Chapter 9 – The Slums (Part 2)
Jack walked deeper into the slums, unbothered by the stares that followed him from every corner. The hollow-eyed people watched as though he were prey straying into a den of predators, yet Jack's steps never faltered. He was completely aware of their eyes, their silent hunger, but none of it troubled him in the slightest.
They were frail, weak, and hopeless. Nothing more than shadows of human beings, so pathetic that even if a mob of them attacked at once, Jack was certain he could handle it without breaking a sweat.
'Hmm. I wonder where he lives,' Jack mused, recalling the descriptions he had read. 'The novel painted the scene vividly, but this place is vast. Finding his home by wandering around might take forever. Should I just ask someone directly?'
"Hey, you! Right there!"
A rough voice snapped him from his thoughts. Jack turned, his gaze falling on a group of boys no older than him making their way over. Judging by their ragged clothes, hardened expressions, and swaggering gait, they were clearly slum rats born and bred.
The tallest among them, a scar-faced boy with shoulders broader than the rest, stepped forward. His scar twisted when he sneered, giving his face a menacing edge.
"What's a snow-white like you doing here?"
Jack's expression remained calm. He didn't even look up from the phone he'd pulled out, scrolling across the city map once again. "And why is that any of your business? Just walk away."
His focus lingered on the glowing screen. 'The protagonist's house should be in the outer rings of the slums. That's where the description fits best… I think.'
"What did you just say?"
The boys fanned out, circling him like wolves closing in on their prey. The atmosphere shifted. Their narrowed eyes and clenched fists betrayed their intent.
"You look pretty rich," the scarred boy said coldly. "Why don't you hand over some cash?"
Jack sighed as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. 'I expected this. Doesn't make it any less irritating.'
"I really don't have time for this," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "If you're smart, you'll walk away. I'll even spare you."
The group froze. Then laughter erupted around him.
"Hahaha! Did you hear that?"
"This guy's hilarious."
"Spare us? What's he gonna do? He's alone."
"Just give us your money before we—"
One boy reached out to grab Jack's shoulder, but his hand never landed.
Jack's arm blurred. His fingers clamped around the boy's wrist with impressive speed, locking it in an iron grip.
The boy blinked, confused at first, then tried to pull back. His eyes widened. He couldn't budge an inch.
"What the—?"
The grip tightened. Slowly, inexorably.
"Let go, bastard!!" the boy shouted, thrashing wildly, throwing punches, trying to shove Jack away.
Jack's hold only grew firmer. The pressure became unbearable. The boy's knees buckled, his face twisted with pain as he let out a raw scream.
"LET GO!! YOU'RE BREAKING MY WRI—"
CRACK!
A sickening snap echoed through the alley. The boy's shriek followed, shrill and broken. His wrist bent at an unnatural angle, his body collapsing to the ground as he clutched the injury, rolling and howling in agony.
The others froze, horror etching itself across their faces.
Jack released him and dusted off his hand casually. "It isn't broken. Just dislocated. He can fix it himself."
Silence.
Jack adjusted his hoodie and stepped forward. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"
Instinctively, the group parted, moving aside as though their bodies obeyed before their minds caught up. Even the scarred leader flinched. His expression shifted between disbelief and rage.
'How…? With just one squeeze? That strength—'
He shook his head violently, anger flashing in his eyes. "You bastard! Who said you could leave? Get him!"
The others gritted their teeth, their pride flaring as they rushed forward together. They weren't pushovers in their world. Even if one of them had fallen, they still outnumbered him easily. They couldn't let a stranger humiliate them and walk away.
Jack exhaled, his voice carrying cold disdain. "This is why you belong here."
He dropped into a stance. In the next heartbeat, his fist shot forward like a bullet.
BANG!
The nearest boy was launched backward, blood and teeth spraying from his mouth. Jack pivoted, spinning smoothly as his heel slammed into another's gut. The force doubled the boy over, air exploding from his lungs as he crumpled.
Two more grabbed hold of him, clinging desperately, trying to pull him down. Their plan was simple: overwhelm him with numbers.
But Jack wasn't just strong—he was on an entirely different level. His strength dwarfed theirs completely.
He shook one off with a violent tug, the boy flying like a ragdoll. His hand closed around the other's throat, lifting him clean off the ground. The boy's eyes bulged, his nails scratching desperately at Jack's forearm.
Jack slammed a punch into his ribs before hurling him aside like trash.
"Agh… agh…"
"Cough! Cough!"
"My teeth! My teeth!!"
The cries of agony filled the street. The gang writhed, broken and helpless, staring up at him with terror.
For the first time in their short lives, they had been crushed—completely, absolutely—by a single person. The scene was grotesque, their faces bruised, their bodies trembling in pain.
Around them, passersby froze. Eyes widened, jaws slackened. No one dared speak.
Jack cast one last look over the group, his gaze sharp with contempt. Then he turned away, his stride unbroken, his expression cold and untouched by what had transpired.
No one followed. No one even breathed until he vanished around the corner.
"Finding this place is trickier than I thought," Jack muttered after some time.
He stopped at the edge of a cracked sidewalk, pulling out his phone again to study the detailed city map. His eyes swept over the clusters of houses, filtering for anything that matched the descriptions in his memory.
Nothing.
"Where is the protagonist's house?" His brows furrowed.
That was the entire reason he had come here—to check on the main character. To see where he lived, what he was doing, and whether there was anything worth noting. Because once the story began in earnest, events would spiral rapidly, chaos unfolding one after another without pause.
This wasn't some small tale. It was epic fantasy. The scale would be enormous, and Jack needed to be ready.
'Humble beginnings can be taken advantage of,' he thought. 'If I can figure out how to steer the protagonist away from my path, I'll spare myself a mountain of trouble later.'
With that, he pressed on. He tried questioning a few locals along the way, but the responses were either evasive or useless. Most avoided him outright, suspicious of his clothes and demeanor.
Two hours passed. Jack roamed the labyrinthine slums, alleys twisting endlessly. He checked countless houses, each time comparing them against the mental image he carried. Nothing matched.
"This is turning into more of a headache than I imagined," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. I've looked almost everywhere I can, but this place is vast, tangled. Finding a single house here might be impossible.
"HAAAAAH!!"
A sudden yell pierced the air, startling him out of his thoughts.
Jack's head snapped up. "Hm?"
"HAAAAAH!!"
The sound came again, loud, forceful.
At first, he dismissed it. In the slums, shouts and screams were as common as the stink of rot. But there was something about this one—its rhythm, its persistence—that tugged at him.
Curiosity stirred.
He followed the noise, weaving through alleys and side paths until he stepped into a small, open square surrounded by decrepit buildings.
There, in the center, was a lone silhouette.
The boy's body rose and fell in steady rhythm, his arms pumping against the cracked ground.
Push-ups.