Jay walked through the kingdom's streets, taking in every detail, but his mind was fixed on a much more immediate problem: he needed money. Without knowing how to read or write the local language, finding a job—or even understanding signs—was nearly impossible. Every step reminded him that he was completely lost in this world.
As he walked down an alleyway, a sound caught his attention. It was a narrow space, barely wide enough for five people to stand shoulder to shoulder. Sharp thuds and the sounds of a struggle echoed from the far end. Jay stopped, glanced down the alley, and repeated in his mind:
"Not your problem… not your problem… not your problem…"
He was about to keep walking when a scream cut through the air: A child.
Jay wasn't the kind of person who rushed to save others on impulse, but when it came to kids, it was different. He couldn't stand the idea of someone abusing innocence. Without thinking, he ran toward the end of the alley.
There he saw the scene: two men dressed entirely in black, hoods hiding their faces, belts loaded with weapons and tools. Their heavy boots echoed with each step, and their movements radiated calculated brutality and coldness. In front of them stood a small, vulnerable figure: a wolf-eared, wolf-tailed girl, around fourteen years old, with silver hair and fur. Her eyes shimmered with fear as she clutched a small leather pouch tightly.
Jay paused for a moment, crossing his arms behind his head, trying to assess the situation.
"What's going on here?" he asked vaguely, as if it wasn't his business—but curiosity pushed him to look closer. "Not my problem, but… I can't help it."
One of the men glanced at him with a mix of disdain and threat.
"And who the hell are you?" he said gruffly. "This doesn't concern you. Get lost. Judging by your clothes… you're a foreigner, huh?"
As Jay stood still, the other man approached the feline girl. With fury, he snatched the small leather pouch from her hands. She tried to stop him, reaching out, but he shoved her cruelly. The girl fell backward, landing with a thud that echoed off the alley walls.
Jay felt a knot in his throat. His eyes narrowed. His hands clenched into fists.
He knew he was about to cross a line he normally wouldn't. His mind screamed, his heart pounded like a war drum:
"I can't just stand here… not when it's a kid…"
The scene before him was charged with tension: the defenseless girl, the dangerous men, and him—a stranger with no money or resources—facing the choice to intervene or walk away.
The alley had become a deadly chessboard. And Jay, even as a foreigner, was about to make his first move.
Jay couldn't take it anymore. His heart pounded in his chest, and his instinct to protect the girl was stronger than any fear. He took off his cap, tossing it back, and charged toward the men with determination.
Though he was just a human from Earth, Jay had basic military training. He couldn't fight blades with blades, but he could move fast—and dodge with precision.
The first man, seeing Jay approach, drew a short sword from his belt, its blade gleaming with a dangerous edge. The second unsheathed a knife, gripping it tightly, ready to stab anyone who got in the way.
Jay didn't raise his fists right away; instead, he watched their movements. He calculated every step, every swing of the sword and knife. "With this… I can't attack. I can only dodge," he thought.
The first strike came fast. The sword sliced through the air, aiming for his head. Jay stepped back, dropped low, and rolled to the side, feeling the blade graze past his shoulder. The sound of metal cutting air made him shudder.
The second man hurled his knife at the same time. Jay spun on his heel, narrowly avoiding the blade by a hair's breadth. His breathing was fast but controlled, as if every muscle knew exactly what to do.
Retreating, dodging, spinning… Jay moved like he was dancing, combining reflexes with muscle memory. Every blow he couldn't block, he deflected with precision, using angles impossible for an ordinary human.
Suddenly, the girl fell to the ground. Jay saw the leather pouch roll toward him. With a swift motion, the girl scrambled up, grabbed her pouch, and bolted toward the alley's exit.
"That's my cue!" Jay thought. "Time to get out of here."
But then, one of the men stopped abruptly. He stood still, eyes locked on the girl, and extended his palm toward her. His weapon, still in hand, began to glow with a yellow aura that defied explanation.
The man chanted words in reverse, like a twisted, unnatural hymn. Jay stepped back, eyes wide.
"Is that… magic?" he murmured, thrilled. "No way…"
Meanwhile, the other man kept advancing, slashing the air with his knife, trying to force Jay to retreat further. Jay leapt to the side, dodging the blade by mere inches, feeling the breeze of steel brush his arm. Every second stretched into eternity, every movement a dance between life and death.
Jay knew he couldn't win with direct attacks, but every dodge bought him time—to think, to breathe, to analyze the magic he'd just witnessed. The girl was safe for now, but the threat was far greater than he'd imagined.
The alley was thick with tension—metal slicing air, rapid footsteps, sharp breaths, and that yellow aura radiating an unknown danger. Jay smiled faintly, exhilarated despite the fear.
This was real. Magic. Combat. Danger.
And a story that was only just beginning.
The other man—the one with the knife and the yellow aura—began a strange recital of reversed words, his lips moving with almost musical precision. It looked like a ritual. He turned to his companion and signaled him to step aside, leaving Jay alone in front of him—focused, exposed, vulnerable.
Jay frowned and thought quickly: "If I use his friend as a human shield… he probably won't attack."
With determination, Jay began moving toward the man who had stepped back. Each step was calculated, dodging the knife's edge, closing in with the intent to use the companion as a barrier. But just as Jay was about to position himself, the man with the yellow aura crouched swiftly. Jay had no time to react.
The man extended his glowing palm and made a sharp motion with his knife. From the blade burst a beam of intense yellow light, as if the air itself had turned solid and ignited.
Jay had no choice. He could only absorb the impact with his tactical vest.
The blast hit him squarely. The vest absorbed the worst of it, saving his life, but the force sent him flying backward, crashing to the ground in pain. His body wasn't broken, but every muscle screamed, his breath came in gasps, and the pain was just enough to keep him from getting up right away.
"Damn it…" Jay muttered, trying to rise.
At that moment, the other man walked toward him. Without warning, he kicked Jay hard in the chest. Jay's body moved like a sack of dirt—struck and helpless. Air burst from his lungs with a dry snap.
Before he could recover, both men began kicking him again and again. Jay shielded his head and torso with his arms, protecting himself as best he could. Each blow made the ground tremble beneath him, his vision blurred, and his mouth filled with blood from a cut on his lip.
"…I can't… give up…" he thought, even as the pain felt endless. "I have to survive…"
Just then, when it seemed the men's strength would crush him completely… something unexpected happened.
A gust of wind swept through the alley, and a bright light appeared behind Jay. The girl—the same one who had escaped—was there, holding an unknown object. Her arrival was enough to distract the men for a split second.
Jay, despite the pain, saw the opportunity: If he could use that distraction… maybe he still had a chance to fight back.
The alley was thick with tension, pain, and magic. Every second could be the last, and Jay felt his heart pounding at the edge—driven by adrenaline and the need to protect the girl.
Jay slowly opened his eyes, still lying on the ground, feeling the dust and dampness of the street clinging to his skin. His breathing was uneven, his heart pounding, every muscle aching—reminding him just how close he'd come to danger. In front of him, a small figure caught his attention.
The girl stood tall despite her size, her silver eyes glowing with determination. In her right hand, she held a tiny object—no bigger than a marble or a coin—that emitted a faint blue glow. Each flicker of light seemed to move with a life of its own, casting dancing shadows along the alley walls.
The two men froze in place, instinctively stepping back, their bodies rigid and eyes wide as saucers. Fear was etched into every line of their faces, in the sweat beading on their foreheads, in the tension of their shoulders. One of them spoke with a trembling voice, barely able to form the words:
"Girl… how can you use the Scorpion's Heart…"
The other could hardly breathe, his hands shaking over his weapons, unable to take a single step closer. Jay watched them from the ground, unable to move just yet, but feeling the tension of the moment seep into his own nerves. He couldn't fully grasp the fear that small object inspired—but the urgency was undeniable.
The girl raised her gaze and faced them directly, her expression serious and unwavering. Every word that left her lips carried unexpected weight, as if her small body had taken on the power of the entire alley:
"Leave. And let that man and me be."
The men exchanged a quick glance, panic rising in their eyes, and without another word, they began to retreat—stumbling slightly on the damp cobblestones. Their boots echoed with each step as fear drove them to flee without looking back. As they vanished, their voices mixed with the alley's fading echoes:
"Girl, that object doesn't belong to you… someone else will come for it… no matter what you do… that person will kill for the Scorpion's Heart…"
Jay remained on the ground for a few more seconds, breathing heavily, watching as the threat slowly faded. The girl, never taking her eyes off him, walked with measured, silent steps until she stood beside him. Gently, she lifted one of her small feet and placed it softly on his arm, barely touching him.
Jay closed his eyes for a moment, feeling an unexpected sense of relief. That simple, delicate gesture reminded him that someone had protected him—someone had stood their ground in the face of danger. Every breath the girl took, every serious and composed glance, filled him with both calm and resolve.
For a moment, the world seemed to pause: The rain falling from nearby rooftops, the distant echo of fleeing footsteps, the blue glow of the tiny object, and the vigilant girl.
Jay knew that even though he was exhausted and lying on the ground, he could get up. Someone else had stood for him—and that was enough to give him the strength to keep going.