeah? And if we don't? What're you gonna do, little brat?"
A sneer curled Emil's lips. "Then it gets nasty. So you'd better leave before that happens."
His heart thundered in his chest. He knew it was a bluff. They knew it too.
A moment of silence passed.
Then the scarred man's grin twisted. "Okay, hero," he growled. "You first."
His fist came flying, aimed straight at Emil's face.
Move!
Emil winced, but his body acted on its own. The punch whooshed past his ear.
Pure luck, he thought. No time to think.
The thug's momentum carried him forward, and Emil kicked him in the stomach.
It was like kicking a rock.
The man barely budged.
"Shit. That did nothing. This body's fucking trash," Emil muttered.
But he wasn't done yet.
His eyes scanned the ground, there! A broken wooden branch was within reach.
He grabbed it and swung.
CRACK.
The wood splintered across the thug's head. The man staggered back, cursing.
"You little bastard! I'll fucking kill you!"
The bald thug charged forward.
There was no time.
Emil dodged and grabbed the injured boy's wrist.
"Run! Don't look back, just fucking run!"
The kid hesitated.
Emil didn't wait. He yanked the boy forward and ran.
Behind them, the thugs roared. Their boots pounded the cobblestones.
They were slow.
But so was Emil.
His breath burned. His legs trembled. But he kept going, dragging the boy through twisting alleys.
Left. Right. Another right.
His eyes scanned the path with laser focus.
"There!"
A small gap between buildings, just wide enough for kids.
Emil shoved through, pulling the boy after him. The thugs were too big to follow.
They burst out the other side, but they didn't stop.
Not until the shouting faded.
Not until the noise of the city swallowed it all.
Not until they reached the far end of town, lost now in the shadows of a vacant alley.
Only then did Emil release the boy's wrist and slump against the wall, chest heaving, limbs trembling.
That was insane. Too fast. Too much.
He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't even brave.
But still, he'd done it.
But I did it, he thought.
And he was still standing.
A soft voice cut through the silence.
"Why did you save me? Who are you?"
Emil turned.
The boy stood there, bruised, battered. His lip was split, arms streaked with purple welts. But his eyes,
They weren't afraid.
They were sharp, calculating.
Emil let out a slow breath. "Didn't like the odds. Three against one didn't sit right with me, so I jumped in to help."
"You knew you were weaker," the boy said, disbelief in his voice. "You could've died for me."
"Could've," Emil shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. "But I didn't. That's all that matters."
An awkward silence stretched between them.
Then Emil noticed something.
A letter poked out of the boy's pocket. Its golden wax seal caught the alley light.
His breath caught in his throat.
He recognized that emblem.
Carefully, Emil pulled it out.
The crest of the Empire Academy stared back at him.
His hands trembled.
He looked at the boy again, stomach twisting.
"You..." Emil's voice was hoarse. "Who in the devil's name are you?"
The boy's face twitched.
Then, slowly, a small, knowing smile curved his lips.