Gray's head snapped around. Standing there, silhouetted against the dim light from outside, were Leo, Knuckles, Specs, Rat, and the rest of his crew.
They had secretly followed him.
"What are you guys doing here?!" Gray shouted.
"We can't just leave you alone while you fight two hundred men right?" Leo smiled.
Grandmaster Dan looked past Gray, his gaze sweeping over Leo, Knuckles, and the others.
"This fight is with your leader," Grandmaster Dan announced clearly.
"He has made many enemies, and today, he pays his debts. But you guys don't have to. You can walk away. My men will open the gate for you. Leave now, and you will be untouched. This is your only chance."
A murmur went through the crowd. It was a tempting offer.
A chance to live.
A cold stone of guilt dropped into Gray's stomach.
This was his fault. His naivety, his refusal to listen, had led them here.
He couldn't let them suffer for his mistake.
He didn't turn to face his crew. He kept his eyes locked on Grandmaster Dan.
"He's right," Gray said, his voice low and strained.
"This is my stupid mess. Get out of here. That's an order."
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, Leo stepped forward, moving to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Gray.
"We started this with you," he said, his voice firm. "We're finishing it with you."
Knuckles cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and defiant.
"Are you kidding? Two hundred to twelve? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"
Specs adjusted his glasses, a grim smile on his face. "My calculations indicate our odds of survival are approximately 1.3%. I've always been a gambler."
One by one, the rest of his crew voiced their resolve, their loyalty a burning light in the face of impossible odds.
Gray felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling so foreign and overwhelming it almost brought him to his knees.
It was the pride he felt for his friends, for their unshakable loyalty.
But it was immediately followed by a wave of regret.
They were willing to fall with him, because of a mistake he made.
He finally turned to them, a look in his eyes they had never seen before.
The arrogance was gone, replaced by a deep, heartfelt gratitude. He gave them a single, solemn nod.
"Alright," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He turned back to face the horde, his fists clenching at his sides. "Let's show them what we're made of!"
With a unified roar, the enemy charged.
The battle erupted.
"GET THEM!" a thug roared, leading the charge.
The air filled with war cries and the thunder of running feet on concrete.
It was a storm of fists, feet, and crude weapons. But at the center of that storm was Gray.
He was a force of nature.
A pipe swung at his head. "Die, Gray!" the attacker screamed.
Gray caught it mid-swing, his grip unerring. The man's eyes widened in shock.
"Huh?"
With a contemptuous grunt, Gray snapped the thick steel pipe over his knee as if it were a twig.
"Pathetic."
He used the two jagged pieces to disable three thugs in a single, fluid motion, their screams adding to the violent symphony.
He moved through the crowd not like a man, but like a demolition ball, shattering lines and breaking bodies.
"He's a monster!" one man shrieked before a single punch sent him flying backward into his comrades.
"Don't let up! Swarm him!" another commanded.
For every man Gray knocked down, five more took their place, but it didn't matter.
He was a tireless engine of destruction. "Next," was the only word he uttered, his voice cold and flat amidst the chaos.
His crew were legends in their own right.
"Eat this!" Knuckles bellowed, laughing as he waded into the thickest part of the fight, trading blow for blow and always coming out on top.
"Who wants a knuckle sandwich?!"
"Knuckles, on your right!" Leo shouted, his movements a blur.
He ducked under a swinging chain, delivering a swift, powerful kick to his opponent's gut.
"You're too slow," he stated calmly before felling another with a precise jab to the throat.
Even Specs was holding his own. "Your center of gravity is all wrong!" he critiqued as he stuck out a leg, tripping a charging brute. "A rudimentary error."
Against all odds, they were actually winning.
"Gray!" Leo yelled across the battlefield, a grin splitting his face.
"We're doing it! We're beating 200!"
One of the younger crew members laughed, adrenaline coursing through him as he knocked a man down.
"They're getting scared! We're gonna win this!"
The floor was littered with the groaning bodies of their enemies.
The massive horde had been whittled down to less than half its original size.
Hope began to bloom in their chests.
Up on the second floor, Grandmaster Dan, who had been watching with an unnervingly calm expression, gave a simple, almost imperceptible nod.
Specs had cornered a thug against a pillar.
"Statistically, your best option now is surrender," he advised, pushing his glasses up. "Your form is sloppy, you've left at least three openings—"
Suddenly, a glint of steel flashed.
"Shut up, four-eyes!" the man snarled. With a desperate lunge, he pulled a knife from his boot.
"Ah," Specs breathed, his eyes widening as he spotted the blade a fraction of a second too late. "A concealed variable."
The blade slid between his ribs.
He let out a soft gasp of shock, and collapsed to the ground, a hand-drawn map falling from his pocket, stained with his blood.
Leo's eyes went wide with disbelief and horror. He violently shoved the man he was holding into a pillar. "SPECS!"
The thug who had stabbed Specs sneered, kicking his body. "Not so smart now, are ya, four-eyes?"
Gray had a man hoisted over his head, ready to be thrown. He heard Leo's scream and paused. "Leo? What is it?"
His eyes followed Leo's gaze and saw Specs on the ground.
A pool of blood spread from Specs's body as the killer let out a victorious smirk.
"Specs…" Gray's voice was deathly quiet.
The tide turned in a heartbeat.
A collective shing sound echoed through the garage as, all across the battlefield, the remaining thugs pulled hidden knives.
The clanging of pipes was replaced by the flash of blades in the harsh floodlights.
"They've got knives!" someone from Gray's crew screamed in terror.
Knuckles saw Specs fall. His face contorted in pure rage.
"SPECS!" he roared, his voice raw with fury. He turned on the man who stabbed him. "YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!"
He charged, ignoring the three other thugs who turned to face him, their knives flashing. "Fistfight's over, big guy!" one of them sneered.
Knuckles didn't care. He threw a single, powerful punch that crushed the first man's jaw, but the other knives found their way into his back.
He grunted as he fell to his knees, his massive frame slumping to the concrete, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"NO!" Gray bellowed, the sound tearing from his throat. He tried to get to his friends, but he was instantly swarmed.
"Get him! Stab him now!"
"Cut him down! He's just one man!"
Ten men, their faces twisted with murderous intent, converged on him at once.
He moved faster than he ever had before, a whirlwind of desperate blocks and brutal counters.
An arm was broken with a wet snap. A wrist was shattered.
He dodged and weaved, the blades missing him by millimeters.
Eight of the attackers went down in a blur of motion.
But two got through.
He felt a searing, cold pain in his stomach.
He looked down and saw the hilt of a knife buried deep within him.
At the same moment, another blade stabbed him in the back, right below the shoulder blade.
A sharp gasp of air escaped his lips. His seemingly infinite strength began to drain away, pouring out of him with his own blood.
He fell to one knee, the world starting to tilt and blur around him.
Through his fading vision, he saw the last of his loyal friends fall.
He saw a younger crew member cornered, screaming in fear.
"Leo, look out!" the boy shrieked.
Leo didn't hesitate. He shoved the boy behind him.
"Get back!" he commanded. Three thugs lunged at him. He managed to take one down, but the other two plunged their blades into his chest.
He fell with a soft sigh, his eyes finding Gray's for one last, fleeting moment.
He mouthed a single word.
'Live.'
The fighting stopped. The only sounds were the pained groans of the wounded and the heavy breathing of the victors.
Gray was on his knees, surrounded by the bodies of his friends.
His friends.
His family.
Rage, pure and undiluted, surged through him, but it was quickly extinguished by the crushing weight of his regret.
'I was a fool. An arrogant, selfish fool.'
The thought screamed in his mind.
'Despite my foolishness, they followed me.'
'If only I had listened. If only we had a plan.'
'This is all my fault.'
The remaining thugs parted, and Grandmaster Dan walked calmly through them.
He stopped in front of the kneeling Gray, idly flipping a small butterfly knife in his hand.
He looked down, his expression not of triumph, but of cold, detached pity.
"Raw strength isn't everything, kid," Grandmaster Dan said softly. "If you have a next life, don't be so goddamn naive."
Gray let out a low growl.
With a monumental effort, he pushed against the ground, trying to rise, to launch one last, desperate attack, however, his body was too exhausted.
Grandmaster Dan knelt, bringing himself face-to-face with the fallen Gray.
"This is the end of the line for you, Gray."
With a flick of his wrist, he plunged the knife into Gray's neck.
The faces of Leo, Knuckles, and Specs appeared in his vision, clear and painfully real. Their loyal, trusting smiles twisting into expressions of agony.
All of it... because of him. Because he believed in "fair fights." Because his dream of having a normal future was more important than their lives.
His final thought wasn't anger at Grandmaster Dan. It was a pure, agonizing hatred... for himself.
A single, silent, blood-choked realization.
'He's right. I am a fool.'
The world faded, but a single, burning ember of Will remained, an obsession seared into his very soul.
'Honor is a lie. Pride is for idiots. The only thing that matters is my family. Next time... if there is a next time... I will be the one who brings the knives. I will be the one who ambushes. I will be... shameless!'