CHAPTER: THE KING OF THE STREET
The sky had turned gold as Alex walked home, the wind gentle on his face, his schoolbag swaying with every step. Life felt calm again.
But that peace didn't last long.
As he passed by the local market, he noticed a large crowd forming—not shoppers. Not workers.
Gangsters.
Men with rough faces, thick chains, baseball bats, and iron pipes stood in a circle. In the middle, bruised and kneeling… Ben, Liloyd, and their gang.
Alex stopped, watching from a distance.
One man sat on a wooden chair like it was a throne. Calm, smoking a cigarette, face marked with scars. Around him, others stood like shadows—silent, dangerous. He wasn't just any thug.
He was the leader.
Alex's eyes narrowed. The beaten faces of his former bullies caught something in him—empathy, maybe. Even if they had once hated him, they didn't deserve this.
He stepped forward, walking right through the crowd without hesitation.
When he reached the center, all eyes turned to him. Even the man on the chair raised a brow.
"Hey, Mister," Alex said firmly. "What are you doing to my… friends?"
The man exhaled smoke slowly, glaring with cold eyes. "Who the hell are you? You call these punks your friends?"
"I said, what are you doing to them?"
"I'm teaching them a lesson," the man growled. "A reminder of who they really are. I don't like liars, and I don't like disrespect."
"Looks more like bullying to me."
The man stood up now, towering over Alex.
"You got a problem with that? You really wanna get involved? Take care of your own damn business, kid."
Alex looked him dead in the eye. "I can't let this slide. If I walk away now, then I'm no better than you."
The gang members laughed. The leader's smile faded.
"So how do you wanna settle this?" the man asked.
Alex shrugged. "You tell me."
The man smirked. "Maybe… with a fight. It's been a boring day anyway."
He raised a hand.
"All of you. Get him."
Bats clanged. Pipes scraped the ground. The gang circled Alex like wolves.
"ATTACK!"
They came all at once. But Alex didn't flinch.
He ducked the first swing.
Grabbed a wrist—BAM! Elbow to the jaw.
Kicked out a leg—CRACK! The thug dropped.
He launched forward, sprinting up a stacked crate—JUMP!
His knee slammed into the next man's chest mid-air. BOOM.
One swung a pipe—Alex twisted, kicked the attacker's knee, then spun and slammed a boot across his jaw.
Three left. One charged.
Alex rolled, caught the man's ribs with a hook, then flipped him over and hammered down with an overhead punch.
The next tried to grab him—Alex sidestepped, grabbed his leg, yanked hard—WHAM! Right hook to the temple.
One final attacker.
Alex dashed low, ducking under a wild swing, delivering a clean uppercut to the jaw. He spun, elbowing the man's face, then swept his legs.
Silence.
Every single man was on the ground, groaning, beaten.
Then came the slow clap.
The leader stepped forward, smirking. "Impressive… you beat all of them. I'm guessing you think you can beat me too?"
"Maybe," Alex said.
The leader grabbed a steel bat. His eyes glowed with a twisted hunger.
He charged and swung hard—WHOOSH!
Alex dodged.
Another swing—CLANG! Missed again.
Alex rolled under and jabbed the man's ribs. The leader roared and swung wildly, not even aiming anymore. Just rage.
Alex grabbed the bat, twisted it out of the man's hands, and flung it across the street.
Then—CRACK! A straight punch to the face.
The leader's body staggered… and dropped. Out cold.
Ben and Liloyd's jaws dropped.
"What the hell?!" Liloyd gasped. "You… knocked him out?"
Alex looked at them. "Yeah. So what?"
Ben whispered, "You don't get it. He's the King of this street. He controls half the gangs in this district. He can call an army if he wants. You just picked a fight with the devil."
Alex adjusted his backpack. "You should be grateful. I saved your asses."
He glanced at the sky.
"It's already 10 PM. I'm late because of this."
And with that, Alex turned and walked away.
He didn't know the enemy he'd just made.
He didn't know what war was coming.
He didn't know who was watching from the shadows.
He just knew he was tired.
That night, he arrived home and fell into bed, the moonlight on his face.
The city slept.
But in the streets, something had awakened.