Xander held the piece of cloth closer to his face, narrowing his eyes as he examined it carefully. He turned it this way and that, squinting at the rough patch smeared across its surface.
"What exactly is this dirty-looking patch on here?" he asked in a tone filled with suspicion, his words dragging out as though he wanted everyone in the room to feel the weight of his curiosity. Slowly, almost theatrically, he lifted the cloth closer to his nose and inhaled cautiously in case it carried a pungent smell. When it didn't, he drew in a deeper breath.
The moment the earthy scent registered in his nostrils, he frowned and groaned. "Hmm."
Marcel, who had been watching the display with mild confusion, leaned in slightly. His brow furrowed, and his curiosity sharpened. "What is it?" he asked, eager to understand the reason behind Xander's odd expression.
Xander smirked faintly, as if he had uncovered something simple yet irritating. "It's just dirt," he said flatly, tossing the words out in a way that only made Marcel more confused.
Marcel's eyebrows drew closer together. "Dirt?" he repeated, as though trying to make sense of it.
"More accurately," Xander added, a chuckle escaping him, "it's mud."
He shifted his gaze back to Orion, who was standing before him with a hardened expression. "I'm curious—what good does having mud around your nose do for your breathing? Hm? I'll give you this much, though—part of your little story actually was true, seeing as how you came back home and swapped the cloth you lost while making your little getaway."
Orion clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to speak. His silence wasn't out of cleverness but out of anger. The sting from the slap Xander had delivered moments earlier still burned across his cheek, and humiliation kept him from opening his mouth.
Xander wasn't finished. He lowered his gaze to Orion's chest and studied his breathing. He observed the steady rise and fall, noting that the boy was breathing just fine—without the so-called "mud mask."
"So, what exactly would happen if you didn't have this on?" Xander asked coldly, dangling the cloth tauntingly in front of Orion's face.
Still, Orion kept quiet, his lips pressed together as his nerves built up inside him like an unstoppable tide.
Xander's eyes darkened. His voice grew heavier, venom dripping from every syllable. "I honestly can't imagine any benefit a mud-stained cloth mask would have on the lungs. But you—" he jabbed a finger at Orion "—seem to know something I don't. And you know what pisses me off more than anything?" His face twisted into something cruel, a malevolent grin stretching across it. "The fact that you're keeping it from me."
He leaned in closer, the shadow of his body falling across Orion. "So, I'll ask you a second time…" His grip on the cloth tightened. He then looked toward Kay, who sat quietly on the couch a few feet away.
Xander's expression screamed arrogance, as though declaring that no one here had the authority to stop him as the only guardian Orion had had no agency of his own or even awareness of what was going on.
His lips curled upward as his gaze landed back on Orion. "Why do you wear this mud cloth on your face?"
Orion's silence stretched longer this time. He tried desperately to calm his nerves, though his stomach churned, his palms grew sweaty, and his heart hammered in his chest. Before he could collect himself further, Xander drove a heavy punch straight into his gut.
The impact stole his breath away. Orion doubled over instantly, clutching his stomach as pain ripped through his body.
"I warned you, but you didn't listen," Xander sneered, rolling his eyes as though the entire situation bored him. He released Orion's shirt with a flick and ran a hand through his thick brown hair, smoothing it back with an air of pride.
"Now," Xander continued, his voice rising with dangerous authority, "I'm going to ask you a third time, and this time, you're going to answer. Otherwise, I'll do far worse than what I just—"
Before he could finish, a sudden blur of movement broke his words.
Orion snapped forward with an uppercut, his fist slicing through the air with startling precision.
Xander's martial arts training saved him. His honed reflexes picked up the strike in the corner of his eye, and in the nick of time, he leaned backward.
"Woah!" he hissed, narrowly evading a hit that would have shattered his jaw. Orion's fist sailed inches past his face, cutting through the air.
'This brat—!' Xander's mind screamed. His pupils dilated as he processed what had just happened, and then widened further when he realized something chilling—the uppercut was only the first part of a two-pronged attack.
The uppercut wasn't just a finishing blow; it was a setup. A destabilizer. If Xander evaded—which he had—his body would naturally lean backward, leaving his ribs exposed. And Orion had planned for that.
With a clenched fist brimming with force, Orion aimed straight for Xander's ribs. His entire body twisted into the motion, the kind of strike designed to deliver body-shocking pain that could collapse even a trained fighter. Worse yet, Xander's backward lean had stretched the muscles around his ribs tight, meaning the impact would land twice as hard.
For the first time, Xander cursed inwardly. He couldn't see a way out.
But the unexpected happened.
Marcel, who had been watching carefully from the side, reacted at the last possible moment. His arm shot forward like a shield, and his open palm intercepted Orion's punch. The impact rang out with a loud, echoing smack, the sound reverberating across the entire room.