"Who's next?"
A huge muscular boy said, dropping someone flat on the ground. Around him, four other boys already lay beaten and defeated.
It had started as a friendly sparring match, but it quickly turned into a challenge pit, come and try your luck if you dare.
Still in the Nova assembly building.
They fought inside the open courtyard at the center of the four massive housing blocks. The place was meant to be a gathering point, but now it had turned into a fighting ground. Boys and girls surrounded the circle, cheering loudly. Those who knew him shouted his name again and again:
"Mark Nelson!"
"Mark Nelson!"
"Mark Nelson!"
Mark stood at the center, dripping sweat, veins swelling across his muscular arms. His shirt was gone, chest bare, showing off his trained body to intimidate anyone who thought of stepping forward.
They weren't allowed to use abilities—only raw strength. But Mark's strength was more than enough. One after another, challengers fell to him.
"Come on!" Mark roared, his voice booming. "Don't tell me no one here has the guts to face me. You're Izigans, aren't you? Show me what you've got!"
He smiled wide, scanning the crowd, waiting for another victim.
Belle's eyes narrowed as she watched. Most people cheered, but she only looked at them with disgust. Every fight so far had been predictable. Mark might look like a beast, but to her, his movements were sloppy.
"There, there, there… and there," Belle muttered, pointing out flaw after flaw, his stance, his arms, his footwork. She saw it all.
She tilted her head, moving it side to side, as if she were hearing music only she could hear. Dorothy, standing close, noticed her odd movements. Frowning, she nudged Belle's arm.
"Are you alright, Belle?"
Belle jolted a little, then turned with a faint smirk.
"Oh, right. I forgot you were here. Don't mind me. I'm just spotting openings those idiots can't see. Mark's nothing but an amateur."
Dorothy blinked, glancing from Belle to the towering Mark. Her eyes widened slightly, doubtful.
Belle caught the look. "What? You don't believe me?"
Dorothy stayed quiet, but her face said enough.
"Look, you have no idea how long I've been kicking asses," Belle continued. "Not just street punks, the military kind. My granddad made me train under a hitman since I was eight. Childhood? Never fun. I made my first kill at ten. Felt horrible at the time… but my granddad rewarded me with something I'd been begging for. Well… good old days."
Dorothy's face froze, struggling to process what she just heard.
"Are you even listening?" Belle asked flatly.
"I… I'll just pretend I understood," Dorothy stammered.
Belle slapped her palm to her forehead in frustration. "Oh my God. Forget it. What I'm saying is, I can beat that guy."
Dorothy smiled slightly, gesturing toward the circle. "If you can, then go. Prove it."
"Sure. Watch closely."
Belle slipped through the crowd, making her way forward. Mark's booming voice kept echoing, each word more annoying than the last.
"Next! Next! Don't send me rats, I need men! Real men! Where are you hiding? Show yourselves!"
He pounded his chest, grinning wide, as the crowd laughed and cheered. If they had cell phones, the whole thing would've been recorded, but such devices weren't allowed here.
"I'm waiting! Who's next? Who's ready to..."
"I'm here, mister."
The voice was small, calm. Mark frowned, lowering his head to see who had spoken.
There she was, a pale figure stepping out of the crowd. Long white hair, blue eyes that glowed like ice, skin so fair it almost shimmered under the lights.
For a moment, Mark was caught off guard, staring at her beauty. He stood frozen until Belle's voice snapped him back.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Mark blinked rapidly, regaining focus. He cleared his throat, his loud roar replaced with a strangely calm voice.
"What brings you here, my lady? This isn't a place for someone like you."
The crowd snickered, hearing the change in his tone. Belle, irritated, crossed her arms.
"You wanted an opponent? Well, here I am. Position yourself. It won't take long."
A loud gasp spread through the spectators. Everyone leaned closer, surprised at her confidence. Mark towered so high above her that Belle had to tilt her head back just to lock eyes with him.
Then, suddenly, Mark burst into laughter. He bent down, holding his knee, before facing the crowd.
"Well, well! The little princess wants to challenge me! I'd be disrespectful to deny her wish, so… let's get on with it!"
The crowd cheered wildly as the two faced each other.
"Don't go easy on me," Belle said firmly.
Mark grinned. "Don't worry, I know how to handle people like you."
In an instant, Mark lunged forward with a heavy punch. But Belle had already read his legs, his stance, his shoulder tilt. She stepped aside smoothly, her hand striking the exact joints between his shoulder and elbow in one swift motion.
Mark froze. His left arm went limp, dropping dead at his side. Shocked, he stared at it, completely distracted.
Before he could react, Belle leapt into the air. Her body twisted twice before her leg whipped forward with full momentum, smashing against his head.
Mark hit the ground with a heavy thud, unconscious.
The courtyard fell into complete silence. The cheers, the chants, the noise, all gone. Everyone stared, stunned.
By the time they realized what had happened, Belle was already gone, slipping back into the crowd.
She walked calmly away from the circle, her voice low to herself. "Good thing I finished it quick. Otherwise, that crowd would've smothered me..."
"That was awesome!"
Belle jumped, startled, spinning around.
"Jeez! What the hell?" she snapped.
"Sorry," Dorothy said quickly, smiling brightly as she leaned toward Belle.
Belle pushed her off with a scowl. Dorothy stumbled playfully, acting like she was falling into Belle for comfort.
"Don't get close. You doubted me in the first place," Belle said, shoving her to the wall.
Before Dorothy could reply, a voice cut in. Calm. Male.
"Hello, ladies."
A boy stepped between them.
Belle raised one brow, her face twisted with disgust.
"Who the hell is this fish?"