The sudden shout brought the jeering crowd to a stunned halt. They turned toward the source to find a short-haired blonde girl pointing an accusing finger at the attackers, her face flushed with anger.
Looking at the Black teenager lying bloodied on the ground, Sarah's expression hardened with fury. She'd only come because Allen had dragged her along to see what the commotion was about—she'd been tired of reading anyway, figured she'd take a break.
But the moment she pushed through the crowd, she'd witnessed this—a group ganging up on a single boy. Such blatant cruelty was more than she could stomach.
Sarah didn't understand it. The whole world had already fallen apart. Why were people still hurting each other like this? She couldn't comprehend the adult world, and she had no power to change it. But seeing kids her own age acting this way? That was something she refused to accept.
Her gaze swept across the watching crowd. Every face wore the same expression—spectators enjoying a show, not one of them trying to stop the violence. Her expression turned cold. She clenched her fists. Fine. If no one else would step in—she would!
Seeing that the challenger was just a girl, one of the attackers—a white-haired teen—let out a derisive snort. "Mind your own business. You're a girl, so I'll let this slide. But you'd better get lost. Now."
"And if I say no?"
Sarah met his arrogant sneer with an icy stare, throwing his words right back at him. She had no intention of backing down.
Her immediate refusal darkened the boy's expression. He'd expected his threat to send her scurrying away in fear.
Instead, she'd stood her ground and made him look foolish in front of everyone. The teenager felt his "authority" being challenged.
Sensing the eyes of the crowd on him, his bruised ego interpreted their attention as mockery. Rage flared through him. He stormed toward her, shouting, "Don't know when to quit, do you? Let me teach you a lesson!"
As he reached Sarah, he thrust both hands forward to shove her to the ground.
Dick and Allen, standing behind Sarah, had been on guard from the moment they arrived. Seeing him move to attack, they stepped forward without thinking to stop him.
But they never got the chance.
As the boy's hands reached toward her, Sarah's eyes flashed cold. Her slender hand shot out, catching his wrist in an iron grip.
Unlike these delinquents who lounged around waiting for training to end, Sarah had been forged by months of survival outside the quarantine zone and rigorous daily exercise. She was no longer the delicate girl she'd once been.
The white-haired boy instinctively tried to pull free, but some inexorable force held him fast.
Maintaining her grip, Sarah didn't give him time to react. She twisted smoothly, pulling his arm behind his back while her other hand seized a fistful of his hair, spinning him around in a full 180-degree turn.
The boy had only ever picked on the weak. He'd never faced anything like this. The pain of his hair being yanked made him howl, his face contorting.
Pinning his arm behind him, Sarah forced his twisted face toward his companions. The cold fury in her eyes didn't waver. She released her grip, raised her leg, and planted a solid kick on his backside, sending him stumbling into his friends.
Dick and Allen stared wide-eyed at the scene, stunned. They'd never imagined that Sarah—always so cheerful and easygoing—could be this fierce.
The crowd shared their astonishment. They'd expected the white-haired teen to intimidate the girl into tears. Instead, this younger girl had thoroughly handled someone bigger and older than her.
Silence fell over the courtyard. After witnessing her ferocity, every eye turned to the remaining gang members, curious to see their reaction.
The boys stared at their fallen companion in disbelief—then their faces twisted with rage.
They'd had it too easy for too long. No one had ever defied them like this. Exchanging glances, they communicated silently.
Tension crackled through the air. The spectators held their breath, watching the standoff, faces alight with the excitement of watching drama unfold.
True made the first move. He'd been about to properly teach that Black kid a lesson when someone had to jump in and ruin everything. Girl or not, he was going to make her regret this.
"Ahh!"
With a battle cry, he raised his fist and charged. After a moment's hesitation, the others followed.
Sarah watched them coming and showed no fear. Instead of retreating, she surged forward to meet them.
Allen and Dick rushed after her. Though they were only ten—basically pint-sized next to fifteen-year-olds—they weren't about to let her fight alone.
Allen was fine. His body was conditioned by high-intensity training, and he actually enjoyed this kind of thing. He wasn't scared at all.
Dick was another story. He'd rather be studying than fighting. His training scores were rock-bottom. He was stronger than he used to be, sure, but actually fighting? That made him nervous.
Still, there was no choice now. He couldn't just stand by while Sarah faced them alone.
Sarah sprinted forward. As the first attacker swung at her, she ducked under his fist, hearing the wind whistle past her head. She darted to his side and drove a punch into True's kidney, drawing a pained shriek.
Immediately, she spotted another fist coming from her flank. She grabbed True's collar and yanked him in front of her as a human shield.
The attacker's eyes went wide. He barely managed to pull his punch, his momentum carrying him forward as he scrambled to slow down.
But these boys had no real combat experience—just brute force and reckless aggression. Their training was a joke, their reflexes and body control pathetic.
Trying to change direction on the fly, the boy managed to stop his fist but lost control of his feet. He tripped over himself, and with his upper body still carrying forward momentum, he pitched face-first toward the ground.
Seeing this, Sarah simply released True's collar and gave him a shove forward before dancing aside.
The stumbling boy crashed directly into True. The two tangled together, tumbling forward in a flailing heap before crashing to the ground in a thoroughly undignified pile.
Sarah then used her agility to dart around the remaining attackers, weaving between them like a monkey, targeting their soft spots, never meeting force with force. Her strikes had them yelping and howling.
After getting hammered a few times trying to fight head-on, Allen quickly realized he couldn't match these bigger kids in a straight-up brawl. The pain had him breaking out in cold sweat.
Watching Sarah's tactics, inspiration struck. He abandoned all pretense of fair fighting and copied her approach shamelessly. Being even smaller, he was even harder to catch. These untrained thugs couldn't lay a hand on him—though he still caught the occasional wild swing.
Dick, showing admirable self-awareness, knew his own limitations. He didn't try to engage directly at all. Instead, he slipped outside the crowd and started pelting them with pebbles.
The stones didn't do real damage, but they stung. When one of the thugs tried to chase him down after getting hit, Dick simply retreated beyond the crowd, never giving them a chance to catch him.
Within moments, the fight had become completely one-sided. The onlookers watched two small figures dart around the gang, while the boys who'd been so cocky moments ago now covered their heads and scrambled about, utterly helpless.
But just then, two of the attackers seemed to receive some kind of signal. Ignoring the punishment they were taking, they pressed desperately toward Sarah's position.
Sarah retreated without hesitation, backing steadily toward the edge of the crowd.
As she moved backward, a short-haired girl with a nose ring emerged from the spectators, positioning herself directly in Sarah's path. She slowly raised her hands, eyes locked on her target's back.
The two boys spotted her and allowed themselves hidden, malicious smiles. Clearly, they knew her.
The moment Sarah's back entered striking range, the nose-ring girl's eyes gleamed with triumph. Her body leaned forward slightly as her hands shot out to push—
But before her hands traveled even halfway, another hand appeared from beside her, clamping down on her wrist. A cool male voice spoke from just beside her:
"Attacking from behind isn't very sporting, you know."