Ryan woke to the dull, throbbing ache of his own body. It wasn't the sharp pain from a single injury—it was everywhere, deep in his muscles, like someone had poured cement into his veins while he slept.
He tried lifting his arms. Big mistake.A jolt of pain shot from his shoulders down to his wrists, and he winced so hard it made his jaw clench. His ribs joined in, a dull protest every time his lungs expanded.
Still, when he pulled up his status panel, a flicker of satisfaction broke through the misery.
[Strength: D]
[Endurance: D+]
A small bump. Barely more than a step up—but in his current state, it felt like proof that yesterday had been worth something.
"…Heh," he breathed, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Then reality dropped like a weight.He had to do all of that again. And again. Every single day until the inter-club tournament.
He let out a long groan and let his head fall back against the thin pillow. "Hell. I've basically signed up for hell."
But hell was better than where he'd been. Better than sitting in a cramped bathroom stall during lunch just to avoid getting jumped.
Better than the bruises he had to hide under long sleeves.
At least now, the pain in his body was from something he chose.
"Yeah," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll take this over that any day."
The gym was still quiet when he left. No Arthur today—he'd locked up the place after last night's insane punching bag display.
Morning light spilled through the hallway windows, but it didn't feel warm. His legs felt like they were dragging through sand.
His gaze stayed on the floor as he made his way toward the main school building, mind drifting.
He barely registered the shadow falling across his path until—
Thud.
His shoulder smacked into something solid. Hard.
Ryan stumbled back a step, blinking up—then froze.
Four guys stood in a loose formation in front of him, blocking the hallway like a wall of concrete.
Not the friendly kind of upperclassmen. These were the kind of students teachers pretended not to see.
The one closest to him was tall and wiry, with a buzz of black hair and tattoo ink curling out from under his rolled-up sleeves.
His shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing a mess of scars across his collarbone.
Next to him was a broad-shouldered guy with a scar that started at the corner of his mouth and ran down to his jaw, a silver chain glinting against his chest.
His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but his posture screamed predator.
Leaning casually against the lockers was a gum-chewer, jaw working slow and steady, eyes scanning Ryan like he was deciding where to start carving.
The last one stood slightly behind, shorter than the rest but with a stare sharp enough to cut glass. His fists flexed and unflexed like he was warming up for something ugly.
Ryan's pulse kicked up instantly. His body moved before his brain, taking a couple of small steps back. "S-sorry. I wasn't—"
The scarred one stepped forward, leaning in until Ryan could smell the stale cigarette smoke and cheap cologne on his breath.
"You can't see what's in front of you, chubby bastard?" His voice was calm, almost quiet—but there was something in it that made Ryan's spine stiffen.
"I… I wasn't paying attention," Ryan stammered, avoiding his eyes.
The buzz-cut guy circled halfway around him, resting a heavy hand on Ryan's shoulder. His grip was firm enough to make Ryan feel like he couldn't move even if he wanted to. "Yo, newbie," he drawled, drawing out every word, "watch your place, you shit-ass. We'll let you go with a nice one punch each. Sounds fair, right?"
Ryan's pulse was pounding now. "No, please, just let me—"
The gum-chewer didn't wait for him to finish. His fist came up fast, aiming straight for Ryan's jaw.
Ryan's body reacted on its own. His right arm shot up, palm open, forearm angled just right—and the punch slammed into it instead of his face.
Thock!
The shock ran through his arm, but he held firm.
For a second, the hallway was silent. The gum-chewer froze mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up.
Ryan blinked, looking down at his own arm like it wasn't even his.
'I… I blocked that punch?'
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. The other three exchanged quick looks—not fear, not yet, but definite surprise.
A chime echoed in his head.
[DING! New Quest: Escape without any scratches.]
[Reward: Information about the school gang hierarchy.]
Ryan's eyes darted between the four of them. Surprise wouldn't last long—and when it faded, they'd swing harder. His heartbeat drummed against his ribs.
If he was getting out of this in one piece… it had to be now.