The narrow street was cloaked in shadow, its walls closing in like a trap. Hoj and Mandle carried a small bundle of wood, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. They turned the corner—and froze. A group of boys stood waiting. Their smirks gleamed in the dim light, their bodies spread wide to block the path. It was no accident. They had been waiting. Hoj's voice was weary but calm. "Please… step aside . Let us pass."
The leader stepped forward, his grin sharp. "Well, well," he drawled, his tone dripping like venom. "The drunk and his monster. Thought you could sneak home without us noticing?" The others laughed, their voices bouncing cruelly off the narrow walls. "What kind of father raises a freak like that?" another jeered. "No wonder your wife left you, old man. She saw what you were—trash." Hoj's jaw tightened, but he tried to keep his composure. "We don't want trouble. Just let us through."
The leader sneered. "Trouble? You are trouble." He shoved Hoj hard in the chest. The old man staggered, clutching his chest. A fist followed, smashing into his stomach. Hoj coughed, blood spilling from his lips. Mandle's heart pounded. "Stop!" he cried, rushing forward. But one of the boys slapped him across the face, the sound echoing like a whip crack. "Stay down, monster!" the boy spat.
Another grabbed Mandle by the hair, forcing his disgusted face into the dirt. The rough ground tore at his skin, blood streaking down his cheek. The boys laughed louder, pressing harder, grinding his face until the pain burned like fire. Hoj, seeing his son bleeding, staggered forward. "Leave him!" he shouted, swinging his fist in desperation. By chance, it struck the leader squarely across the jaw. The boy stumbled back, stunned, then his face twisted with rage. "You dare hit me, old man?" he snarled.
The others roared with laughter, but their blows grew harsher. The leader spat blood, then drove his fist into Hoj's ribs. Another boy joined in, kicking him repeatedly. One of them, stronger than the rest, with a spark of combat power, struck again and again, each punch heavier, each kick sharper. Blood spilled from Hoj's mouth as he collapsed to the ground.
Mandle screamed, trying to reach his father, but the bullies shoved him down. One pressed his disgusted face harder into the dirt, grinding until blood flowed freely.
"Look at him!" the leader shouted. "Monster! Half-dead, half-alive!" Hoj coughed, struggling to rise, but another kick forced him down. His body shook, blood staining the street.
The laughter grew louder, crueler, echoing in Mandle's ears. His vision blurred with tears and rage. His father's cries mixed with the taste of blood in his mouth. The world narrowed to pain, humiliation, and fury.
Then something inside him snapped for the first time. It was not a thought, not a choice—just a surge. A raw, violent pulse that tore through his chest. The ground trembled. The air thickened. The fire in a nearby brazier roared to life, flames leaping high as if answering his fury.
The boys froze, their laughter dying in their throats. Mandle rose slowly from the dirt, his mismatched face streaked with blood, his pairs of blue eye glowing with unnatural light. Something had snapped inside him. And the world around him would never be the same.