Gil moved fast—so fast and so brusquely that he even took Hector's partner by surprise before they could react.
But his strike hit nothing.
Gil stood frozen in place as his fist met only empty air.
That man, Hector, was gone.
Without movement, without a sound; one moment he was there, the next he was not.
The chains snapped tight with a loud crack, but... too late.
From behind him, a voice drifted:
"That was rude."
Gil tensed and slowly turned.
Hector stood there untouched, as relaxed as ever.
Of course it wouldn't be that easy, Gil thought.
Pushing aside his unease and questions about how the man did it, he struck again.
This time, it was a sharp, quick kick from his right leg, aimed straight at the man's torso.
A bigger target, easier to reach.
But the scene repeated itself.
This time, Hector reappeared to his left, arms crossed and head tilted as if to say,
Is that it ?
Gil was enraged and—though he wouldn't admit it—a bit scared now.
But he didn't falter.
He threw a volley of punches at the man, as fast as he could.
He punched, kicked, and even tried to tackle and grapple, doing his best to reach his foe.
Yet, his enemy stayed undaunted.
A slight tilt of the head or torso, a single step to the side, or a sudden vanishing—that was all it ever took for Hector to handle the young man's assault.
As it became increasingly obvious that Hector held the upper hand, he disappeared again, reappearing behind Gil.
When Gil reacted and turned to face him, Hector moved.
A single step.
He raised a finger, pointed, and thrust it toward Gil.
It seemed to happen slowly, too slowly, yet Gil almost couldn't react.
His body just wouldn't move.
The finger grew, filling his vision, coming closer and closer.
The chains, too, reacted, snapping and lunging forward.
"—!"
Mustering all his strength, Gil raised his hands to guard himself, but it didn't matter.
The finger kept coming closer. And closer.
...Then it stopped.
Just inches away from his eyes.
Gil's body, in spite of himself, trembled slightly.
Slowly, painfully, he lifted his gaze to Hector.
The man stood there silent, a faint, teasing smile on his lips.
Gil's trembling worsened.
He knew by now that he was no match for Hector. He couldn't even touch the man, and that stung him deeply.
Thinking about his parting words to El, his throat tightened.
Though he had guessed earlier that he was going into danger, it was only now that he finally tasted firsthand what he was up against.
And his conclusion was that he would probably not see El any time soon... if at all.
This was not his usual brawl on the streets or at El's club.
His opponent wasn't even taking him seriously, and yet Gil was already unable to fight back.
What does he want with me?
Bitterness filled his mouth, as he couldn't make head or tails of it all.
What would become of him if he got caught ?
He wondered, a bit distracted.
But in a fight, being distracted often spells one's doom.
Fortunately for Gil, his opponent was still playing with him.
Hector appeared near him and made him trip.
Face down, tiredness and negativity threatened to swallow him whole.
Hector paused his assault and looked at him in silence.
As he felt the weight of that gaze, he struggled to stand up, becoming vaguely aware of the creeping chains.
Without him knowing when, some had already wrapped around his feet.Ironically, it was their cold touch that snapped him out of the haze beginning to cloud his thoughts.
A glow flashed in his amber eyes.
"—No!"
he bellowed, gritting his teeth until they bled.
So what if that bastard is stronger?
He is human too; he must have a weakness.
What of it if his means are strange?
He, Gil, wasn't just anyone either.
Since when did it become so easy to take me down?!
He raised a hand, curled his fingers into a fist, and punched—this time, straight into his own face.
Blood splashed.
Gil lifted his head, the glow in his eyes burning stronger.
He smiled widely at Hector, blood trickling down his chin.
"Again!"
Hector raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.
He just stood there, watching.
He couldn't quite place it, but something had changed in the kid.
It was subtle, too slight to make a definitive judgment, but... it was there.
And that made him raise his guard, just a fraction.
The chains recoiled slightly, but Gil didn't notice.
Before Hector could ponder further, Gil pounced.
The strikes were the same as before, and for a while, they yielded the same results.
Yet Gil didn't get discouraged; far from it.
He continued with even more ardor, his movements fueled by a newfound determination.
Still, in vain, he couldn't get close enough to land a hit.
Meanwhile, Hector began to doubt himself.
He could have sworn that something, somewhere inside Gil, had changed.
Perhaps it was still changing.
His senses told him so, and like Gil, he trusted his senses.
But because of that, he couldn't understand the situation in front of him.
The kid was changing, yet he seemed the same.
His strikes remained basic, with nothing more to them.
Though the strength behind them had augmented slightly, that was all.
He looked and looked again as he continued to dodge Gil's assault, but his expectations turned to disappointment.
The kid's breath grew ragged from exertion.
His speed began to drop as time passed.
His balance faltered many times as he struggled to keep up.
Besides that... nothing.
Aside from a teenager throwing punches and kicks in vain, he couldn't see anything else.
Seems like I got excited for nothing, he thought.
Disappointment and boredom crept in.
Hector decided he had played enough; it was time to end this.
Then it happened—
"—!?"
A fist appeared near his face.
Much nearer than any of Gil's previous attacks since the beginning of their confrontation.
Hector dodged just in time, instantly creating more distance between them.
A fluke? he wondered.
Silence settled in the hallway.
Hector's face grew solemn.
Lifting his head, he looked at Gil and immediately dismissed the idea that the boy had simply gotten lucky.
Because now, he could see it clearly—Gil's eyes...
They were burning dimly in the dark.