The alley reeked of stale refuse and damp earth, a narrow cut between two crumbling, colonial-era buildings in the older district of Laoag. It was a common haunt for the kind of youths who preferred to enact their cruelty away from the eyes of adults. And it was exactly where Elias, or rather, Orion, had been cornered.
He'd anticipated this. After his quiet, unwavering threat to the household staff, word had likely spread. The bullies, led by a sneering boy named Mateo, whose father owned half the rice paddies outside the city, wouldn't tolerate such defiance from the "weakling noble." Elias had deliberately taken a route he knew they frequented, a quiet challenge in the humid afternoon air.
Mateo stepped forward, a smug grin twisting his face. Two of his cronies flanked him, bigger and broader, their fists already clenching. "Well, well, if it isn't Orion. Heard you've grown a backbone, Princeling," Mateo sneered, emphasizing the insult. "Think you're tough now, eh? After hiding in your room for weeks?"
Elias said nothing. His mind, however, was a whirlwind. He calculated distances, assessed the crude weapons some of them held – a thick stick, a rusty chain. He felt the familiar, exhilarating hum of a mission about to begin. The dagger, the Dagger of the Unseen, was sheathed discreetly at his inner forearm, purchased with his hard-earned points. He hadn't just bought it; he'd willed it into existence, its cold steel now a part of him.
Mateo lunged first, a clumsy, overconfident swing aimed at Orion's face. The old Orion would have flinched, fallen, and curled into a ball. Elias, however, moved with a speed that defied the boy's frail body. He pivoted, the punch whistling past his ear, and then his elbow snapped back, catching Mateo hard in the stomach. The air rushed out of Mateo's lungs in a pained gasp, and he doubled over.
Before Mateo's cronies could react, Elias moved again. His hand flashed to his forearm. The Dagger of the Unseen was in his grip, glinting wickedly. He didn't aim to kill, not yet, but to disable, to instill fear. He spun, the blade a blur, and slashed at the arm of the boy with the stick. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was enough to draw blood, a thin line across the bully's forearm. The boy screamed, dropping the stick with a clatter.
The other crony, stunned, fumbled with his rusty chain. Elias didn't wait. He closed the distance in two quick strides, his free hand gripping the boy's wrist, twisting it sharply. There was a sickening crack, and the boy cried out, clutching his now-useless arm.
Mateo, still gasping for air, looked up from the ground, his eyes wide with terror. This wasn't Orion. This was something else. Something cold and deadly. Elias stood over him, the dagger held loosely, its tip pointing to the grimy ground. His breathing was calm, even. The adrenaline that would have left the old Orion shaking now sharpened Elias's senses.
Ruthless action. 200 Points Gained. Fearless action. 50 Points Gained. Bold action. 100 Points Gained. Efficient Combat. 50 Points Gained. Total Points: 400. Current Balance: 650 Points.
The surge of points was intoxicating, a validation of his actions. This was his language, this was his power. He looked down at Mateo, who was scrambling backward, fear replacing all traces of his former arrogance.
"If you ever touch Guin again," Elias said, his voice low, steady, and utterly devoid of the usual childish whine, "you will regret it. This is a promise."
The threat wasn't a child's tantrum. It was a cold, absolute vow. He turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the three terrified, whimpering boys behind. The game had truly begun.