Saffron wiped the blood from his mouth and somehow managed to twist his beaten face into a confident smirk. Even with missing teeth and swollen lips, his arrogance hadn't faded in the slightest.
The remaining goons moved in closer around Harian like a tightening noose.
Saffron lifted his chin and announced, voice dripping with superiority, "That electric cane you're holding barely has any charge left." Harian froze. So did George.
Saffron grinned wider, enjoying their reactions. "Maybe it's enough for one more strike," he continued mockingly, "but after that? You'll be helpless. And then...." he motioned lazily to his men " we'll beat you into the ground."
The goons straightened, their eyes lighting up. Saffron lifted one finger, like he was presenting a gift. "Anyone who takes that brat down…" His smile grew feral. "…gets one gold and fifty silver coins."
The shift was instant.
Whatever fear the men had a moment ago vanished beneath a tidal wave of greed. That much money could change their lives lift them out of the slums, feed them, clothe them, keep them alive through winter. It was fortune beyond anything they dared dream of. And it was being offered for beating a half-dead kid. Their hesitation evaporated and their eyes gleamed like starving wolves.
If the cane struck one of them so what? That was fate. That was luck. Whoever survived and got to Harian first would walk away rich. The goons crouched, readying themselves to pounce all at once. Greed had replaced fear. Hunger replaced caution. Every one of them was prepared to risk death for the faint hope of gold. Harian's pulse spiked. His palms began to sweat. He didn't know the cane was almost out of charge. He didn't know that it wouldn't save him this time. All he knew was that he was outnumbered, exhausted, and running on fumes.
And still…
Even as his heart raced and dread crawled up his spine… He didn't regret a damn thing.
If this was where he fell protecting someone who needed him ....then so be it. Harian simply tightened his grip on the sparking cane and spread his feet, ready to meet them head-on. George, frozen behind him, felt something in his chest tighten painfully. Because Harian wasn't even flinching. He wasn't backing away and he wasn't begging.
In an instant the hungry goons lunged at the skinny black-haired boy. Harian barely had time to react before rough arms wrapped around him and lifted him off his feet. Panic surged through him again but the goon who grabbed him made the mistake of celebrating too early.
Harian slammed the charged cane against the man's back.
The effect was immediate.
The goon convulsed violently, his face draining to a sickly white. His eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, foam bubbling from the corner of his mouth. His entire body shook so hard it looked like his bones might snap.
Harian tore himself free and stumbled back, breath ragged. Good one down. He tightened his grip on the cane and swung again toward the next man. The tip hit clean. The goon flinched, bracing for the electric agony he'd just watched his friend suffer...
Nothing.
Not even a spark. Harian's blood ran cold. The hairs along his spine stood straight up. The cane was out of charge. Saffron saw the moment of realization hit him. His grin stretched wider, crooked teeth shining through blood and spit. "Got you now," he hissed.
The goon Harian had shocked earlier still trembling but conscious forced a horrifying smile of his own, showing all his teeth. He lunged forward, grabbed Harian by the hair, and yanked hard.
Pain shot through Harian's scalp. He clenched his jaw, tried to strike back, but another fist slammed into his stomach, folding him in half. Air exploded out of his lungs. His vision blurred. But he still didn't stop. The moment the goon lifted him by the shirt, Harian spotted a tiny opening and lunged. He bit down on the man's hand with everything he had. The man screamed. A raw, ugly sound.
"YOU LITTLE!"
In reflexive pain and fury he hurled Harian away like a discarded rag.
Harian's body hit the dirt, bounced, rolled, and finally slammed into the stone wall behind him with a dull, sickening thud. His body folded from the impact, and a sharp burst of agony tore through his chest. He coughed once, twice before blood spilled out of his mouth and splattered onto the ground.
He lay there trembling, vision swimming, every breath stabbing him from the inside. The goons circled slowly..Saffron stood behind them, smiling like he had just watched the opening act of his favorite play.
Harian was so weak he could barely stand. His bones rattled with every breath, his muscles screamed in protest, and his insides felt like they were twisting themselves apart. But still he stood. Slowly, shakily, stubbornly. He raised his fists even though they trembled uncontrollably.
He glared at the goons and mocked them through the blood on his lips. "Six grown men… and you can't take down a kid?"
That was all it took.
The remaining goon snapped.
"You little shit. I'll beat you so bad you'll wish you died earlier!"
He stormed forward, fury burning in his eyes. Harian braced himself. He could barely even clench his fists properly, but he pulled his trembling arms up anyway, refusing to kneel, refusing to bow, refusing to give these people the satisfaction.
If this was where he fell… then so be it. He had no regrets. He'd done what he could. The goon swung, a heavy punch aimed to crush his skull. Harian shouted and threw his own frail punch in return not because he thought it would save him, but because he would never go down quietly. Never yield to bullies. Not in this life or the next.
The goon's smile widened. The boy's punch wouldn't even bruise him. He leaned in to end it...Something slammed into his jaw.
Hard. A fist came out of nowhere, smashing into the goon with such force his entire body twisted midair before he was launched across the alley and crashed into a pile of broken crates.
Harian blinked. Once. Twice.
What…?
He slowly turned his head.
The culprit stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched, bigger and more imposing than he had seemed moments ago. The same boy Harian had saved earlier.
"Did you forget about me?" the boy shouted, his voice booming through the alley. His grin was wide almost too wide,burning with a mix of anger, fear, and something new. Harian stared at him. George. That was the first time Harian saw it....the spark inside him that would one day shake the world.
George stepped forward, fists still trembling from the punch he'd thrown, his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. The goons who remained froze, unsure whether to attack or retreat. Even Saffron, who had been smirking with cruel confidence moments ago, stood stunned his swollen face tightening in disbelief.
George wiped the blood from his lip and glared at him.
"You know…" he began, his voice shaking..not from fear, but from the sheer weight of everything he'd held in for years, "we may look poor. We may look like rabid dogs to you. Dirty. Homeless. Living in these disgusting alleyways…"
He took another step forward, towering over Saffron even in his battered state.
"But people like you never understand what it takes to survive here. You think it's just filth and failure? No. It takes grit. It takes heart. And every day we're still alive is a victory you'll never understand."
Saffron stiffened. His eyes twitched. He felt something crawling up his spine fear. George didn't stop.
"So when someone like you…" he pointed at Saffron, "someone who's had everything handed to him… walks in here and thinks he can decide how we live or die… how we should bow, how we should suffer..."
His voice rose. Powerful. Raw. Honest.
"...then that's something I can't accept. I won't accept it. Not anymore."
Saffron took an involuntary step back. George looked different. Taller somehow. His eyes had changed filled with disgust, burning with rage that wasn't wild, but focused. George leaned forward slightly, his shadow falling over the trembling noble.
"In my eyes," he said coldly, "you're worse than the cockroaches that crawl around this place."
He lifted his chin, glaring straight into Saffron's horrified eyes.
"So do me a favor…" George said, his voice dropping into a dark, steady growl. "Fuck off back to wherever you came from."