After the soldiers violently and repeatedly struck Jhony's limp body, they finally stepped away, panting. They left him stretched out on the carriage floor, severely wounded, bloodied, and seemingly devoid of the strength to fight back. His body barely moved as blood pooled slowly, tracing crimson stains across the light-colored floor. Convinced the job was done, the three military men calmly returned to their seats.
However, in the oppressive silence that followed, a singular noise echoed through the room. A dull thud. A firm step.
The soldiers turned simultaneously. Jhony was standing.
His body was completely flanked by blood, and the upper part of his blue pants was saturated in bright red. He breathed with difficulty, but he stood upright, holding a gaze of pure hatred directed at the three of them.
"You really think you're going to defeat me, you vermin!"
Jhony lifted his head, stared into the soldiers' faces, and roared with all the vigor he had left:
"I WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED BY WEAKLINGS LIKE YOU!!"
Despite his grave injuries, he forced his body to straighten up. He cracked his knuckles, then his wrists, ignoring the searing pain. Immediately, he began to charge toward his aggressors, leaving a trail of blood droplets across the carriage's white carpet.
Meanwhile, in the parallel dimension of the train, Yasoke continued to question Yuji.
"So Yuji, what does a Macogo master actually do?"
Yuji naturally came down from his handstand and started performing squats in the middle of the aisle. Yasoke watched him with a clear expression of perplexity, wondering about the man's peculiar behavior.
"Macogo masters are usually bums, mostly old-timers; they're really only important in wars or strategy. As you can see, I'm on the 'bum' team."
Yuji erupted into a loud, almost uncontrollable laughter, as if his own statement were immensely comical. Yasoke forced a polite smile, but his mind drifted elsewhere. He could only think of Jhony.
"Dammit, these bastards are annoying."
At that moment, Jhony was already more weakened than before. One of the soldiers began concentrating energy in his hands again, but this time, he didn't shape a square; he joined his hands in a circular symbol. At the center of the shape, a sphere of energy began to condense. The sphere was fired violently, striking the side of Jhony's torso and fracturing several ribs simultaneously.
He suppressed a scream of pain.
The three soldiers advanced together, delivering an uninterrupted succession of punches to Jhony's face, while kicks landed on his lower limbs. A precise blow to the jaw caused him to lose consciousness and collapse heavily. His eyes lost focus and he coughed up blood as his vision gradually darkened.
Yet, deep inside him, something still resisted.
"Maybe we hit this guy too hard," one of the soldiers commented, showing a certain discomfort with the youth's deplorable state. Another promptly disagreed, claiming the punishment was still insufficient.
To Jhony, that fight represented weakness—proof that he lacked the mettle necessary to face formidable opponents. Despite this self-critical thought, he rose again. His eyes regained their color and focus. He took his combat stance. The soldiers, astonished, lunged to strike him once more.
Jhony could barely maintain his balance. The aggressors split up and began the beating: a punch from the right sent him to the left; another blow pushed him back; a third launched him forward. Jhony fell again.
In that moment, a memory invaded his mind.
"Yasoke, that's your name, isn't it?" Yuji asks. Yasoke nods. "That friend of yours is a good fighter."
"I don't know about 'good,' but he's great at taking a hit. Usually, he wins by making the other guy give up. He proved that to me once," Yasoke smiles as he recalls the event.
That day, Jhony and Yasoke had clashed with dangerous individuals who controlled the western sector of the junkyard. The chaos began at nightfall. Yasoke managed to take down one of the adversaries, but Jhony ended up cornered by ten men armed with metal pipes. He threw his jacket to the ground and charged into the fray.
Jhony was beaten until dawn. When the sun rose over the horizon, he was unrecognizable; however, he remained on his feet. The gang members, shocked by the boy's Herculean persistence, decided to withdraw as a matter of honor. Yasoke found his friend severely injured and ran to his aid. Seeing him unconscious, he gave him light slaps on the back of his neck.
"YOU KNOW THAT HURTS!!!" Jhony wakes up, irritated. Yasoke looks at his friend's disfigured face and starts laughing.
"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?"
"You really love getting beat up!"
"Of course not, idiot."
Yasoke stopped laughing and hoisted Jhony onto his shoulders, carrying him to the shelter. In that instant, Yasoke understood the true strength of the companion he was carrying.
"Yasoke, I'm going to tell you something: I'm never going down for anyone, even in a group. That's a promise!"
The word "promise" now resonated in Jhony's mind like a bitter reminder. He felt he had failed; he had fallen several times before only three individuals. Even prostrate, bleeding, and with fractured bones, his eyes regained the spark of determination. He clenched his fist and stood up once more.
"I promised... I promised I wouldn't fall."
He stared at the military men with visceral hatred.
"I PROMISED I WOULDN'T FALL!!"
Jhony roared and charged at them.
"Let's end this guy already!"
Two soldiers performed their hand seals: one formed a square, the other a circle. Their energies converged, generating a devastating force that shattered the window glass and made the furniture levitate. Jhony advanced with his head held high, entering the shockwave.
The impact caused multiple lesions to his body. His hairstyle came undone under the pressure of the energy, revealing his long, straight red hair. However, those injuries were insignificant compared to the contempt he felt for himself for nearly breaking his word.
With a masterful flying kick, he struck one of the soldiers, projecting him a great distance. Jhony ducked a punch and connected a spinning kick to another soldier's head, who spun in the air before impacting the floor. The last opponent charged desperately, throwing frantic strikes.
"I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU WHAT A REAL PUNCH IS!!!"
After dodging an onslaught, Jhony buried his fist into the soldier's face, fracturing his nose and skull, hurlng him violently away.