The bar that had been filled with drunken shouting the night before was eerily quiet now. Oil lamps swayed faintly in the corners, their dim light pushing shadows against the wooden walls. The air reeked of stale alcohol and smoke, heavy enough to make anyone choke.
But out back, a new kind of noise was rising.
A rough circle had been cleared, formed from overturned barrels, rickety stools, and tables dragged aside. Dozens of bandits sat around it, grinning with anticipation. They looked like children waiting for the circus to begin.
Inside that circle stood Ren. His school uniform was wrinkled, his hair a wild mess, and his eyes half-closed as if he had just crawled out of bed. He even yawned, scratching his belly like he had no idea what was going on.
Across from him, a bandit stepped forward. He was one of the men who had stumbled across Ren lying unconscious in the forest just days ago. At the time, he'd thought the kid would be easy loot. But things had changed. A different order had been given—by him.
"Boss… do I really have to fight this brat?" the bandit muttered nervously, glancing at the tall figure seated on a long bench a little distance away.
That man didn't bother to answer in words. His eyes alone cut through the air, cold and sharp.
The bandit swallowed hard, his throat going dry. "N-no, of course not, Boss! I'll do it!" He drew his short sword, trying to puff himself up.
Ren blinked at him, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "Oh, so you're my opponent? Okay! But don't cry if you lose."
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
"HAHAHA! Did you hear that?"
"This brat's got a big mouth!"
The bandit's face turned red. "Damn kid… I'll shut you up!"
---
The duel began.
The bandit lunged in immediately, blade flashing under the flickering light. The strike was aimed clean at Ren's shoulder—an easy kill.
Everyone thought it would be over in one swing.
But Ren suddenly ducked, not with skill but like someone tripping over his own feet. The sword cut nothing but air.
"Huh?" the bandit muttered.
Ren straightened up, grinning wide. "Wow! That was close! Good thing my head suddenly felt like looking at the floor."
The circle of bandits howled with laughter again. But a few of them narrowed their eyes. For all its stupidity, that move had saved him.
The bandit clicked his tongue and slashed again, faster, harder.
Ren stumbled, fell, leaned too far back—each time the blade barely missed him. His movements looked clumsy, stupid even, but somehow they worked.
"What the hell is with this kid?!" a voice in the crowd shouted.
"He keeps falling, but nothing hits!"
Ren was sweating buckets now, panting. "Ugh… dodging over and over is kinda tiring."
The bandit snarled, veins bulging on his neck. "Stop screwing around, brat!" He lunged forward with a thrust straight for Ren's chest.
Ren froze for a split second, then his body moved on its own. His hand slapped the man's arm aside, his torso twisted, and the blade slid past him by inches.
Ren stared at his hand in shock. "Eh?! Did… did I just do that?!"
From his seat, the mysterious man allowed himself the faintest of smiles. That wasn't luck…
The bandit, now truly furious, bared his teeth. "You think that was skill? Don't make me laugh! You're just a stupid kid riding on dumb luck!"
Ren lowered his head, his chest heaving. For the first time, his expression turned serious. "Alright then… I'll use my ultimate move."
The crowd erupted again.
"HAHAHA! An ultimate move, he says!"
"This I gotta see!"
Ren lifted one leg high in the air, wobbling dangerously, then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Behold! The secret technique passed down for thousands of years…!!!"
The bandit froze mid-step, then laughed in his face. "Go ahead, show me your stupid trick!"
Ren jumped, kicking forward with all his strength. His voice rang through the night:
"HEAVENLY KICK OF LINEAGE EXTERMINATION!!!"
His foot drove straight down—landing squarely between the bandit's legs.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The scream ripped through the yard. The bandit folded like a paper doll, his face draining of color as he crashed to the ground, writhing like a dying insect.
Silence.
Then—
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The entire circle exploded with laughter. Some bandits rolled on the ground, clutching their stomachs. Others slammed their fists on the dirt, gasping for breath.
"Did you see that?!"
"He went straight for the family jewels!!"
"HAHAHAHA, what kind of technique IS that?!"
The poor victim could only curl up tighter, groaning miserably.
Ren straightened, drenched in sweat, chest puffed out with pride. "Hah… nailed it! The family's secret move never fails."
The laughter doubled, tears streaming down faces.
But the man on the bench did not laugh. He remained silent, watching Ren intently. His lips curled faintly, but not in amusement. This boy… stupid, naive, yet his instincts are sharp. Too sharp.
Ren turned toward him, grinning like an idiot. "So… I win, right?"
The man finally rose to his feet. The crowd's laughter immediately died down, replaced with nervous silence.
He stepped into the circle, standing over Ren and the fallen bandit. His gaze lingered on the boy for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Yes. You win."
Cheers erupted again, mixed with laughter, admiration, and disbelief.
Ren rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Phew… good thing. I really thought I was about to get sliced into pieces."
The man's eyes gleamed faintly, shadows hiding his true thoughts. This boy… he might be trouble. Or perhaps… something else entirely.