The sound of footsteps echoed through the city alleys. A person ran, gasping for breath, muscles straining to the limit. Three men followed closely, shouting threats that bounced off the damp walls, their steps gradually slowing as fatigue began to weigh on them.
"Stop!" one growled, panting. "You've got nowhere to run."
"I'm going to break your fucking legs!" another hissed, his voice rough and ragged.
He skidded around a sharp corner, barely keeping his balance as his chest heaved. There was no time to think, only to keep moving.
He twisted left, feeling the heat of his pursuers closing in. Every step echoed in his ears, reminding him that he had been running for too long and couldn't stop now.
One final turn threw him into a narrower passage, where the shadows seemed to close in around him. His legs shook, adrenaline starting to fade, but he didn't slow down. Each alley became a labyrinth that trapped him further, each shadow behind him a living threat.
Gradually, the footsteps behind him began to slow, the pursuers' breathing heavy and uneven, but they still gained on him.
Finally, he reached a wall blocking the way forward. There was no escape. He took a deep breath, assessing the situation.
Three figures emerged from the shadows, blocking the only exit. Their cruel smiles were illuminated by a flickering streetlamp, their slow, heavy steps revealing their fatigue.
"Did you really think you could run forever?you're just as stupid as your dad " one said, as the others closed the circle.
The young man stopped, panting, muscles taut. There was no way out. He was cornered—but his gaze stayed steady.
He thought: "Fine. You leave me no choice."
They closed in slowly, boots thudding against the damp pavement in an uneven rhythm. Their breathing was harsh, heavy, filling the narrow alley.
The one in front advanced with a twisted grin, cracking his knuckles as if announcing what was about to come.
"Look at you…" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "All that running, just to end up cornered like a bitch."
The other two stayed silent, watching with a mix of disdain and patience. Their slow steps, their mere presence, were enough to close the circle.
The young man took a deep breath and lifted his gaze. His body was tired, his legs still trembling from the chase, but his eyes never left them.
Then he raised his arms and settled into a firm guard. Elbows tucked in, fists tight, left shoulder slightly forward. His legs spread at a solid angle, right foot set a little back, knees bent, and his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to push forward or slip sideways. It was a clear message: he wasn't going to surrender—he was going to fight.
The leader laughed out loud.
"What's that? You gonna teach us how to dance?" he spat, mocking. "Let's see how long that pose lasts when I smash your face in."
As soon as the leader stepped within reach of his leg, the young man spun sharply on his heel and delivered a powerful strike with his right heel to the jaw. The leader didn't even have time to react; the crack echoed through the damp alley, and his body jerked backward, hitting the ground hard and kicking up a small cloud of dust and debris.
The other two froze for a moment, eyes wide, stunned at the sight of their companion hitting the pavement. The echo of the fall seemed to fill every corner of the alley.
The man on the right blinked, quickly recovering his composure. His eyes narrowed, fists clenched, and he drew a knife that glinted under the flickering streetlamp.
The young man lunged toward him, but it was only a feint. As the attacker tried to stab, the protagonist backstepped slightly and landed a clean jab to the face, making the man's jaw snap back.
Before the knife could strike again, he followed up with a swift kick to the attacker's hand, knocking the knife away. The metal clattered against the pavement, and the attacker's hand throbbed with pain—but he stayed on his feet, breathing hard as he assessed the situation.
The last man, who had remained a step behind, attacked from the left, throwing a right punch. The young man stepped back, narrowly avoiding it. The attacker followed with a left hook; the protagonist ducked and countered with a solid body shot
He then spun into a right hook to the face, immediately followed by a left kick to the attacker's liver, forcing him to double over with a groan. The young man finished with a the right knee to the face, sending him crashing to the ground.
The alley fell silent for a moment. The protagonist's heavy breathing filled the space. The man with the knife, hand throbbing and gasping for air, evaluated the scene. Seeing that his companion was out of the fight and that he couldn't face the young man alone, he took a few cautious steps back, recovered some composure, and then turned to flee down a side alley, disappearing into the shadows.
The young man breathed heavily, his body still trembling from the adrenaline and exhaustion of the chase and the fight. He could see the man with the knife disappear into the shadows, but he had neither the strength nor the desire to pursue him. He knew that if he lingered, the two knocked-out men might recover and complicate his exit.
He pulled the hood of his black jacket over his head, covering part of his face. Without wasting time, he started jogging down the alley, keeping his head low and his senses alert. Each step took him further from danger and closer to the safety of his home.
The alley fell silent and empty behind him. In the shadows, a figure stood watching the young man in silence, calm and still.