The alley shook as Leo's desperate shout, "Help me!" rang out, the ring on his finger flaring with a sudden, eerie glow. The three thugs froze mid-step, their knives catching the dim light of a flickering mana-lamp. "What's this fucker doing?" the scruffy one muttered, scratching his beard with a puzzled frown. "Some cheap trick to scare us off?" the second thug hissed, tightening his grip on his blade, his eyes narrowing. The leader, a wiry guy with a crooked grin and a scar across his cheek, waved his knife with a sneer. "Doesn't matter—slice him to bits!" he barked, lunging forward with a wild swing.
But then, a strange surge hit Leo like a jolt of electricity, coursing through his veins. His heart raced as a faint voice whispered in his mind, calm yet cryptic: "Power granted: Shinji Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion." "Who's that?" Leo mumbled under his breath, clueless about the name, but the energy took hold. It wasn't some epic strength—just average human power, nothing fancy—but it was enough to spark a fire in him. "Time to wipe those ugly grins off your sorry faces!" he growled, dodging the leader's slash with a clumsy sidestep, his adrenaline-fueled instincts kicking in.
"You little motherfucker!" the leader snarled, rubbing his jaw as Leo's fist smashed into it, sending him staggering back with a curse. The scruffy thug charged next, knife raised. "You'll regret that, you brat!" he yelled, aiming for Leo's side. Leo spotted a rusty pipe lying in the muck, grabbing it with a grunt. He swung hard, the metal clanging against the thug's knee with a satisfying thud. "Ouch! You'll pay for that, you freak!" the thug yelped, hopping back and clutching his leg, his face twisted in pain. The second thug circled around, sneering, "Think you're tough now, huh?" Leo spun on his heel, smacking the pipe into the guy's gut with a loud smack. "Eat dirt, you slimy shit!" he barked, watching the thug double over with a groan, gasping for air.
The leader recovered, fury blazing in his eyes. "Get him, you idiots! Don't let this kid win!" he roared, charging again with his knife gleaming. Leo ducked low, the blade whistling overhead, and slammed the pipe down on the leader's shoulder. "Take that, you filthy thief!" he shouted, the impact sending the guy sprawling into the alley's wet dirt with a splash. The thug's knife skittered away, and he groaned, "You're dead meat, kid!" The scruffy one limped forward, swinging wildly. "I'll gut you!" he hissed, but Leo sidestepped, cracking the pipe against his wrist. "Try again, loser!" Leo taunted, the thug yelping as his knife dropped.
The second thug, still wheezing, tried to flank him. "You're done, punk!" he spat, lunging with a clumsy stab. Leo twisted, slamming the pipe into the guy's shin. "Not today, you coward!" he snapped, the thug collapsing with a cry. The leader crawled up, blood trickling from his lip. "You'll pay for this—get him!" he wheezed, but his crew was too battered to move. Leo swung the pipe one last time, clipping the leader's hand, the knife clattering away again. "Had enough, you sorry bunch?" Leo panted, standing over them as they groaned and cursed. The fight was a messy brawl—punches thrown, grunts echoing, and the thugs ending up a bruised, whimpering heap, too beaten to stand. "Run back to your holes!" Leo shouted, his voice rough with effort.
Breathing hard, Leo felt the ring's glow fade, the power slipping away after a wild minute. His arms ached, his knee throbbed from the earlier fall, but a grin tugged at his lips—he'd done it. He knelt, gathering the granny's purse from the dirt, its contents—scattered coins, a faded photo of a young girl—spilling out. Staggering out of the alley, he emerged into the street where the old lady stood, trembling, her eyes wide with fear. "Here, ma'am," he said, handing over the purse, his voice hoarse. "Oh, thank you, young man," she whispered, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. "Those brutes—bless your heart." "Just doing what's right," Leo mumbled, too exhausted to say more, and turned to limp home, the weight of the fight settling into his bones.
Back in his cramped apartment, the flickering bulb buzzed overhead, casting jagged shadows across the peeling walls. Leo sank onto his lumpy mattress, wincing as he stretched out his sore muscles. He pulled out a scrap of paper and a stubby pencil, jotting down his thoughts with a shaky hand. "Power is random. Can be weak or OP. Today was weak—Shinji, whoever that is. Beat those thugs, though. Messy, but it worked." He paused, rubbing his bruised knuckles, the memory of their groans still fresh. The ring on his finger suddenly glowed again, a soft light that made him sit up. Curious, he slid it on fully, and a voice echoed in his head, calm but firm. "Warrior...If you don't strengthen your mana, you can't use me three times a day. For now, you've gained a little mana from recent fights. You can use me every 3 days later."
"What? Mana?" Leo stammered aloud, glancing around the empty room as if expecting an answer. "How do I even do that?" The voice stayed silent....., leaving him staring at the ring, its glow dimming. "Huh.....Guess I gotta figure that out," he muttered, tossing the pencil onto the paper. He leaned back, mind spinning. "Recent fights—dungeon, then those thugs—gave me some mana? But every 3 days? That's way too slow." He frowned, tapping the paper with his finger. "Need to strengthen my mana. Maybe training? Or more dungeons?" The idea sent a shiver down his spine—dungeons had nearly killed him—but the ring's promise kept him hooked. "One of a kind," he whispered, touching its cool surface. "Gotta make it work, somehow."
He stood, pacing the small room, the floor creaking under his weight. "Korran said blanks don't last," he mumbled to himself. "But this ring… it's different. Shinji wasn't strong, just human, but it was enough to smash those thugs. What if next time it's weaker? Or if I run out of uses?" He stopped, staring out the window at the city's distant lights, the hum of mana-trams a faint lullaby. "Mana training—where do I start? Academy? Some old hunter trick?" He shook his head, the uncertainty gnawing at him. The core from the wyrm, hidden under his mattress, flashed in his mind—a potential clue, maybe a bargaining chip. "Could sell it for cash… or use it to learn mana stuff," he thought aloud. But the risk of the Association finding it loomed large.
Sitting back down, he picked up the paper again. "Need a plan. Strengthen mana, use the ring smart. Three days wait is rough, but it's something." He sketched a rough list—train at school, ask Korran discreetly, maybe hit a low-rank dungeon with the core's power. "Gotta get stronger," he said, his voice firming. The ring sat on his finger, a silent partner in this new fight. The city's noise filtered through, a world unaware of his secret, but Leo felt a flicker of hope. He didn't know the limits yet, but he'd figure it out—one step at a time.