Shortly before Abel set out, Law — his face's white patches hidden beneath coarse cloth — was caught stealing bread and beaten badly by the shop owner.
Fortunately, he protected his face, preventing his identity from being exposed.
Otherwise, there would've been panic, and he likely would have been killed.
After the beating, Law was so hungry and weak that he simply sat in a corner of the street staring blankly. He wasn't avoiding returning; he literally lacked the strength.
"What a poor child. Here, take this and buy some food."
After a while, a passing woman noticed Law sitting by the roadside. Pitying him, she handed him two coins for food.
It was two hundred Berries — not much, but enough to buy a piece of cheap bread. A newspaper cost a hundred, after all.
Law froze for a moment, then suddenly snatched the coins from her hand and bolted, head down, leaving the woman stunned.
He didn't want pity or sympathy. He preferred to steal money like this.
In his mind, that meant he was simply a bad kid — not a pathetic beggar needing charity.
However, Law didn't notice that several homeless men nearby had witnessed everything.
They exchanged glances and quietly followed.
"Huff… huff…"
Maybe it was pride, maybe stubbornness, but Law ran far enough that he could no longer see the woman before stopping to catch his breath.
He clutched the two coins tightly.
With that two hundred Berries, at least he and Abel could eat tonight.
That thought calmed him a little.
But as he turned around to spend the money, he realized the alley was blocked by two homeless men, both grinning viciously.
"Oh no…"
Law spun around instinctively, only to find the other end blocked as well.
Front and back sealed, he was trapped like a turtle in a jar.
A long-haired vagrant with jagged yellow teeth stepped forward, eyes gleaming with greed.
"Kid, you've got nerve. Begging on my turf without even saying hello? Don't you know the rules?"
Law originally didn't want trouble. He was outnumbered, smaller, weaker — no chance of winning.
But the word "begging" stabbed his pride, igniting something inside him.
"That wasn't begging," he snapped. "I stole it from that stupid woman!"
"Oh? You stole it? Then naturally we'll steal it from you! Hahaha!"
The homeless men burst into mocking laughter, malice barely concealed.
Law knew surrendering and begging might save him.
But resentment choking his heart wouldn't let him. He glared fiercely at them.
"Then come and take it!"
That expression instantly infuriated the men.
People looked at them with disgust every day — and now, their "easy target" wasn't following the script.
They were furious.
"You little punk. Let's see if you're still tough after I break your limbs!"
The long-haired vagrant stepped forward and kicked Law to the ground. The other three rushed in, surrounding him against the wall and kicking repeatedly.
Law had none of the future flair of a supernova. He could only curl up, using his arms to shield his head, teeth clenched to keep from crying out.
The beating was savage, merciless.
These bottom-feeders knew nothing about restraint. They kicked Law like he was a sack of garbage, venting all the humiliation they endured daily.
The two coins that started it all had long since fallen aside — no one cared.
What was happening now had nothing to do with two hundred Berries.
Even as Law lay there almost unconscious, the men still had no intention of stopping.
The long-haired vagrant snarled, "Hold him down. I meant what I said. If I say I'll break his limbs, I'll break them!"
The others cheered eagerly, completely unmoved by the fact that Law was just a child. They pulled Law into a starfish position, pinning him hard against the ground.
The long-haired vagrant grinned again, yellow teeth bared. He raised his right foot high — prepared to stomp down and break Law's arms and legs.
Despite everything, Law still glared at him fiercely.
For some reason, that stare sent a chill running down the man's spine — quickly replaced by rage and humiliation.
"After I crush your limbs, I'll gouge out your eyes. Let's see if you can still stare then!"
Just as he was about to stomp down, a sharp whooshing sound came from behind.
CRACK!
A rock the size of a fist slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground with a scream.
The sudden attack stunned the other three.
But Abel — arriving just in time — didn't waste the opportunity.
He set another stone at his feet and kicked it with force.
Abel wasn't a trained football player, but he'd played often enough in college. With only a dozen meters between them, his accuracy was decent.
The rock smashed into another homeless man's face, and he dropped instantly, unconscious.
The remaining two finally noticed Abel.
Unfortunately, Abel's third kick missed. The stone slammed into the nearby wall and shattered.
"Tch."
Abel clicked his tongue but didn't go for another kick.
It wasn't that he'd run out of stones — his right shoe's power supply was drained, and he couldn't kick properly with his left. So he simply stopped.